I have been having some irregular bleeding for the last two months (shocker, I know, coming from someone who went through years of infertility), so my OB/Gyn sent me for an ultrasound. She sent me to the same place that confirmed my first miscarriage, back in 2008. I have walked by that office in the past couple of years going to another office a few times, and each time my stomach flipped. So I knew I would have a reaction, I just wasn't sure what to expect.
The circumstances were so similar - fill my bladder so that it feels like it will burst any second, do a trans-abdominal and then a trans-vaginal ultrasound. I was lying there on the table while I heard the "click clicking" of the ultrasound machine and felt the familiar pressure on my belly, and the tears started coming. Luckily the ultrasound tech was very professional, kept his eyes on the screen, and didn't pay attention to me. How could I have explained those tears to him? There was something about lying on that table, seeing the screen and hearing the clicking, feeling the probe, smelling the office, etc that brought me back to not just that fateful day in April of 2008, but to all of the terrifying ultrasounds I endured in those years before Jackson entered my world and lit it up with joy. I kept taking deep breaths, talking to myself in my head, reminding myself that my two sweet babies were waiting for me back home....but the pain just swept over me. The grief, loss, and trauma of those miscarriages has, for the most part, faded into the background of my life. While none of it could ever be forgotten, I can go most days without thinking deeply about it all. Every day, when I see the faces of my children, I think about what we endured for them, and I celebrate. But that's usually as far as it goes. I don't usually cry, I don't feel the need to dwell on the past, and I choose to relish in my blessings. But, today, lying on that table, it was as if I was right back in the middle of those "dark days." Every emotion I was experiencing made no sense - it was almost like I couldn't even believe my two children were back at home taking their naps. No amount of self-talk was adding any logic to this wholly visceral experience for me. It was quite astounding, to tell you the truth. The pain of the past seemed to just overwhelm me.
I suppose that the timing has something to do with it, as we just passed the holidays. Every Christmas, I think about (and we often mention it at least once in our home) our Christmas-that-was-not-to-be. In 2009, I found out that our second baby had passed just 6 days before Christmas. And 4 days before Christmas, I underwent surgery to remove her from my body. So, every Christmas, that pain is just slightly closer to the surface for me. Again, I don't dwell, and I mostly use it to remember her, remember where we came from, and remember to enjoy every second of where we are. But it is there, as well it should be. Those babies were MY babies. They deserve to be remembered as such.
Everything I experienced is textbook for a trauma-related reaction. Those of us who have suffered through infertility and/or loss KNOW that it is a traumatic experience, or series of experiences. Today was just a reminder. And the memories came flooding back. I'm glad they did, though. I need to remember where I have been, to truly appreciate where I am. And where I am is completely and totally my dream come true.
