Morgan Kate

Just minutes after finding out we were pregnant with Morgan Kate I began to worry. Seriously. I took a test, saw the results, screamed and cried with Travis and then began to worry. Part of the worry was my fault. Or rather my knowledge.

Prior to getting pregnant with Morgan Kate I read numerous books. Books about getting pregnant. Books about being pregnant. Books about fertility. Books about infertility. I read so many books. I also became quite consumed with the Internet - which I have come to learn is not the place to go for everything. Having all of this knowledge was good and bad. It was good for many, many reasons, but it was bad because I knew too much. I knew all that could go wrong. I knew all that could happen. I knew about infertility. I knew about IUI and IVF. I knew about ovulation predictor kits. I knew about fertile times of the month. I knew about ectopic pregnancies and molar pregnancies. I knew about miscarriage and stillbirth. (You would have thought that with all this knowledge I would have known something about premature babies, but sadly enough, I didn't.) I knew about childbirth, vaginal births and cesareans.

I knew a lot and it caused me to worry. With every little ache and pain I worried. Before and after every single doctor's appointment I worried. I was consumed with this worry. If I had gone to an appointment while pregnant with Morgan Kate and learned that I had miscarried or learned that something had happened to her I think I would have even been prepared. I mean I don't know that you can ever really prepare for those types of things, but I would have almost expected it. That's just how much I worried. I had always thought that getting pregnant and being pregnant would be this glorious, happy time. And it was to a certain degree. I certainly loved being pregnant and I loved my belly and I loved anxiously awaiting to see my child's face for the first time. But I was so worried.

Just this past Christmas Eve we found out we were expecting #2. We were thrilled, elated, on top of the world. I was also a little nervous, but it was at the thought of having two children under the age of two. I wasn't nervous or worried about being pregnant. I told myself that this time would be different in all aspects. I wasn't going to worry. I wasn't going to be nervous and fret about every little thing. I was going to be positive. I was going to enjoy this. And by golly, I was going to do everything in my power to make it 40+ weeks. I was giddy with excitement and while sharing this announcement with all of you, I was dying to share our even bigger announcement. But I never got the chance.

Just several days after finding out we were pregnant my doctor wanted to see me. With everything that had happened with Morgan Kate he just wanted to bring me in and check things out. At that appointment it was confirmed that were indeed pregnant, but that it was very early. My doctor told me to return in three weeks at which time I should have been close to eight weeks along. For the next three weeks we just beamed. We were on cloud nine. We were busy planning out the next nine months. Planning our summer while I would be big and pregnant. Planning the arrival of our number two. Planning the fall and holidays with two children. I was also busy staying positive. I was determined not to worry.

Three weeks later we returned for our next visit. The night before felt like Christmas to me. I couldn't sleep and I was so anxious for the next morning. Travis and I arrived as early as we could and waited patiently for our ultrasound. The minute the ultrasound started I knew something was wrong. The baby on the screen looked a lot smaller than an eight week baby. The tech measured the baby and yes, indeed, the baby was measuring small. At this time there was a heartbeat, but it was fluctuating. One minute it was 85 and several minutes later it was 175. My heart stopped. My eyes filled with tears. I had this horrible lump in my throat. And I was angry. My doctor, who I love dearly, tried to remain positive. He told us not to give up hope and to come back in two weeks. But he was also very honest, which I truly appreciate and need. While he wanted us to remain positive, he also wanted us to know that I could in fact have a miscarriage or that something could be wrong chromosomally.

We left that day in a much different state than we came in. I was angry. I was sad. I was worried. I was mad. I was hurt. I was disappointed. I felt stupid. Stupid for trying to be positive, stupid for not worrying and stupid for thinking that everything would be okay and great this time. I left not knowing whether to remain hopeful or give up all hope. I was a mess. This wasn't something I was prepared for. I hadn't expected this. I had been trying to be positive and enjoy it.

Just ten days later I returned to the doctor because of intense cramping. At that appointment we found out that there was no heartbeat. Our baby had stopped growing. I tried to be strong. I tried to fight back tears. But it was impossible. I was crushed.

I could have stayed in my bed for days. I could have cried and cried for a very long time. I still do some days. But thankfully God, nor life, allowed me to do that. Just two days later, on Wednesday, Morgan Kate had her reaction to penicillin. I had to get up and I had to be a mommy to the baby I did have. And on Thursday we had our March of Dimes breakfast. I had to speak. I could have called and canceled, but I didn't. I got up and I did what I had promised to do. I wanted to do it. I had to get up and keep going.

It's been over three weeks now and each day gets easier and easier. I have really, really good days and then I have days where I am still angry and I am still sad. I still don't understand it all and I still don't know why these types of things happen, but they do and it stinks. Just today I went for a follow-up appointment and everything was fine. I was recovering and healing just fine.

And I'm trying to stay positive. One day, not any time soon, it will be our time.