I’m a mom of three adorable babies, ages 3, 2, and 1 but this story isn’t about them. It’s about my three babies that I never got to hold in my arms.
When my husband and I decided we wanted to try for our first we thought it would be easy, never did I think in 2015 that I would be writing this story 6 years later. I got pregnant with my first in July of 2015 and it was normal, at first. I didn’t have any morning sickness and wondered what everyone always complained about. We went in for my 8 week sonogram, heard the baby’s heartbeat, everything looked great. About 2 weeks later, everything was not great. I started spotting and called my doctor, she assured me it was ok and probably nothing and to call back if it got heavier. Pretty quickly it got heavy and cramping, oh the cramping! I knew this wasn’t normal and something was wrong. Unfortunately it was Labor Day weekend and my doctor couldn’t see me until Tuesday, I guess I could have gone to the hospital to find out sooner but hey first time pregnant I thought my doctor knew best!
My husband and I went to the doctor that Tuesday and had a sonogram. They detected no heartbeat, sack, or fetus. Unfortunately I had lost the baby. I was able to pass everything naturally, incredibly painful but I was able to be at home with my husband and dogs. For weeks after my diagnosis I had to get blood drawn weekly to check my hormone levels. It was like my weekly reminder of what happened. It was awful and I cried every time.
In December, after getting the all clear to try again, I got pregnant again. At 6 weeks I found myself in the same position as I did in September. I was cramping and bleeding, heavily. I knew that I had lost the baby. I didn’t even bother calling my doctor this time around. I hadn’t even called them yet to schedule my 8 week appointment, I was on my own and that’s how I wanted it.
February 2017 came and I got pregnant for a third time, this time was different, it ended in the birth of my oldest, Audrey. February 2018 pregnant again with my second, Madison. April 2019, pregnant with my third, Lincoln. All successful pregnancies ending with healthy babies.
Fall 2020 I was ready for a 4th, my husband…not so much. Thanksgiving 2020 I ended up with a very unexpected surprise in the form of a positive pregnancy test. I decide this time around I wanted to switch OB practices and saw a different doctor. At my 8 week appointment they noted some bleeding around the placenta. This doctor didn’t seem super concerned and said it could result in a miscarriage or it could resolve itself. I wasn’t thrilled by this doctors reaction so I called my OB from my previous pregnancies. They scheduled me for a sonogram the next week. They noticed no bleeding or any signs of it and explained that sometimes when the placenta attaches it leaves a bruise and this is what they could have seen at the other practice. So I decided to stick my original practice for the duration of my pregnancy.
During this pregnancy I was sick as ever, had weird aversions and cravings. Some days they were identical to the girls the next they were like Lincoln, my son. I had no idea anything bad was coming. We carried on like it was a healthy pregnancy and told our families at about 10/11 weeks. At my “12 week” (I was 13 weeks 2 days) routine check up my OB could not find the heartbeat with the handheld Doppler. I instantly knew something was wrong but prayed for the best.
Due to covid my husband couldn’t be with me and was doing snow removal anyways, I texted him what was going on but he didn’t reply. My OB wanted to do a sonogram to see what was going on, hoping that just my placenta was in the way and that’s why she couldn’t get the heartbeat, I knew in my heart this wasn’t the case. I sat and waited for what felt like forever for the ultrasound tech. Finally she took me to the ultrasound room and I laid on the table. She quickly found the fetus but detected no fetal movement and no heartbeat. She measured the baby and it was only measuring 12 weeks, I was 13+ weeks at this point. I was devastated. I immediately burst into tears and puked in the trash can. I called my husband over and over until he finally answered and told him what was going on. I then had to wait to talk to my doctor again! She suggested a D&C since I had not passed the fetus in over a week and was so far along she was worried about how painful it would be to let my body do it. I agreed to the D&C and left the office.
The following day, I got a call from my doctors office to schedule the procedure for Friday, I had to wait 2 more days! Part of me just wanted it out and to start healing and move on another part of me hoped for a miracle and that their tests were wrong and somehow by Friday I’d feel a kick or something and we’d detect a heartbeat.
No miracle occurred and Friday morning and I went in for my D&C, alone (which absolutely sucked!) Do you know how many times they make you say what procedure you are having when you’re having an operation? Too freaking many! Days after my D&C I continued to have period like cramps which were a constant reminder of what happened.
I’ll never be healed from losing my precious babies but it makes me appreciate the three I have here on earth even more. Each day is just another day I am closer to holding them again.
Author: Emily Martins is mom to 3 beautiful children and Market Director for Cool Moms of Howard County and Laurel.
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