Three.

Well it's been two and a half weeks and I am finally feeling well enough to write about this past month's happenings. 

Our third pregnancy has come to an end.

7 weeks 2 days.

We had been trying for a few months before we found out that we were once again pregnant. Our first positive test was SO faint that I almost didn't believe it. I probably took 10 tests over the next week and a half just to be sure that that little pink line was still there. It was, I was pregnant with what we expected to be our miracle baby.

Because of our history with miscarriages, our doctor had put me on a progesterone/hormone supplement with the intent to help the baby stay in the uterus. This medicine is eeeevil. I'm typically pretty stable (hormonally speaking) but the progesterone had me all over the place. It was a serious struggle to keep my head on straight, and I know that I probably drove Mr. DJ crazy. But he was as patient as ever and he recognized that the suffering that I was going through was SO worth it.

Again because of our failed pregnancies, the doctor had me come in for our first ultrasound at 6 weeks instead of the usual 10. The anxiety I felt over this appointment is hard to put into words. On one hand, I wanted to think positively and tell myself that everything was going to be fine and that the baby would be healthy, but at the same time I felt the need to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for the worst. I'm a big believer in the power of positive thinking, but it was so hard. SO hard. 

I got to the doctor's office before DJ (he was coming straight from a job interview in Tempe) and ended up going in for the ultrasound on my own. I let the tech know how nervous I was for this ultrasound and she was so sensitive and understanding. She began, and I was on the lookout for a heartbeat. As soon as she zeroed in on the fetus, my heart dropped. There was an embryonic sac, but no heartbeat. 

No heartbeat.

I was 6 weeks 5 days along, but my baby only measured 4 weeks 6 days. A whole 13 days smaller than what we anticipated.

The tech was incredibly sweet and calmly explained that there was a chance that the baby just wasn't as far along as we had calculated. She also warned me that if not a miscalculation, I would lose the baby.

The plan was to draw blood to test for my hcg levels and then draw again 2 days later (the levels are supposed to double every 48 hours or so). If the levels doubled, then the baby was likely healthy and developing just fine. If not, well, yeah. 

So they drew blood and I had to go home and face the facts. I was terrified. I was heartbroken. I was devastated. I was hopeful. I was so, so worried. We got the results of the first draw the next day and to my surprise the hcg levels were about where they should be for a 5 week old baby. Hope increased a bit. All we needed now was the results of the second blood draw to be double the first. 

My second draw was on a Friday, so we would have to wait until Monday to receive the results. This weekend was an extremely emotional and difficult time. Thankfully, it was General Conference weekend and even though DJ and I both had a hard time keeping our minds focused and away from worrying, we felt great comfort in listening to the Lord's teachings through His disciples.

The game plan was to wait for Monday's results and then schedule the necessary procedures should we get bad news. Well, my body had other plans and I began bleeding Sunday evening. 

Having a miscarriage is horrible, but having to pass the baby naturally is one of the most heartbreaking, terrifying, awful things I have ever experienced. Excruciating pain coupled with grief and devastation had me in bed, bleeding, for an entire week. For a whole 5 days I ceased to function. My poor husband was in the middle of his finals week at ASU and struggled immensely to stay focused on his work (sidenote: his is a superhero and passed both of his exams with higher scores than the class average - woot woot!). It was a rough week for the both of us.

Thankfully there were no complications with the miscarriage and my body recovered quickly. Things have finally settled down a bit and we are healing. The pain and heartbreak we feel is unimaginable, but we know that we have to move forward. We have to. If we don't move forward, I know that I am weak and that I will allow the misery and grief to overwhelm me and drag me down. And while at times I want to wallow in that despair, I know that if I do, I may not make it out. 

So onward and upward. Faith. Hope. Healing. Onward and upward.