May: The month I miscarried

Posted by Sara Peterson on

I woke up today with the all-too-familiar anxiety jitters, a strong reminder that the month of May will never be the same for me again.
 
May has always been an exciting month—it’s my birthday month (and I’m someone who loves celebrating my birthday)! It’s also my mom’s birthday and my cousin’s birthday. May always meant the school year was coming to an end. I graduated college in May. My husband Zak and I usually take a vacation in May (for my birthday, lol). And we have our annual pool party in May. Plus, I live in San Diego, so the weather is generally gorgeous this month and the wildflowers start blooming intense yellow and orange along the freeways.
 
May will now be an emotional month for me. After three years, six IUI, one mini-IVF egg retrieval (no viable embryos), and SO MANY tests, ultrasounds, and vitamins, I finally had those two pink lines show up on a 99-cent store pregnancy test. In May 2017, I was pregnant for the very first time. And by the end of the month, I wasn’t. I spent 30 days with my jelly bean.
 
It was unreal at first. “I’m pregnant?!” And then it was unbelievable happy. And then debilitating morning sickness came on (ok, it was actually anxiety I realized later, more on that in a separate post). And then it was all over. My biggest fear being pregnant was showing up to the 8-week ultrasound and there being no baby or no heartbeat. That fear became reality on May 30, was confirmed on May 31, and my tiny baby was sucked out of me that same day. Poor JB measured about six weeks and should have had a heartbeat, but he was silent.
 
This being the first anniversary of my month with JB, I want to relive it. Yay for Facebook’s “On this day” reminders. I want to remember how happy I was and acknowledge his life, not in a sad way, but in a loving “you existed” way.


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