I'll start with the least complicated...
Brian and I have been trying to have another baby. Sadly, I've miscarried twice in the last 9 months. Getting pregnant was not the problem, just the staying pregnant part.
The first time, I found out at my first ultrasound that the baby had stopped growing at 7 weeks. I had a D&C, which is a surgical procedure to remove the tissue from my uterus.
The second time, I just straight out miscarried with the heavy bleeding and heart-gashing misery that all brings when it happens a second time.
My OB had me do a bunch of blood work that came back with the following two points that were out of the norm:
- I don't absorb Folic Acid like most people do. Prenatal vitamins have 850mcg. In order to absorb at least that amount, I take 4mg a day.
- I have a very mild case of Lupus Anticoagulant. This may or may not be causing micro blood clots in the placenta. I am taking baby aspirin for this once a day, which may or may not help.
I'm also pregnant again, about 6 weeks, which is wonderful and a little nerve-wracking. Timing was good and bad, which you'll understand later.
I am happy that conception is not a problem. I'd much rather have it this way than not be able to conceive at all.
The other, more catastrophic issue is that my wonderful Mother-in-law passed away almost a month ago, after 3 months of trips to the hospital for various issues.
This has easily been one of the most difficult things I've ever had to deal with in my entire life.
She was truly the family matriarch and a beautiful, funny, loving, incredible woman. She experienced a difficult life growing up, from having an alcoholic father whom she adored passing at a young age, to a mother who didn't want her and her sister.
She and her sister ended up living with her grandmother, and in her words, "She was a mean ol' bitch!"
She started taking care of her own needs and providing for herself when she was still in school. This extended into her adult years where she prided herself on being self-sufficient. She hated to ask for even the smallest of favors, not wanting to put anyone out.
She divorced from her abusive husband, the father of her sons, not once but twice. He may have been the only man she ever fully loved with her entire heart. It was only the beatings that kept them apart. She refused to let him lay his hands on her ever again.
She married once again for a short time to another man that didn't treat her well, and they think even tried to kill her.
After him, she said never again. Never would she marry or share a house with another man. And she didn't.
When I met her the first time, she was pleasant but a little reserved. You could tell she was checking me out, seeing if I was good enough for her baby boy.
You see, she was no stranger to miscarriage, either. She had lost 5 babies at various stages of pregnancy between the birth of her older son and the birth of her younger son, my husband. The doctors couldn't even tell her why she lost the ones that were farther along.
My husband, Brian, changed all that. The doctors told her she would never carry another baby to term after the repeated miscarriages. Then, after remarrying her abusive husband for the second time, she got pregnant again.
This time, the pregnancy went full term and produced a beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed boy. She said he was her "miracle baby."
Now, thirty-some years later I sat at the table with her and she was going to make damn sure that I was good enough for her son, her miracle baby.
It wasn't until much later, after I moved from New York to Virginia, that she knew I was serious and really did love her son. On our first meeting I told her that was something I would never do.
We talked daily on the phone about the local news, gas prices, little unimportant trivial talk that you might not even remember five minutes after you hung up.
She was a mother to me. She was an ear that listened when I needed and a shoulder to cry on. She was one of my best friends.
I miss her every day, so very much.
