Goodbye Baby Tibbetts

Monday, March 16, 2020

I’m so sorry that the blog has been so quiet. It’s definitely been a rough month, but I am finally ready to talk about what happened with our sweet Baby Tibbetts. 

It was all very unexpected. Our embryo transfer was flawless, and I started having pregnancy symptoms about a week later. I didn’t want to get too excited, but I knew in my gut that I was pregnant. I had my blood test, and any hcg level over 50 would have meant a successful pregnancy...mine was 388. I was so excited! Brian and I rejoiced, and told the whole family that Baby #3 was on their way. Maybe I was naive, but I never actually imagined that we would be going through a second miscarriage instead of preparing for a third baby. 

Three days after my blood test, I woke up to my pregnancy apps telling me I was 5 weeks pregnant. It felt so good to know there was a little baby growing inside me, and that I would get to see him or her on an ultrasound in just a couple of weeks. That afternoon, though, I was sitting on my couch and mentioned to my sister that I felt a little crampy, but I pushed it off as gas cramps. After I put Natalie down for her nap, I went to the restroom and realized that I was bleeding. A lot. My heart instantly sank. I texted Brian at work and told him I was going to the ER, and he immediately let his captain know that he needed to leave the station and get to me. After a 5 hour ER visit (which was AWFUL but I’ll spare the horrific details) the doctor told me that my hcg was 1427 which meant doubling was right on target, and I was still pregnant with a little embryo measuring 2mm...right on track for 5 weeks. I was the most shocked and relieved person in that entire ER, guaranteed. I was told to go home and go on bed rest for 48 hours. 

I called my reproductive endocrinologist on the way home, and he said that it was likely a subchorionic hematoma, just like I had with my last two pregnancies. Basically, it’s a blood clot that forms between the uterine wall and the amniotic sac, it’s usually harmless to the baby, but sometimes it can grow too big and cause a miscarriage. He upped my progesterone doses and told me to definitely take it easy.

The next day, I announced my pregnancy on social media. Despite things looking on the bleak side, I wanted to feel excitement and joy. God gave me this precious gift, and I deserved to be happy about it. With my first miscarriage no one even knew I was pregnant until I shared that the baby had died, and that was the worst feeling ever. I was determined to give myself time to celebrate. 

I rested through the weekend, and on Sunday morning, I just didn’t feel right. I had been bleeding and cramping for three days straight, with no sign of it stopping, and I noticed my pregnancy symptoms were starting to vanish. I tried to stay hopeful, but in my heart I knew something was wrong. 

The next day, I went to my RE for a repeat blood test, and they were nice enough to give me an ultrasound for “peace of mind”. The tech tried her hardest, but finally said “Ash, I’m so sorry, there’s no signs of pregnancy at all.” At some point over the weekend, I had lost my precious baby and had no idea. One day I was being told that everything would probably be okay, and just days later I was being told that I wasn’t even pregnant anymore. Blood test results that afternoon confirmed that my hcg level was down to 528. The pregnancy had for sure ended.

At first, I was in shock, and I couldn’t speak or even think, but I looked over and saw Brian sobbing in the chair next to me. It was in that moment that it hit me just how many people were going to be so sad that our baby didn’t make it. I dreaded picking up Baylee from school and having to tell her that she wasn’t going to have another sibling after all. I was absolutely heartbroken. (Just for the record, she took the news very well and was more worried about me. Sometimes the maturity level of my 5-year-old girl in tough situations floors me.)

I spent most of the day crying, but I’ve never been one to dwell on sadness. Healing and processing what had happened has been my goal for the last two weeks, and I can honestly say that I’m mostly okay. There’s a place in my heart that’s a little sad and angry, but God is bigger than any of my plans, and only He knows why and what is coming next. I have so much faith that the truth will reveal itself in time.

So, now I find myself at crossroads. Before my embryo transfer even began, I said that this would be my last one no matter the outcome. If I got pregnant, great, but if I didn’t, we would move on and I would be able to say I tried. What I didn’t expect, though, was to get pregnant and fall in love with this baby only to have it taken away from me in such a short time. Nothing in this world can prepare someone for that. With my first miscarriage I knew right away that I wanted to do another transfer as soon as it was physically possible, and that helped me to cope. This time, however, I have no idea what I want to do. The pros and cons are endless, and I’m truly stuck. The best I can do for now is focus on my health and my amazing family, and pray my heart out that God leads me to the right choice. 

 This loss was awful, but now each of my girls has their own little guardian angel sibling in Heaven. I can’t possibly think a more comforting thought. Goodbye sweet baby, Mommy will always love and want you. I pray that you found your brother or sister, and that one day, in Heaven, I will finally be able to see your sweet face. 
Sleep well, my love. 

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