There was a baby. Now there is not.

My period was late.

I took 3 tests, all negative, but after being 5 days late, I took another. That one said ‘pregnant.” A visit to the doctor’s office confirmed it. We were pregnant after only trying for two months. For about two weeks we got to pretend to be normal. We told a small handful of family. We started to clear out the baby’s room. I took a lot of naps. I was 7 weeks along on Monday.

I was at dance class when I started to have abdominal pain. I felt light-headed, queasy, and wondered if this was the beginning of morning sickness. It felt terrible though- like I was shaking and breaking out in a cold sweat. Some friends at dance helped talk me through deep breathing so I could get steady on my feet. I ended up waiting in my car until Mr. Darcy could come meet me. I didn’t feel safe to drive and the earliest the doctor could see me was 1pm. I was writhing around in pain, the jostling of the car made me feel worse. It was so bad that Mr. Darcy went and got a wheelchair from the doctor’s office so that I didn’t have to hobble from the parking lot.

They couldn’t find any sign of the baby with a trans-vaginal ultrasound so they drew blood then told me the main ultrasound office would see me at 3pm. I had to wait an hour and a half while countless pregnant women passed me by, sitting there in increasing pain and fear, wondering what was going on with my body and who would help me fix it. By the time 3pm rolled around and we were in the ultrasound office, I could barely hold the pen to fill out the paperwork. The pain was so all-encompassing and I feared I might pass out. I finally gave into the agony and moaned out loud which drew looks from happy pregnant people sitting around the waiting room and the staff working behind the desk. Mr. Darcy called out in frustration, “Can someone please help my wife? She is in extreme pain!” I recall trying to get up on the exam table and fainting and later when they couldn’t find anything in the ultrasound, they wheeled me to the bathroom hoping that emptying my bladder would help. I never actually made it inside because as I was sitting there, I told them I was going to faint. My ears were ringing and the room was spinning. I threw up and peed on myself simultaneously while I passed out. My clothes were soiled and I was disoriented and mortified. They gave me scrubs to change into and while we tried to get me dressed, I passed out again.

The pain had pushed my body to this violent reaction. I had no control over it and was petrified.

They finally called down to my original doctor’s office and sent some nurses up to transfer me to the ER. All they could see on the ultrasound was a fibroid mass that is about 12 cm. I’d never had a fibroid before and no one, in all the countless exams I’ve had to endure, has mentioned it to me. It was blocking their ability to see my right fallopian tube which was where our baby had set up residence. Being about the size of a blueberry, it couldn’t make it in the small space and was rupturing. I’m not sure exactly when the rupture occurred but all that agony was because of it and the subsequent internal bleeding that followed the rupture. As they carted me down to the ER, I passed out again. Mr.Darcy said I had my eyes open and was twitching. He thought I was going to die. In all I threw up/peed myself/passed out a total of four times. I remember being in the ER as they waited to open a room to me and making Mr. Darcy turn  me on my side even though the pain was excruciating because I was going to throw up again and I was afraid I was going to choke on it. The nurse seemed unphased as he called out for help. They hooked me up to saline and got me some painkillers finally which my body ran through. The shot me up with Ativan so they could put me through the MRI. Every time they had to transfer me from one bed to another the pain increased. It wasn’t until after 12am that they took me into surgery. At that point I just wanted to not die and to not feel that kind of pain. It had been going on for over 12 hours and I was beyond exhausted. I felt so bad for Mr. Darcy too who had to witness it all. It scared the crap out of him but he never left my side.

They wheeled me out of emergency surgery and to my own room around 4am where Mr. Darcy was nodding off in an uncomfortable chair. I didn’t really sleep- hooked up to a catheter with these pressure bands around my legs to help with blood clots (I had lost two liters of blood and they had to do a transfusion) and the unfamiliar sounds of the hospital with the nurses coming in all the time to check my vitals. I stayed there for most of the day, attempting to pee on my own, eat a little food, take a small walk around the ward. I just really wanted to be home so I could rest. My doctors visited and filled in some of the blanks for me. The doctor who performed my surgery, that I had never met before, said it was one of the worst ectopic pregnancy ruptures he had seen and he didn’t know how I held out so long. My original doctor who missed all the action (she’s 38 weeks pregnant) sat with me while I cried and talked me through what’s next. It doesn’t look hopeful for us to conceive and carry our own child. I’m down one fallopian tube. I have an increased risk of another ectopic. I have a 12 cm fibroid on my uterus that needs removing and that surgery could jeopardize the uterus plus set us back more months for recovery. If we did attempt pregnancy, they’d suggest having the egg fertilized and directly put into the uterus so as to avoid the risk of another ectopic. By the time I recover from this surgery, have the fibroid surgery, recover from that, I’d be nearing my 41st birthday. Can my body take all of this? Even if we were to get pregnant, could my cervix hold? It’d be a very difficult pregnancy.

Right now I’m sore from 3 abdominal incisions and from barely being able to get around on my own (I’m stuck laying on my back a lot of the time). The medicine for the pain doesn’t give me restful sleep. I have no appetite but I’m forced to eat when I take the pills. I’m emotionally all over the place- circling around anger and sadness over and over again. I’ve got left over pregnancy hormones coursing through my body while my uterus sheds- constant reminders of the baby that didn’t make it and the big unknowns of what’s next for us on our journey to become parents.

I wanted to write about this even if I’m unable to be eloquent about it because I feel myself needing to hide away. It’s very hard to process this and it’s going to take a lot of time. We’re doing our best to lean on each other and are very grateful to the outpouring of kindness from everyone. A year ago we were facing my cervical cancer. I never thought something worse could strike us down but it has. It’s all just too much to comprehend honestly.


105 thoughts on “There was a baby. Now there is not.

  1. I know this is an incredibly difficult time, but the pain will pass, and the emotional part of it will get easier… I’m 0:2 in pregnancies (Dec & May) and we have decided to try one more time (I’m also 42), so who knows what will happen… If you really want a child, I think you should do what you guys feel is right… No one can tell you any differently, remember that… It’s been a crazy-ass year for you guys – please take it easy and keep us posted… { HUG }

  2. Oh, Sizzle. I’m crying as I read this. I am sure that all the sorries and hugs that people are sending you can’t magically fix it, but I’m going to send sorries and hugs anyway and continue to send healing thoughts for a quick recovery, thoughts of hope for you and Mr. Darcy and am always an email away if you’d like another shoulder to vent or cry upon. I am so sorry for your loss and what you both have been through. I hate it when the universe does things like this to amazing, beautiful and supremely awesome people. xo xo xo to the moon and back.

  3. Sizzle, I’m at a loss of words. I’m SOOO sorry you had to go through this.
    I honestly sometimes lose patience and the faith in the world when I hear how many shitty things happen to the best of the best people. It makes me so angry!

    I’m sending lots of love and healing thoughts and hugs and kisses. I know they can’t fix the situation but I hope they ease your pain.

  4. Oh sweetie…I’m so sorry. What a terrible experience with an awful ending. I’m so sorry. Give yourself some time, take care of each other, and see what shakes out when your emotions and body heal a little. {{Hugs}}

  5. Lady, I am so so sorry. I am VERY glad though that you are alive and at home recovering. I am also very glad you have Mr. Darcy.

    My heart goes out to you both lovely friend. Again, I wish I could hug and console you. Anything you need, just give a shout. Love you lady.

  6. The last thing you need right now is platitudes, but a lot of women I know were told “you’ll never” and then did. Including my own Mom, and Paul’s Mom who gave birth to twin girls with only 1/4 of one ovary left in her body.

  7. So unfair and I’m so sorry. (My personal anecdote is having a open abdominal laparotomy for a 12 cm fibroid and subsequently still being able to carry two babies.) Hugs to you and Mr. Darcy.

  8. I am so very sorry that you are going through any of this. Please know that you both are in my thoughts.

  9. How scary and terrible. I’m so glad you’re okay but so sorry to hear about all of this. My heart just breaks for you. Keeping you guys in my thoughts.

  10. Oh my gosh. Sizzle. I wish I could be there to give you a hug. Thank you for being brave and writing about this, and sharing your story. I cannot imagine the pain and how scary it would be to have your body revolting like that 😦 And I am so sorry for your loss. Please keep us updated, if you feel comfortable, about your discussions with your doctor about your future! I’m thinking of you and sending you warm vibes 🙂

  11. I am so, so sorry for your loss. I know its heartbreaking for you and Mr. Darcy. Hugs and healing thoughts being sent to you.

  12. The last couple years have been such a roller coaster for the two of you. Highs of getting engaged, getting married, buying your first home. Lows of cancer, feeling like your home is a money pit, horrible neighbors and now this. My heart breaks for you. But, I know you are a beacon of strength, even when you feel like you might break … and I know you and Darcy will continue to navigate your way through life with grace and dignity. Hugs, friend.

  13. Oh my, Sizz. I’m so deeply sorry to read the details of this story. How terrifying, heartbreaking and painful. I wish you the best for your recovery from this surgery. I know somehow you will find the right path to parenthood for the both of you, even if it isn’t the path you thought you would take. But for now, all the hugs as you grieve and process this blow. ❤

  14. You are meant to be a mother. For some the road is too easy, for others long and painful. When your child comes to you, however it does, you will love it fully. It will be fortunate to be so deeply wanted and truly treasured, unlike so many children who arrive in this world unplanned. Your body may fail you, but your heart will guide you to your child. I wish you courage and endurance on your journey. I know you will arrive, but the path you take remains a mystery.

  15. I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been through all this. Warmest, healthiest, heart-felt wishes to you and Chris.

  16. I am so very sorry for your pregnancy loss and the pain you had to endure. My heart breaks for you and Mr. Darcy. I am sending lots of love and strength and peace your way to heal however you need to. This sucks.

  17. I’m sitting on the train home trying to keep from sobbing. Shaunessy, I’m incredibly heartbroken that this happened to you. You’re so brave to be pouring out your heart like this…I think it’s a huge part of being open to the healing process. I myself am a burrower and prefer to hide away…
    I deeply wish and hope that you and Mr. Darcy will get the child you’ve dreamed of along the way. Things have a way of working out, even if we can’t always see it. Sending you my deepest condolences and a huge hug your way.

  18. This is so unfair and I am so very sorry that this is happening right now. I hope that you can allow yourself time to grieve. I know it may be cold comfort, but I do want you to know that I experienced multiple early pregnancy losses before my baby decided to stick around. The emotional pain was surprising and excruciating, and generally unrecognized by many people. I am glad to see that you have a wide network of loving support, and hope that you allow yourself to talk to them and allow them to help bring you back out from inside when the time is right. Much love, Keren

  19. i am just in tears about all of this – for the pain and for you and mr. darcy. i am so sorry and sending you all kinds of healing vibes right now and positive ones too. your internet friends are here for you. xoxo

  20. This is overwhelming to read, and I can’t imagine how overwhelming it has been for you and Mr. Darcy to experience. You all are in my thoughts and prayers. I am so sorry you had to go through this.

  21. Oh Sizz, I just can’t even fathom how’re you’re feeling. I don’t know what to say except that I love you and I’m here for you in any capacity you need. Even if that is just knowing I’m sending you love.

  22. Oh Sizz! I am so sorry and angry that you had to go through this. I’m shaking my head in disbelief, wishing I could give you a huge hug. Instead, I’ll pray for quick healing and peace. Lots of love to you and Mr. Darcy. xoxo

  23. Tearful, angry, and sad for you and Chris. I know that you two will come through this stronger than ever, as you have before, and find your way, but in the mean time I am just so sad and pissed that this is happening to you guys.

  24. This is the shittiest, shittiest thing. I cannot believe how unfair this is. I am so very sorry. It sounds horrific. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  25. I’ve been thinking about you (both) so much lately. I’m angry at the world on your behalf, but know that I’ll also hold onto hope when you find it difficult to do so for yourself. So many prayers and well wishes your way.

  26. I am so so sorry this happened. I know this must have been the scariest thing to have happened to you both in a long time. I will keep you both in my prayers. XO

  27. I’m so, so sorry for the loss of your baby, and your Fallopian tube. This sucks so much. Sending much love to you both as you grieve and go through this. xo

  28. I am so very sorry that this has happened, and that you two have to go through all of this. A scary and traumatizing medical experience as well as losing a baby. It seems so very unfair especially considering last summer. It really just sucks big fat donkey balls. Keeping you in my thoughts and sending internet hugs.

  29. Oh honey. I’m so, so sorry. Can I bring food and a comforting ear? You’re like my sister in getting shat upon this last year. Hugs!!!

  30. I can’t even imagine…. I’m so sorry. Not only for the loss, but the physical/emotional pain, and the resulting complications in the future. You and Mr. Darcy are in my thoughts. Sending love… xoxo

  31. Wow, Sizzle. I’m so sorry for your loss and all of the physical and emotional pain you’re in. For Mr. Darcy as well. Keeping you all in my thoughts and prayers. Sending love and healing thoughts your way…

  32. My goodness, this was so much for both of you to have to go through, how incredibly intense. I am so sorry, so sorry. Be kind to yourself, Sizzle. Sending love.

  33. “Sorry” seems like not enough when it’s the loss of a child, but I don’t have a better word. Huge hug to you and Mr. Darcy. I have no doubt that you two will be parents, somehow, some way, and that will be one incredibly lucky kid.

  34. Oh my god. How awful and scary. So sorry for what you’re going through now. You have a rock in Mr. D. Big internet hugs to you.

  35. The only word that springs to mind is awful. I’m sure the trauma and loss will take time to recover from. Thank goodness you’ve got Darcy by your side. Don’t try to process too fast. Grief follows its own clock and healing comes in stages. For now, just take care of yourself and breathe. Sending love and light your way, Siz!

  36. i am just so angry and upset and sorry for you all at once.

    you and chris don’t deserve any of this but at least you have each other to lean on and support each other. i’m so glad you are okay physically for the most part because i can’t even imagine the kind of pain you suffered through.

    just know that you are both so very loved and will one day be amazing parents, i know it. sending you all of the love and hugs xoxo

  37. Thinking of you. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that pain. I hope some light shines its way into all that you are feeling.

  38. Oh Sizz… the one thing that buoyed me through this bad news was that you were at least well enough now to write it. I’m so sorry you had to go through such a frightening, painful, awful experience. And I’m very sorry for your (you and Mr. Darcy’s) loss. It is fucked up the way your body can seem to turn on you. Best wishes for better days ahead. Hang in there!

  39. Un-fucking-believable. Haven’t you been through enough?! First of all, I’m so relieved you’ve come through this and you’re going to get better. Secondly, I’m deeply, utterly sorry for the loss of your baby. Thirdly, I sincerely hope this isn’t the end of your journey to becoming parents–one of my closest friends is now 20 weeks pregnant after losing a daughter at 18 weeks and after 3 IVF cycles, so I have an inkling of what could be ahead for you two. You are one of the strongest women I know, and I don’t even “know” you in the traditional sense, but I’ve been following your blog for so many years now it’s like you’ve become a friend. My heart breaks for the both of you. I know the strength of your love for each other will get you through the difficult days and decisions to come.

  40. So disappointed to hear you are going through such an awful time. You deserve the best. I wish for you to find some peace again (which you have been asked to find so many times before, I know). I am thinking of you and Mr. Darcy.

  41. I feel like kicking something or someone; this shouldn’t have happened to you, not like this. Know that this is not the end, by any means. In the mean time take all the time you need to recover an be good to yourself. Big hugs.

  42. This sounds horrible. I so glad that you made it through. You are so strong, as is Mr. Darcy. I can’t imagine the sadness and pain that you’re going through. Please know that there are so many people out there thinking of you and sending you positivity and hope. My heart aches for your disappointment. Big hugs! Please treat yourself right and let your body recover fully. What a harrowing experience!

  43. NOOOOOO. I’m so so so sorry. Like beyond sorry. Sigh. Damn lady parts being bitches. Just take time. Breathe. Harvest some eggs so that you have options. And, since when did you do anything the easy way?

    It’s going to be all right. I promise.

    Sending love and hope.

  44. Sis, I am so so sorry and I know you’re hearing this from all sides already and I’m sorry if it sounds repetitive but I mean it. I’m also not going to weigh in on continued trying. That is up to you and no one else. It’s your body. I support you either way.

  45. I have been checking in periodically to see if you had posted anything…I am so sorry to read this news. My thoughts and prayers are with you. All I can say is you are one tough cookie. I hope you are feeling better soon.

  46. Oh. One other thing. Dove mini frozen ice cream bars and donut holes worked for me after my surgery when I didn’t want to eat but had to eat something with the medication. They’re small and always seem like a treat. To me.

  47. I’m so deeply sorry for your loss, Sizzle. Words can’t help, but I am thinking of you (and Mr. Darcy) and sending love. You have so much love in your life. It will balance the uncertainty and darkness. Take extra good care of yourself. Rest. Heal. Wallow when you need to wallow. Thank you, as always, for sharing your stories with us. xoxo

  48. I had to wait to comment – this news simply took my breath away and we’ve never even met. I cannot imagine how it is for you and Mr. Darcy.

    I’ve got nothing new to add, but thinking going back to waves of calm, sea of love, might be a start. I’m sure whatever you decide going forward will be what it is – and that is right, for you and Mr. D.

  49. My heart still hurts for you. I know you’re laying low, resting, and comforting each other. It’s the best thing you can do right now. ❤

  50. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, for your loss, for your pain. I’m thinking of you and Mr. Darcy, though I know that’s not nearly enough.

  51. Oh Siz- my heart is just breaking for the two of you. You’re strong, you’ll make it the other side of this. In the meantime, I’m keeping you in my thoughts.

  52. My love goes out to you! I’m thankful you came through this thus far. And I will keep sending positive energy your way as you face what comes next. Hugs, my friend.

  53. I am so very sorry for all of the pain you are both going through. My heart aches for you. Sending you love and healing thoughts….

  54. {{{{hugs, prayers, and positive thoughts}}} being sent your way from rainy Springfield, South Dakota

  55. OMG…ectopic pregnancy is a no-shit-serious surgical emergency…it doesn’t happen all that often so it doesn’t surprise me that the hospital wasn’t taking your pain seriously. I am SO SORRY that happened….the trauma of the hospital, the extraordinary physical and emotional pain, the loss of the baby….everything. More than anything, I’m glad you are okay, because that’s the sort of medical event that could have had a really poor outcome before modern medicine. Wow, Jonesy. I love you so very much and I am so relieved that you’re safe, even as I grieve your baby and all the fear and uncertainty around a future pregnancy.

    I love you, always. xoxox Bird

  56. You are not alone. A great big ol’ thought bubble bouqet of gerbera daisies and sunflowers headed your way!

  57. I’m so so sorry this happened. It’s completely unfair.

    In 2010, I had an infant and then my mother had a heart attack and pretty much became an invalid. As others can tell you, having a new child without your mother around sucks. I thought the stress couldn’t get much worse and I looked at 2011 to be a better year. Instead I lost my mom and a pregnancy. I’m telling you this because by the end of 2011, I didn’t know how much stress or terribleness one person could handle. But I learned that how you handle these occurrences says something about who you are. That these situations change you, and you’ll always have bits of them within you forever, but sometimes the change can make you stronger or better or different. Also, going through crises like these with a partner? Well, my husband has lived up to his vows and BEYOND as he took care of me through heartache after heartache and physical/mental anguish – and our love is stronger.

    I know the last year has been hellish and ridiculous and awful. But, from what I know of you just from reading your words, I know you’ll have the strength to pull through and move past it and get to where you need to be. And you get to do it with a man who loves you so much (and friends who love you so much) and that will hopefully make it easier.

    For now you have to just take care of you and if that means eating crap or sleeping lots or crying all day or shopping online or whatever, you just do it. I hope you heal as best you can in every way.

    • This is a lovely comment. I’ve had a rough/unlucky couple of years myself, and it’s nice to know that even when it feels like forever, it’s not forever. I hope Sizzle knows that too.

  58. Oh, Sizzle. I have so much love for you reading this blog. I have way too much to say on the subject of cancer and miscarriages and how those things dialogue with each other and with a body and brain that are doing their best but feel like they’re drowning.

    For now, I’ll just say this: Everything you went through a year ago makes you totally undeserving of what you’re going through now, but it also made you strong in ways many mortals can’t even imagine. You will get through this because you have to. You will get through this like a badass (if a hurting, grieving, sad, angry badass) because you are you. I, for one, am glad you are you.

    And if I’d had to look at a 38-weeks-pregnant doctor–even the nicest doctor in the world–while I was being D&C’ed, I think I would have murdered her.

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  60. Long time reader, but I never comment.

    I’m so sorry for your loss and that you’re having to go through this. You have had more than your fair share of $hit over the years. It’s not fair. Positive thoughts and warm wishes headed to you and Mr. Darcy. There are lots of people rooting for you, even if we rarely come out of the woodwork to tell you.

  61. I am so sorry for your loss. I lost two babies before I got one that stuck at age 39. I remember the anger and thinking “they can do organ transplants, but they can’t bring a little baby back to life?” And feeling like a failure. You are not a failure. You are a wonderful woman, and you don’t deserve this pain. You will be a mother someday – it will happen, you and your husband will make it so. I’m sorry this happened to you, no one that wants to be a parent should go through it. Be gentle with yourself. Longtime lurker here, just had to comment today.

  62. Wow. Finally caught up. HOLY SHIT, girl. It is true that there’s always a new worst thing, huh? 😦 Damn. 😦 Seriously, coffee (or tea or like… hard liquor) offer open any time. ❤

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  64. As a woman who has lost two pregnancies I want to send you a big hug and thank you for your honesty. A lot of women try to hide things like this from their family and friends, let alone the rest of the world. I really commend you on being so open about it and your feelings. Losing a child, no matter how young, is the toughest thing in the world and you really don’t know what it’s like unless you experience it. My condolences on your loss and prayers and positive vibes for you to find peace.

  65. I’m just now getting my buns in gear and reading your blog – wowza, Sizzle. Wowza. You are one tough cookie to have weathered all of this. I’m going to wish on many stars that a corner is about to be turned. You deserve bunches of happiness and booze and I’ll be pulling for you. xo

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