64 Days

It was 3 weeks, 2 days when the double pink lines appeared. Not a day passed that I didn't agonize over every twinge, cramp, and wave of nausea. I was a nervous wreck. Google kept me in the know about miscarriage rates, pregnancy symptoms, miscarriage symptoms, HCG, progesterone, anything and everything in between.

3 weeks, 3 days. A blood test confirmed what the two pink lines first said. Another test in two days further confirmed that my HCG was doubling. My progesterone, on the other hand, was dropping. I was prescribed progesterone supplements to help encourage my progesterone to do what is should do on it's own. Ain't nothing fun about progesterone supplements, especially with a $200 price tag. But I willingly paid the price if it could save the little life growing within my own body. Google told me it would help. Google told me it wouldn't help at all.

6 weeks, 1 day. I saw the flicker of life on an ultrasound and it's hard to explain, but I just knew that baby was mine. My hopes and dreams for it's little life took flight and I kept thinking... “This heart could continue to beat for another 90 years without ceasing.” An almost incomprehensible thought. A miracle. Google informed me that the risk of miscarriage after seeing a heartbeat at six weeks decreased to >25%.

6 weeks, 3 days. I call from my doctor informed me had that I had a sub-chorionic hematoma. I was to cease any form of exercise and abide by pelvic rest in an attempt to lower a once again heightened risk of miscarriage. Google left me more confused than ever.

7 weeks, 1 day. I awoke with significantly worsened nausea. I spend my morning co-hosting a baby shower for a friend while trying not to get sick. Toward the end of the shower, it became evident that something other that morning sickness was happening. I made an early exit and rushed home in time to usher in the most violent sickness of my life. I didn't eat for 3 days. Google (for once) reassured me that stomach viruses typically have no negative impact on pregnancies.

7 weeks, 4 days. Feeling better, I managed to choke down more than a saltine and a sip of ginger ale. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The pregnancy symptoms I had been experiencing didn't seem as prominent. I couldn't tell if it was because they had truly diminished or if it was because, for the first time in four days, I didn't think I was going to die. Everything felt pretty good, in comparison. My 9-week ultrasound was a week and lifetime away. I couldn't wait to see (and hear!) that beautiful heartbeat again. But deep down, something wasn't right. Something that couldn't be explained by Google.

8 weeks, 6 days. We walked into the sterile room. I couldn't think. I couldn't breath. I could only feel my heart pounding in my chest. Minutes late, ultrasound confirmed what I somehow had already known for a week- my heart was the only one beating in my body. It was a missed miscarriage. Google says this is when the baby dies in utero, but the mother's body does not independently expel the baby.

The following morning I entered another sterile room and underwent a D&C. Google told me it was a common, low-risk surgery. Rarely were there complications. Google was right.

64 days of pregnancy. I couldn't alter it. I couldn't prevent it. I couldn't predict it. I couldn't avoid it. Google tells me that many women go on to have perfectly healthy pregnancies and babies after miscarriage. I cling tight to that hope.