Meet Beth and her family. I met Beth at work and instantly fell in love with her adopted daughter, Olivia. Her story is one of hope and heartbreak, with the real struggle of trying to heal after everything is over. Read Beth's story below:
Twelve years ago I found out that I was infertile. After five years of struggling to cope with infertility, we decided to adopt. We waited for three years for our daughter, Olivia, to come into our life. She is almost 4 years old. After adopting Olivia, we agreed that we were content with one child.
In January of 2015 my husband was laid off from work and in effort to save money we both stopped using some of our medications. I've been on birth control, except when we were trying to conceive, for years for hormonal reasons. I stopped taking them without any worries. In April my husband went back to work and in May I refilled my prescriptions. But, before I could start a new pack I decided it was the responsible thing to do to test first.
Over the years I have peed on more sticks than I can count. I never expected to get a positive that day. But there it was, two lines. Two more tests confirmed it. My doctor and I giggled through my first OB appointment. Neither of us thought I would ever be pregnant. An ultrasound showed a baby at six weeks gestation. We saw the heartbeat. A real, alive baby in my womb. You have no idea how many times I had looked up at an ultrasound screen praying to see something in there. It was a miracle.
As the weeks progressed I had to remind myself several times a day that it was really true. I gave up caffeine and did everything a pregnant woman is supposed to do. I had an appointment to hear the heartbeat but it was pushed back due to my doctor going on vacation.
At 12 weeks I started bleeding. I waited through the weekend hoping that it would stop, but only got heavier. My mother took me into the ER on Monday morning. After running some tests it was finally time for an ultrasound. As soon as the tech got started it was obvious that there was something wrong. In fact, there was no baby at all. I was shocked and panicked.
I understood that I went into the ER with the possibility that I was loosing my baby, but I expected to see a baby, alive or not, on that screen just as I did 6 weeks earlier. I asked the tech if she saw anything and she shook her head. I came unglued right there on the table. An internal ultrasound did show some remains. Back in the exam room the doctor explained to me that it looked like the baby had died between 7-8 weeks gestation and that my body had begun to "break down the fetus". They didnt know why my body had delayed miscarriage so long but she wanted me to go home and miscarry naturally.
It seemed like an impossible and heartbreaking task to me. Two weeks of bleeding, contractions, and cramping I finally delivered a ruptured sack. Aside from some unidentifiable tissue, that was all that was left. It took another 4 weeks for my hcg levels to go down. A month after that I experienced the worst period of my life. It was even more painful than the miscarriage.
The emotional toll has been far beyond anything that I have ever experienced. I lay awake at night crying out to God for mercy and compassion, knowing that He cannot give me back what I have lost. Before the pregnancy I knew who I was. I was the infertile adoptive mom. Now I am broken. I have to some how learn to live with this pain. I do have hope that someday I might be okay.
I delivered what remained of my precious Star on July 26, 2015. I was due on January 23, 2016.
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