69_Blighted Body
Come, sit with me in sorrow...
When my menstrual phase for February was two weeks late, I shrugged and told myself it probably meant nothing. Since last year's miscarriage, my cycle has been chaotic, and a two-week delay was nothing new.
Two weeks turned into three, and I started to wonder. Yet, I was hesitant to hope. Soon, the extreme exhaustion and emotional instability signaled a great likelihood that a pregnancy test would be positive.
Still, I waited.
When the calendar reminded me of a quickly approaching dentist appointment at the end of the month, I decided it was time for a clear answer, in case they wanted to take an X-ray.
Two pink lines confirmed that the symptoms had been accurate. A gentle joy crept into my soul, but it was accompanied by uncertainty—residue from last year's heartbreak.
The first Wednesday of March found me in the same examination room in which I'd learned of our loss ten months ago. As I waited for the doctor, I jotted that observation in my journal, leaving open the end of the sentence for a hopefully happier ending.
After a short conversation with the doctor, it was time for the moment of truth, and the ultrasound started. Instead of receiving joyful congratulations, I was met with the same awful silence as last time.
“There are two gestational sacs, indicating twins,” my doctor finally explained. “But they are empty.”
Her first concern was to rule out an ectopic pregnancy, of which there were thankfully no signs.
She sent me home with little hope: one of the gestational sacs was measuring too small at seven weeks; the other had not even the slightest evidence of an embryo.
I went home and researched until I came across blighted ovum (anembryonic pregnancy), which is when a fertilized egg (or in my case, eggs) implants in the uterus and forms a gestational sac, but then the development of the embryo stops.
When I understood what was likely happening in my body, I prayed for peace—and for a miracle, that it might just be too early to see an embryo in the larger sac, since my cycle was so inconsistent.
The next morning, my doctor called and urged me to go to the emergency room, as my hCG (pregnancy hormone) levels were extremely high. It could be because of the twin eggs, but there could also be an ectopic pregnancy hiding somewhere.
Amazingly, my in-laws had somewhat spontaneously decided to visit us the afternoon before, and they spent the night, meaning I could confidently leave my little ones in their capable hands during my ER stay. I praised God for His attention to detail as I packed a few items for the hospital.
After a quick check-in, I was soon in the care of a lovely physician assistant, who took the time to listen to the reason I was there and to conduct a thorough examination. The senior physician then came and explained that I likely had blighted ovum, but because of the rising hCG levels, I would need regular checks to continue ruling out an ectopic pregnancy. He encouraged me to give my body the time to go through this process and shared that he had seen everything, including the miracle of an embryo showing up in the gestational sac at nine weeks. I was beyond grateful for such competent care, and I even felt enough hope to pray for my own miracle.
When I returned to the hospital for the follow-up check on Saturday, the doctor on shift tore from me all hope by urging me to schedule a curettage after looking at my still rising hormone levels and ultrasound results, which again showed no signs of an ectopic pregnancy. I sat in shock, wondering how this visit could be the complete opposite of the one I'd had two days before. I mumbled that I would talk to my husband and obstetrician before making a decision. She brusquely said that they didn't have the time to check on me every two days. Weeping over the hopelessness and heartlessness, I left the hospital.
Today marks one week since the start of this saga, and it continues to be a constant roller coaster of emotions. My body still thinks I am pregnant, so I get to experience the exhaustion and nausea, all the while knowing I likely won’t have the reward of a little one at the end of it. We are waiting for the hCG levels to plateau, so my body finally realizes that it can clean out my uterus through a painful miscarriage.
How I hoped when I saw those two pink lines, that I would be writing a different update to you in due time. These words that have poured from me to process the situation are ones that I never imagined I would be writing.
In this sorrow and pain, the prayers of our brothers and sister in Christ carry us through each day. I send you my deepest thanks for including us in your supplications to the Lord.
How I hope that you, who weep with us as we weep, will one day rejoice with us as we rejoice over better news.
Thank you for being my guest. In God’s word you will find rest; Seek Him, be bountifully blessed. 💚
Oh, sweet mama. My heart aches for you so much. I wish so very many things were different for you, but I can do nothing but pray - so I will.
I'm so sorry to hear you are going through this, Rahel. It is heartbreaking that you also had such a negative response of "I don't have time for this," and I so dearly wish you had had a different experience on Saturday. I pray you can keep close to your heart that our Lord always has time for you, even through all the sorrows He asks you to carry. I am praying for you.