How was your summer? I hope it was good for you. It was a beautiful summer for my family with the lovely weather we were getting this season. I have been quiet this past month, but it’s time to end the silence with a difficult and deeply personal post. I found out that I was expecting my third child in mid-August, and my husband and I looked forward to welcoming a spring baby. August made way for September. My eldest son started school, my youngest celebrated his third birthday.
The End of Summer
Summer dwindled down, then my life fell into disarray in the second week of September.
I had my first check up and caught a glimpse of my little baby through my doctor’s handheld ultrasound device. It made me assured, though my doctor said it seemed smaller than average at that gestational age.
On Friday morning, I woke up and realised I was starting to bleed. Worried, I had another checkup done and had my hormone level tested. Come back on Monday for another blood test, the nurse said.
It was a difficult weekend to pass, as the bleeding increased despite my attempts to restrict movement and increase bed rest. On Saturday I developed a cold and spent the whole day sneezing and dealing with a fever and chills. This resolved thankfully within 24 hours.
Sunday Batch-cooking with Husband
Life had to go on. I pulled out some AIP cookbooks and set a menu, choosing the simplest and least intimidating recipes I could find for my husband (the reluctant cook).
“You probably won’t like it, but I can’t stand around much and prepare meals. Could you help me batch cook?”
Husband eyed the recipes with a grim look, and gamely set out with the boys, shopping list in his pocket.
They returned several hours later, tired and hungry (Note: never go to Costco on a Sunday morning. With kids). Thankfully we had leftovers in the refrigerator which made for a quick late lunch.
While our youngest son napped and my eldest son played, my husband set about batch cooking. I got tired of lying down and offered to prep some vegetables while seated on the kitchen counter stool.
We managed to bake some chicken breasts, cook up a large batch of meatballs, roast root vegetables, whip up some tapenade, roast sweet potatoes, churn out a carrot salad, make fruity gummies, and prep some salad greens. Thank you, Mickey, Alaena, and Sarah.
“I hope this allows you to rest and not cook for at least a day,” he said.
The big batch-cooking session gave him a backache and wore me out. But it was done, and we had good, nourishing food to eat. For a while.
Monday
Monday came around and I had my blood test done after sending my eldest son to school. The nurse had a pained, sympathetic expression when I told her I bled all weekend. “You’ll know your result later today or tomorrow.”
Just before dinnertime, my doctor called to let me know that my HCG levels were dropping. I was scheduled for another blood test on Thursday.
I couldn’t hold back my tears during dinner and my husband hurried to get me some tissues. He hugged me in silence while the two little boys ate their dinner with gusto, unaware of my internal struggle and grief.
Tuesday
On Tuesday, after seeing my son off at school, I resolved to head down to the emergency room. I couldn’t bear waiting until Thursday. The hospital was the only place that could perform detailed ultrasound scans and could give me answers to my questions.
I knew I probably had to spend the whole day at the hospital, so I got myself some portable AIP food staples from the supermarket – a box of salad greens, a can of sardines in olive oil, plantain chips, fruits, and herbal tea. The only non-AIP item in the basket: a box of chocolates. I needed some comfort. Don’t judge. Then I got an entertaining book from the bookstore to distract myself with and headed to the hospital’s triage.
More blood tests and several hours of waiting. I assembled my lunch and ate it in the waiting room. Sardines smell better than greasy fast food, seriously. I hope my waiting room neighbours were nonetheless not too offended.
I had just started on my book and was almost finishing my cup of tea after my lunch when my name was called.
Had 3 scans done in 3 different rooms (each room’s machine more sophisticated than the former) before returning to the waiting room, gown on and seated in a wheelchair. I wondered randomly how odd it was that one would feel sicker the moment one donned the hospital gown. Add a wheelchair and one would feel positively frail.
Finally, my name was called and a friendly-looking doctor greeted me. She told me that it seemed like the fetus had stopped developing before 7 weeks of age, even though I was over 9 weeks along. There was no heartbeat to be detected, she said. She was sympathetic and told me she had gone through a miscarriage herself previously.
Inside, I felt grieved. At the same time, relief and a sense of closure. No more uncertainty and waiting for test results.
Thereafter
All the doctors I met told me the same thing: miscarriages are perfectly normal and that one in five pregnant women experience them. Not to worry, these things happen, you may feel sad, and take time to rest.
It felt like a cookie cutter response. I didn’t want a cookie cutter response, I wanted a healthy, live baby.
Mid-Autumn Festival came and though it’s a major Chinese festival, I was in no mood to celebrate. Besides, it was just another day for majority of the population here.
I finally managed to make some AIP mooncakes over the following weekend, though my heart was not in it. I overcooked the dough and had trouble shaping the mooncakes, but my kids loved them all the same. Bless them. I will share the recipe, someday.
Recovery
It’s been slightly over a week since my visit to the emergency room, and I’ve finally stopped bleeding. Follow-up scans showed that I am all clear. I feel utterly depleted, however. Internally I know my hormones are a mess, and that my ‘qi’ is probably deficient. I feel terrified of getting an autoimmune flareup as well.
There are some days when I feel perfectly fine and happy, and some days when I feel empty and aching inside. My husband is mourning in his own way as well. I’m writing and sharing my story, knowing that there are others out there who have suffered the same, in addition to dealing with autoimmune disease(s).
It’s time for me to pull myself together, slowly but surely, and shift into recovery mode. I have been slack with myself food-wise these past few weeks, eating foods that I deemed as successful reintroductions (maybe some not quite successful).
All that will come to an end as I shift back into AIP gear come October.
October
October is Awareness Month.
October 15 is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Come 7pm, light a candle and keep it burning for at least 1 hour, in memory of all the babies.
I’m so so sorry for your tragic loss. The ache is brutally real. It’s so good you are sharing. So many women grieve alone and in silence. There is little to no recognition. It’s incredibly vulnerable to put this out on the Internet and share with us all, and also so very brave. Your baby is in heaven, absolutely. It will be a glorious day to be reunited. Hugs, love and prayers.
Thank you, Jolaine. You are right, too many women (and men too) grieve alone and in silence. It’s really unfortunate.
Dora, I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. I wish I lived close by to make you a some AIP meals! Glad you are able to share this with us…and having a kid myself I realize it’s hard to have a moment to fully grieve when your making sure everyone around you is happy. Sending you lots of love & support!!!❤
Thanks, Rachel. That’s really sweet of you to offer. The AIP community is amazing!
Bless you. Losing a child is terrible, regardless of when. So many women (myself included) know that grief. May God’s peace flood your heart.
I’m so sorry that you have also experienced that grief, Hilde. Much love to you too.
Losing a child is the most painful thing I’ve personally ever gone through (but I imagine most people that go through it probably feel the same!), and even though it is so incredibly common and natural, it’s hard not to feel pangs of unwarranted guilt.
I actually lost my first child last year on October 15th at 20 weeks due to a possible weakened cervix. Although tragic, I did eventually learn that I have Hashimoto’s because of this pregnancy, which has made me feel that even though it was entirely unfair that I lost him in that way, my child still gave me something–he have me knowledge of my condition and therefore he gave me my health.
I’m still adjusting to my thyroid medication, but hopefully soon I will stabilize and be able to try again. I’ve been on AIP for nearly 5 months now, and I have even been able to get my thyroid medication continually reduced.
Today it’s still painful to be without my baby. And it irritates me to have most people around me act like he never existed. Even so, I am still grateful to have him as long as I did. It sounds like you also have plenty to be grateful for, too!
This October 15th my husband and I are definitely treating ourselves to plenty of delicious AIP approved food and sweets to celebrate my child’s tiny life and all my accomplishments this year. Then we are off to Japan to visit his family and maybe by the time we get back I’ll be approved for attempting a second pregnancy. 🙂
Btw, I found your blog only recently and I LOVE everything I have made so far. Thank you for sharing and please keep doing what you are doing! And post your mooncakes recipe sometime, too. 😉
I also have Hashimoto’s and am fighting hard to keep my current baby (15 weeks) safe and healthy. I’m so sorry for your loss. I did want to mention a book I found that you might find helpful as well… Your Healthy Pregnancy with Thyroid Disease by Dana Trentini and Mary Shomon.
I’ll have to look into this book, thanks for the suggestion.
Megan, my heart aches for you! I’m so glad that you’re able to get your thyroid medication dosage reduced over time in conjunction with the AIP. I think people are afraid of bringing up sad memories, and hence don’t mention their existence. Do take care on your trip to Japan, have a good grasp of stress management and nourish your body well in order to prime yourself for pregnancy again. Thanks for visiting and I’ll definitely work on that mooncake recipe in the future.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your story. I know it’s hard to talk about and especially to others. <3
Thanks, Michelle, for your kind words.
Please know you’re still in my thoughts, Dora. It’s never easy opening up like this, but it can be such a therapeutic step. ♥
It’s so nice to know someone who cares like you, Erin. Writing this post has indeed been very therapeutic for me. Painful, but it helped a lot.
Dora, my heart goes out to you. I recently have gone through a different kind of loss and found The Grief Recovery Handbook (James and Friedman?) really helpful. Please check it out.
(PS I love your blog and find it a great source for AIP ideas – thank you for sharing your world)
I’ll definitely check this book out, thanks for suggesting, Elizabeth. So glad that you enjoy my blog. I hope you will see brighter days ahead, sending positive vibes to you!
Dora, I am so sorry you went through this loss. Thinking of you my friend. <3