CAVEAT to this post:
This isn't going to be a fun post. It's not going to be silly or funny or even something that most will care to read. It is going to have spiritual things in it. I'm making no apologies or excuses for it. It is raw and it is exactly my thoughts. I write them for a myriad of reasons, least of all to make others feel something. This post is entirely for me. I don't write for sympathy, in fact, I don't want any of that. I write it so that I can look back and remember that I am stronger than I think sometimes. If you don't want to read it, please don't. It is very personal and I'm ok if some people don't want to read about my experience and think about it on a spiritual plane like I have to. I'm ok with that. But, you've been forewarned.
***************
Alan and I have been trying to get pregnant for awhile now. We have even been on fertility medication for it. It makes me crazy. :) Hot flashes, mood swings, irritability irrationality, you name it. It's almost like being pregnant without actually getting the positive pee stick.
At the end of January, we had finished up our round of fertility drugs and had gone back into the doctor's office when, on Day 30, we didn't get a positive test. The PA tested my blood to see where my progesterone levels were and she told us that they were way too low and therefore there was no way that I ovulated.
She told us to go ahead and start the next round of the progesterone and on day 5 of my period, take the fertility drugs. Typically, I would start my period before I was even done with the progesterone. However, this time, the end of the progesterone came and went.
A week later, I decided I needed to call the doctor because I didn't want to wait around for my period to start, and I thought maybe we needed to get another dose of the progesterone in me, since it was low to start with. But, I knew that the first question they would ask, since it ALWAYS is, is "have you taken a pregnancy test?"
Valentine's Day morning, I hopped out of bed, went into the bathroom and took a test, knowing that it would say No, but that I would then be able to clarify to the doctor later that morning that I did, indeed, take a test and it did, indeed, say No.
It was positive.
I finally got a YES!!!
![]()
I ran out, hopped onto the bed and word vomited all over Alan: "You have to be quiet now. I took a pregnancy test this morning and it came back positive. I'm pregnant. Happy Valentine's Day." No breaths, no pauses. All in one rush.
He thought I was joking. I went in and took another one and sure enough, there it was again. That second little line of promise and hope!
I called the doctor and made arrangements to go in the next day for an ultrasound. I should have been 6 weeks at that point.
The next afternoon, the doctor went in and took a look around but unfortunately, nothing was showing up on the ultrasound except a black circle (the amniotic sac). He checked my levels and sure enough, they were estimating me being about 4 1/2 weeks pregnant. He had us schedule another ultrasound for 2 weeks later.
Two weeks went by with us telling a few people and inwardly rejoicing. We were so excited. My niece, Emmie, nicknamed it "Black Chicken Nugget Baby" because the amniotic sac on the ultrasound picture looked like a little black chicken nugget. :) I had been craving pickles (and brownies. Yes, together) and it was weird because I HATE pickles! Emmie thought that was the funniest thing and would take every opportunity to pat my tummy and say "Aunt Heather, your nugget baby is a pickle lover!" and giggle and giggle. And even though the barfing came at about 5 1/2 weeks, I would still sit in the bathroom, arms wrapped around the John, crying and thinking "I am so happy to be pregnant!".
![]()
The next ultrasound showed me at 6 1/2 weeks. However, the doctor sat down after he was done and everyone else skirted out of the room. We knew he wasn't going to have good news.
He said that the amniotic sac was irregularly shaped and that things didn't seem to be exactly how he would like to see them. He said that he was concerned, but not ready to throw in the towel yet. Again he said, "Let's give it 2 weeks".
The next 2 weeks were agony. We prayed, fasted, prayed some more. We went to the temple, I had Alan give me priesthood blessings. We had family and friends fasting and praying for us. And we cried.... A LOT.
By the time the two weeks were up, I had started bleeding 2 different times, but it had stopped and I was ready for answers. I refused to go into that office and have the doctor tell me to wait another 2 weeks. I was so frustrated by the fact that my body didn't make any sense. I even had to miss a good friend's bridal shower because I had suddenly started bleeding (A LOT!) without warning. I was tired of the game my body was playing.
I had made my mind up.... I didn't want to walk in there with the hope in my heart that there was a healthy baby, nor did I want to walk in there with the idea in my head that all was lost. I was Switzerland. I just wanted ANSWERS. That was March 28th.
When the doctor began the ultrasound, he had asked how I was feeling and wanted to know how the previous 2 weeks had been. I told him, in detail what had happened and he said "Well, let's give it a look and see what we find."
He searched for a good long time and took a good look at the fetus. I could see the little thing in there. It wasn't a little black chicken nugget anymore, but a fetus and a yoke sac. My heart ached for that little blob on the screen.
It was then that the doctor said, "Heather, I'm just not seeing any movement or a heartbeat. I'm sorry."
He then finished up and sat in the chair across the room from Alan and I. He said that the baby was measuring 6 1/2 weeks along. By this point, I should have been closer to 10 weeks. The baby had died at 6 1/2 weeks and it had been sitting in there for 3 1/2 weeks now. The doctor told me that there was "debris" in the sac also, which is not typically something you want to hear. It suggests that the body of the fetus, the placenta, or the yolk sac has already begun to break down.
The doctor looked at us for a few minutes and asked us what we thought he was about to say to us. I told him that I thought he was going to tell me that the baby was dead, that we should just have a D and C to get it out of there and move on. He smiled and said, "Yes, that's almost verbatim of what I was going to say, although maybe not quite so harsh." He then said that he thought we needed to move on it extremely quickly because it had been in there long enough he was concerned it would start causing me to get sick because of gangrene.
My heart was more steady than the rest of my body when I replied, "Ok, let's do it tomorrow morning then.".
We left the office and made necessary phone calls. That night, Alan had to go to dance practice and I had to get things ready for surgery the next morning.
I didn't lose it until I was in the shower and began to think about things and realized that it really was over. My baby, the tiny little thing that was no bigger than the eraser of a pencil, had been so loved, so hoped for, not just by Alan and I but also by family and friends. And it was dead. And I cried. And cried. And cried some more.
The next morning, bright and early, we went into the hospital and left that afternoon. The pain I've been experiencing is supposedly akin to labor, only it's been on and off for a week. And you would think that the physical pain is nothing to the emotional pain, right?
Let me be frank.
It's not. We have come to accept the fact that my Black Chicken Nugget baby was never meant to grow and develop into a healthy little baby that would be a part of our family. It didn't take long to accept. We know that the little Nugget was only there so that I could get the surgery that cleaned out my uterus and therefore made the way for the next baby to come in and be healthy and grow right. That is our belief.
And we believe that way because we're looking at it with an eternal perspective. This whole thing has been part of the plan set in motion for me, individually, by a loving Father in Heaven. He knows me and loves me and has created a plan that will help me get back to Him. And losing this beloved little baby, is part of that plan. So, because I believe in God, because I believe that God loves me, because I believe that He knows me so intimately and knows what I can handle, and because I believe that He has created a plan for me, I believe that that baby will be mine again someday. Somehow. All things are made right through Christ and Heavenly Father.
The next night, my nephew Nate was saying prayers and his prayer was simple, "Heavenly Father, please let Aunt Heather's Black Chicken Nugget baby to come back soon".
I believe that. I'm a firm believer that my little Nugget just wasn't ready to come from that Premortal life yet. It still had something to do up there. But, I believe that it will come back soon and come to be a part of our lives.
Until then, we still hope and have faith. And those two things sustain us. We are not sad, but hopeful. The future is as bright as our faith.
This isn't going to be a fun post. It's not going to be silly or funny or even something that most will care to read. It is going to have spiritual things in it. I'm making no apologies or excuses for it. It is raw and it is exactly my thoughts. I write them for a myriad of reasons, least of all to make others feel something. This post is entirely for me. I don't write for sympathy, in fact, I don't want any of that. I write it so that I can look back and remember that I am stronger than I think sometimes. If you don't want to read it, please don't. It is very personal and I'm ok if some people don't want to read about my experience and think about it on a spiritual plane like I have to. I'm ok with that. But, you've been forewarned.
***************
Alan and I have been trying to get pregnant for awhile now. We have even been on fertility medication for it. It makes me crazy. :) Hot flashes, mood swings, irritability irrationality, you name it. It's almost like being pregnant without actually getting the positive pee stick.
At the end of January, we had finished up our round of fertility drugs and had gone back into the doctor's office when, on Day 30, we didn't get a positive test. The PA tested my blood to see where my progesterone levels were and she told us that they were way too low and therefore there was no way that I ovulated.
She told us to go ahead and start the next round of the progesterone and on day 5 of my period, take the fertility drugs. Typically, I would start my period before I was even done with the progesterone. However, this time, the end of the progesterone came and went.
A week later, I decided I needed to call the doctor because I didn't want to wait around for my period to start, and I thought maybe we needed to get another dose of the progesterone in me, since it was low to start with. But, I knew that the first question they would ask, since it ALWAYS is, is "have you taken a pregnancy test?"
Valentine's Day morning, I hopped out of bed, went into the bathroom and took a test, knowing that it would say No, but that I would then be able to clarify to the doctor later that morning that I did, indeed, take a test and it did, indeed, say No.
It was positive.
I finally got a YES!!!
I ran out, hopped onto the bed and word vomited all over Alan: "You have to be quiet now. I took a pregnancy test this morning and it came back positive. I'm pregnant. Happy Valentine's Day." No breaths, no pauses. All in one rush.
He thought I was joking. I went in and took another one and sure enough, there it was again. That second little line of promise and hope!
 |
| Nevermind how gross we look, please! |
I called the doctor and made arrangements to go in the next day for an ultrasound. I should have been 6 weeks at that point.
The next afternoon, the doctor went in and took a look around but unfortunately, nothing was showing up on the ultrasound except a black circle (the amniotic sac). He checked my levels and sure enough, they were estimating me being about 4 1/2 weeks pregnant. He had us schedule another ultrasound for 2 weeks later.
 |
| Our Black Chicken Nugget |
Two weeks went by with us telling a few people and inwardly rejoicing. We were so excited. My niece, Emmie, nicknamed it "Black Chicken Nugget Baby" because the amniotic sac on the ultrasound picture looked like a little black chicken nugget. :) I had been craving pickles (and brownies. Yes, together) and it was weird because I HATE pickles! Emmie thought that was the funniest thing and would take every opportunity to pat my tummy and say "Aunt Heather, your nugget baby is a pickle lover!" and giggle and giggle. And even though the barfing came at about 5 1/2 weeks, I would still sit in the bathroom, arms wrapped around the John, crying and thinking "I am so happy to be pregnant!".
 |
| Baby's First Presents! |
The next ultrasound showed me at 6 1/2 weeks. However, the doctor sat down after he was done and everyone else skirted out of the room. We knew he wasn't going to have good news.
He said that the amniotic sac was irregularly shaped and that things didn't seem to be exactly how he would like to see them. He said that he was concerned, but not ready to throw in the towel yet. Again he said, "Let's give it 2 weeks".
The next 2 weeks were agony. We prayed, fasted, prayed some more. We went to the temple, I had Alan give me priesthood blessings. We had family and friends fasting and praying for us. And we cried.... A LOT.
By the time the two weeks were up, I had started bleeding 2 different times, but it had stopped and I was ready for answers. I refused to go into that office and have the doctor tell me to wait another 2 weeks. I was so frustrated by the fact that my body didn't make any sense. I even had to miss a good friend's bridal shower because I had suddenly started bleeding (A LOT!) without warning. I was tired of the game my body was playing.
I had made my mind up.... I didn't want to walk in there with the hope in my heart that there was a healthy baby, nor did I want to walk in there with the idea in my head that all was lost. I was Switzerland. I just wanted ANSWERS. That was March 28th.
When the doctor began the ultrasound, he had asked how I was feeling and wanted to know how the previous 2 weeks had been. I told him, in detail what had happened and he said "Well, let's give it a look and see what we find."
He searched for a good long time and took a good look at the fetus. I could see the little thing in there. It wasn't a little black chicken nugget anymore, but a fetus and a yoke sac. My heart ached for that little blob on the screen.
It was then that the doctor said, "Heather, I'm just not seeing any movement or a heartbeat. I'm sorry."
He then finished up and sat in the chair across the room from Alan and I. He said that the baby was measuring 6 1/2 weeks along. By this point, I should have been closer to 10 weeks. The baby had died at 6 1/2 weeks and it had been sitting in there for 3 1/2 weeks now. The doctor told me that there was "debris" in the sac also, which is not typically something you want to hear. It suggests that the body of the fetus, the placenta, or the yolk sac has already begun to break down.
The doctor looked at us for a few minutes and asked us what we thought he was about to say to us. I told him that I thought he was going to tell me that the baby was dead, that we should just have a D and C to get it out of there and move on. He smiled and said, "Yes, that's almost verbatim of what I was going to say, although maybe not quite so harsh." He then said that he thought we needed to move on it extremely quickly because it had been in there long enough he was concerned it would start causing me to get sick because of gangrene.
My heart was more steady than the rest of my body when I replied, "Ok, let's do it tomorrow morning then.".
We left the office and made necessary phone calls. That night, Alan had to go to dance practice and I had to get things ready for surgery the next morning.
I didn't lose it until I was in the shower and began to think about things and realized that it really was over. My baby, the tiny little thing that was no bigger than the eraser of a pencil, had been so loved, so hoped for, not just by Alan and I but also by family and friends. And it was dead. And I cried. And cried. And cried some more.
The next morning, bright and early, we went into the hospital and left that afternoon. The pain I've been experiencing is supposedly akin to labor, only it's been on and off for a week. And you would think that the physical pain is nothing to the emotional pain, right?
Let me be frank.
It's not. We have come to accept the fact that my Black Chicken Nugget baby was never meant to grow and develop into a healthy little baby that would be a part of our family. It didn't take long to accept. We know that the little Nugget was only there so that I could get the surgery that cleaned out my uterus and therefore made the way for the next baby to come in and be healthy and grow right. That is our belief.
And we believe that way because we're looking at it with an eternal perspective. This whole thing has been part of the plan set in motion for me, individually, by a loving Father in Heaven. He knows me and loves me and has created a plan that will help me get back to Him. And losing this beloved little baby, is part of that plan. So, because I believe in God, because I believe that God loves me, because I believe that He knows me so intimately and knows what I can handle, and because I believe that He has created a plan for me, I believe that that baby will be mine again someday. Somehow. All things are made right through Christ and Heavenly Father.
The next night, my nephew Nate was saying prayers and his prayer was simple, "Heavenly Father, please let Aunt Heather's Black Chicken Nugget baby to come back soon".
I believe that. I'm a firm believer that my little Nugget just wasn't ready to come from that Premortal life yet. It still had something to do up there. But, I believe that it will come back soon and come to be a part of our lives.
Until then, we still hope and have faith. And those two things sustain us. We are not sad, but hopeful. The future is as bright as our faith.