We had two losses back to back. The first was a chemical pregnancy. It was timed up to my cycle, just a little late, just a little more intense.
Most women never know they’ve even had one. And if I hadn’t had actual confirmation with pregnancy sticks, and later a blood test, I would not have thought a thing of it.
At the time I felt grateful for my body that it released a nonviable pregnancy so early on. At only 4 and a half weeks. We also had just started thinking about a second child so I was excited we conceived right away. It felt positive, despite the loss.
Two weeks after, without even a cycle in between, we conceived again. This time the lines were stronger. And they got darker and darker as days passed. So we tested again and again to be sure. A pile of pregnancy sticks in a bathroom cabinet.
We talked about due dates and baby names. I researched VBACs and booked our first ultrasound. We bought Javi a little tshirt to wear for when I started showing. I found myself revisiting the apps I spent so much time on in my first pregnancy. And I started having little talks with the baby, sending energy and encouragement.
My intuitive toddler would kiss my stomach. “Baby in the belly!” he would exclaim.
On the day of his 2nd birthday party, we surprised our immediate families with our news. It was a rare occasion when we were all together. We wrapped up a pregnancy stick as one of his gifts and when he opened it, little by little confused brows morphed into wide eyes and then big smiles all around us. At 8 weeks pregnant, it was a joyful time.
I did consider the possibility of miscarriage.
But I had found an online tool that predicted the likelihood of loss based on age, weight, height, number of weeks pregnant, plus previous live births and miscarriages. It seemed legitimate and comprehensive, and by this time it calculated the odds were very much in my favor – even at 41, even with the chemical pregnancy.
So I went to the ultrasound at 8 and a half weeks with butterflies, nervous but more excited.
That first appointment spiraled from very happy to very sad when our doctor suddenly became quiet and then shared that she could not find a heartbeat. It’s amazing how time can slow down, nearly freezing, as you sit naked and vulnerable wrapped only in a thin sheet, nodding to words you no longer hear.
Liquid pooled in my eyes.
Since it was a possibility that our dates were off and the pregnancy could still be viable, that the baby we saw on the ultrasound could continue to grow and a heartbeat could follow, we had to wait. In pregnancy purgatory.
On the Tuesday evening of what marked 9 weeks, I began spotting.
By that Friday, at 9 and a half weeks, I had a natural miscarriage at home.
After a total of 3 months and 2 weeks pregnant then not then pregnant then not, I was just me again.
Only in a robe checking every hour for hemorrhage. Flooded with hormones and emotions. Unable yet to reconcile my alternating (and sometimes simultaneous) genuine feelings of gratitude for my life and my family and my beautiful child along with a deep sense of sadness for something that never got its chance.
Originally posted on Instagram on December 2, 2019
NOTE: This post is not sponsored. All thoughts are unbiased and my own. All photos and content are property of Lauren Cosenza Beauty LLC.
Lauren Cosenza consults for top brands, websites, and magazines and serves as a trusted beauty/fashion/mom expert, a brand ambassador, an on-camera personality and spokesperson, a creative director, a published editorial contributor and writer, the creator and owner of DIVAlicious®, the creator and owner of BEAUTYfull®, a product junkie and an insatiable beauty and style seeker — with a former life at Cosmopolitan, Shape and Bustle/BDG brands. She currently runs Señor Lechuga Hot Sauce with her husband and baby boy as the Co-Founder + Head of Brand.