The Middle - Aly's Story

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Often, we hear stories about pregnancy loss after there’s a happy ending, redemption…a rainbow baby that eases the pain after the storm. There is a definite need for people to hear these stories. They have a place, and they give a sense of hope to families who have lost their unborn babies. These are the types of stories that got me through my first miscarriage. Knowing that this is fairly common (1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage), and that there was light at the end of the tunnel was promising.

The likelihood of this happening twice in a row was less than 5% – we’ve had a healthy pregnancy before…there’s no way this would happen a second time.

But, it did.

It’s hard to share something so unimaginable and traumatic until you have experienced the “happy ending.” I think this is why we tend to hear about miscarriage stories long after the initial loss. But what if you are in what I have been referring to as “The Middle”…the middle of this shit storm with no answers, no direction, and completely overcome with anxiety and fear – a place where you don’t know what the future holds?

I am in “The Middle.” I am in the thick of this storm without a definite answer. To trust the wait and embrace the uncertainty of now is a lot to ask.

We have been referred to the Nevada Center for Reproductive Medicine due to recurrent, late miscarriage.

 At the age of 29, I never thought I’d be heading to reproductive specialists with my husband, trying to figure out why my body can no longer do the “simple” job of carrying a baby to term. But this is where we are. I’m a planner. I craaave control. And I have to accept that whether or not I’m able to expand our family and give our son a sibling is, for the most part, completely out of my hands.

I’ve been pregnant three times, and I have one living child.

For all three pregnancies, I’ve made it through to the “safe zone” that the glorified 12-week mark promises. I’ve endured four hours of of brutal, painful labor only to deliver a 14-week-old, lifeless fetus on my bathroom floor after being sent home from the ER three times. When the medical professionals assured me that things were “fine” and I just needed to “rest and relax.” Just seven months after this, I had to watch the ultrasound tech’s eyes glaze over the screen and hear the four words from my doctor that are every pregnant woman’s worst fear, especially at the much anticipated 20-week anatomy scan:

“There is no heartbeat.”

I feel completely powerless over my own body. And yet, all I can do is throw my hands up -- and hope that there are answers to come. We head to our first appointment at the Nevada Center for Reproductive Medicine this week. Although both miscarriages were completely different and seemingly unrelated, we’ve been referred to these specialists to determine if the underlying cause is the same. We are hoping for answers and possibly some sort of plan that will head us in the right direction.

For right now, I am stuck in “The Middle.” While it seems as if I am surrounded by couples who are able to expand their families, and are happily announcing successful births and pregnancies, a huge part of me is hurting. I’m am mourning the loss of our two babies – one who was supposed to be our rainbow after the first storm.

It’s hard to long for something that I’m not sure I’m going to be able to have. It’s hard to be in this unknown limbo, second-guessing myself on whether or not this is all worth it when I have an amazing, beautiful 2-year-old son with whom I had an effortless pregnancy and delivery.

But I’m not ready to mourn the hopes and dreams I have for my family. I’m not ready to close this chapter. So for now, I will embrace the unknown and hope for the best.

- Aly Nugent

You can follow Aly's journey over on her blog or you can find her on Instagram

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