Back Story, F Word #2

I don’t know why exactly that I can’t hold a pregnancy. I did it successfully once. But I was 38 years old then.

I enjoyed my pregnancy, and felt I did it well. I grew a nice round belly and gained enough wait to be healthy.









I delivered my girl at Cedars Medical Center in LA naturally, although I would have preferred my epidural not to have run out and wished my incessant and jarring shaking body hadn’t made that needle of painlessness slip. (epidural story for another day)

Since the birth of my amazing daughter I’ve had 2 miscarriages. What no one knows is, I believe the same soul tried coming back.

I hate when people ask how long were I pregnant for.  As if that matters. But since this is the F Word month I’ll tell you. The first miscarriage happened at week 11 or so. I was excited to go to my OBGYN’s office and get that cute ultrasound photo of my developing baby, the one where you can actually see the miniature person inside of you. Unfortunately for me, the miniature baby was there but the baby’s heart was still. I gave my body a few weeks hoping it would naturally shed death, but it didn’t, so I went ahead and had a D&C.

It took me three months to recover hormonally/physically from that miscarriage. 3 months later I was miraculously pregnant again. I dreaded having to go to the doctor. I was afraid to see another tiny body without a heartbeat.

The crazy thing is, I knew I was pregnant the morning after my husband and I were intimate. I could feel the other person/soul with me. To test my intuition and theory, I peed on a stick (because you know I keep a box of pregnancy tests hidden under my bathroom sink). And low and behold, 2 pink lines instantly appeared.

Not trusting my own psychic predisposition I looked back at my calendar and noticed my period only lasted two days the month before. Could I be 8 weeks pregnant????

I hoped so, and that hope foolishly made me call my OBGYN. He asked me to come in and take a blood test. I did. I was pregnant, but just barely. My doctor wanted to watch me closely. I didn’t like that. It frightened me. On my way home I called my mom from the car. She was with her boyfriend, he was a retired OBGYN, and they said everything would be all right. I didn’t know if it would be.

I failed before. Would G-d let me fail again? How could that be when I felt the soul with me?

I told this soul to stay, fight, and grow and prayed that it would mature to a healthy child.

But that was not meant to be. At my 8-week appointment I turned my head toward the ultrasound machine hoping to see a racing heartbeat, but it was only my heart beating in my body.  The only evidence of my baby was the embryonic sac.

My body crumbled on the table. I think my hubby came up to hold me. I know my doctor was comforting when he told me that my body was reabsorbing the pregnancy.

How could this be my life? How could this happen again? I wanted it out. I didn’t need time to process; I needed the dead thing that should have been my baby out. I think I had my D&C the next day. I know for sure I booked it ASAP.

I couldn’t understand why did this pregnancy end when I knew so quickly? What was the point?!

Then I had a different thought. I believe a soul was attached to me and both pregnancies were caused by the same soul trying to come in. So I decided to talk to it.

“Hi. I think you keep trying to come in to our lives but its not working. You’re hurting me. Did I hurt you? Abandon you before? I think you must love me. But this thing that you are trying to do is hurting me. I don’t think we are meant to be. I am sorry. Thank you for loving me, but please let me go.”

Then I felt nothing.





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