Shortly after finding out we were expecting our third child, we went in for an early ultrasound to establish care and date the pregnancy. Our second child was still nursing and my cycle hadn’t completely returned yet, so I was just starting back up the fertility charting process and didn’t know the conception date. Having a good idea of how old the baby is would be important for us in watching for early dilation again, and determining whether I would have a procedure to temporarily stitch my cervix closed as I did for our second child’s pregnancy (in both of my previous pregnancies I dilated quite early and the doctors expected pre-term labor).
An Unexpected Conversation
After the ultrasound, we waited in another room for our first OB appointment. A jovial doctor arrived, shook our hands congratulating us, and then began reviewing my pregnancy histories. After more chit chat about possible cervical cerclage plans and jokes about how fast this new baby was probably going to come, the doctor switched gears completely and shared that although he saw a healthy-looking baby inside it’s sac, (along with a normal heartbeat), there was an unusual tissue surrounding the entire sac that made him very concerned about the possibility of a partial-molar pregnancy. He gave a brief explanation of what this could mean, which included the stinger phrases “birth defects,” “pregnancy loss” and “danger to the mother.”
I left the appointment with Nicholas feeling pretty numb and confused.
Wading Through the Information
Nicholas and I had never heard of molar or partial-molar pregnancies before.
A very brief explanation from WebMD: “A partial [molar pregnancy] is when both the placenta and embryo (fertilized egg) are abnormal. In a complete molar pregnancy, there’s an abnormal placenta, but no embryo.” Most health websites like this go on to explain that in almost all molar pregnancies, the embryo has three sets of chromosomes instead of two, and will not survive. Almost all sites I read also warn that if such a pregnancy is not “treated,” that it can become very dangerous for the mother.
The rest of the day after my appointment, I tried to better understand this potential diagnosis.
To my surprise, I found a couple cases online where the child in a partial-molar pregnancy was actually healthy and had the correct amount of chromosomes. Only in one instance, however, did I find that the child survived after birth. Still, this one hopeful possibility was inconsistent with the situation laid out by both this doctor and another specialist we consulted with later on in the week– both stated that the baby in the case of a partial-molar pregnancy would not survive pregnancy, and that they would in fact suggest termination of the pregnancy for the health of the mother. When asking the specialist what else the abnormalities at this point on the scan could indicate besides a partial-molar pregnancy, he responded, “early miscarriage.”
My Reaction
The level of emotional turmoil I’d experience in the few weeks that followed, was at times unbearable. I found myself trying to grapple with the medical terminology that was referring to my child as “a genetic accident,” “neither a boy or a girl,” “it’s not actually a baby,” it is “a tumor that develops and attacks the mom,” etc. I was confused in a sea of contradictory language. For example, hearing that the child “will have severe birth defects” while also hearing from the doctor and reading repeatedly “these pregnancies don’t make it to birth.” Another similar example, doctors and most articles were telling me your pregnancy “will end in loss” but some others saying these cases “almost always ends in pregnancy loss.”
Meanwhile I found myself trying with all my might to not presume that this diagnosis was inevitable. Reminding myself, the doctors did say there is a chance things could turn out differently and that I’ve seen those anecdotal stories when one day an ultrasound showed abnormalities and the next month all looked normal. I began praying, “Lord, increase my hope.”
What Now?
The next step in diagnosis is to wait until there is enough of baby’s DNA in my bloodstream to test for amount of chromosomes. Also as the baby and placenta grow, more definitive signs can be seen on the ultrasound.
It’s been 3 weeks since hearing all this news, and I have about 3 more weeks to wait before I will do blood work and get to see the baby again. As far as I can tell, baby is still here. I feel sick most of the day and have that familiar friend Fatigue who is always around. There have been several terrifying episodes of light spotting, and honestly every time I use the restroom, I hold my breath praying that I won’t see a dead baby.
How to Deal
I am so so SO so sensitive to the pain of mothers who have lost children. This experience has allowed me to understand just some of their heartache in a new way. On some level I struggle with thoughts like “I should be more grateful I still have a baby” or “you have two living children to hold” or “you need to choose joy and be more hopeful” and “don’t share this with people, they’ll be annoyed you always have some pregnancy saga.”
A dear dear friend, who knows the deep deep depths of sorrow of losing children, shared this advice with me:
“It’s okay if you are a mess, angry, not grateful, not happy for other pregnant women, or don’t feel hopeful. You’re going through an extremely tough time and it’s only human to feel all those things and more. And we don’t need to put more pressure on ourselves when we already have an unbearable load to carry…and it’s okay that you have no idea how to handle or pray through this situation. It’s uncharted and very, very rough waters. Those waters are enough to drown most.”
It makes me cry again to type her words, and I go back to this text and other equally wise messages from her often.
A gentle voice within keeps encouraging me to share our baby, this journey, here. Even though many may not relate, perhaps sharing my experience may help one woman who may be in a similar place of excruciating waiting.
Coping and Preparing
Here are some practical things that have helped me so far in the waiting… I am choosing hope while also preparing myself for a possible miscarriage:
- Went to my friend Laura’s website. She is a birth and bereavement doula, and I had remembered she had some amazing resources there.
- Researched how to locate and preserve the baby in case I were to miscarry at home. I gathered materials for a “miscarriage kit” based on the recommendations on Heaven’s Gain website. It gave me some peace to know I’d have what I’d need to receive my child’s body as best I could.
- Bought the kindle version of “Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey Through Miscarriage” by the Fanuccis. I knew I could trust these authors to honor the dignity of my child through their writing, and that the book would be in line with the same moral teachings Nicholas and I ascribe to. I read the first part of the book (which explains the experience of miscarriage), as well as the appendices (that contain practical resources and prayers and rites). It helped me immensely to feel somewhat prepared in the unknown.
- Learned a good basic level about the potential diagnosis to become informed about what choices may be before us. Then I stopped reading and researching as it would become a emotional trigger.
- Reached out for prayer support through trusted family and friends.
- Contacted my past doula to check in on possibility of bereavement doula services
- Reached out to the Sisters of Life for support. They offer listening and pregnancy help via phone at 877-777-1277. I cannot even begin to describe the love and tenderness that are emitted from these women’s hearts. I felt understood and upheld and loved.
- Decided to do little things like buying pregnancy tea or taking little bumpy pics to allow myself to acknowledge the life within me. I know this isn’t easy or preferable for everyone, but I prayed with the sisters (see above) that God would help me not temper my love for this child… that no matter what, I would be confident that I loved this little gift with my all. Though it is extremely hard to be vulnerable to heartbreak, it is important to me.
- Finally- I am taking it one. day. at. a. time. Being gentle with myself, doing self-care like it’s my job… clearing my calendar, lighting candles and washing my face, napping when possible, trying to get outside in the fresh air frequently. One friend helped me by compiling an amazing list to refer to.
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Thanks for being here, really.
Know if you are a similar place, you are in my prayers. Thank you so much for yours. Love, Serra Ann