Heartbreak Knows No Boundaries

I was late.

My husband and I both knew deep down I was pregnant. We just had our third in April of 2017. We could hear everybody in our heads stating, “This is for sure your last one, right?”, “You really think you needed another one?”, “One of you are going to get fixed hopefully”, and my personal favorite, “You don’t need any more kids.”

Well, let me clear some things up for all of you. Yes, we took precautions, we used protection, birth control, and everything. We still ended up pregnant. We were scared, stressed, but deep down both a little excited even though we already have had three. We didn’t come out and tell anyone besides a few close friends and family members. Because why? Because we knew we would be the talk. We didn’t want to hear the negative comments, the rude remarks, nothing.

This was a pregnancy that was not planned. But it happened, so obviously it was something that was needed in God’s eyes. We will never stop having kids until we are ready and make that decision together. We are the ones who pay for them. We raise them. Yes, you may see me complain about the kids but that doesn’t mean for one second that I don’t still love them and take care of them. We do plan on getting fixed eventually. But is that any of your guys’ business? Or how many kids we have? How close we have them or how far apart the last may be?

None of that matters anymore. I still never came out and announced our pregnancy to a lot of people. But it’s all gone. A lot of days I blame myself for crying a lot and telling my husband that I wasn’t ready. We just had a baby. In reality, deep down, I knew I wasn’t. I was scared. I was stressed. I was already dealing with some postpartum issues. And my kids are in their terrible toddler stages.

We lost the baby on Sunday October 15, 2017. I went in to the hospital because I had very very little blood on Saturday of October 14, 2017. I didn’t think much of it due to its possible to have some bleeding. I never had horrible cramps, but I did cramp a little here and there. I never bled horribly or had blood clots. I had very little to no signs of a miscarriage.

The hospital drew my blood as they prepared me for an ultrasound. They wheeled me down the hall to the ultrasound room. The lady didn’t talk forever. She was quiet. But still, I laid there thinking everything was fine. I got back into the room and awaited my results. I got onto my health records through the hospital constantly refreshing it to see what was there. My HCG came in. I was at 5000 something. But I was 8 weeks along. Which meant that I should have been at 7000 or more. The wait seemed forever. The doctor finally came in and said that they didn’t see a heartbeat. But it didn’t mean I was having a miscarriage. He said that it may have been too early to detect it still.

My husband and I left after being at the emergency room for over 4 hours. After getting that news I knew. It wasn’t too early to detect a heartbeat. They just couldn’t find one because my baby may have never had one for all we know.

The next day we went out. We were out of town for festivals and other special occasions. We left Apple Butter Days to go attend an old friend of mines baby shower. When we left I had to grab a gift for a special girls 1st birthday. While leaving town, I had stopped at the gas station to use the bathroom. That’s when everything went downhill. I used the restroom and it looked like I had just started my period. It was bad. I was freaking out knowing what it was. I couldn’t tell if the baby had came out or not. Before I knew it. The toilet flushed on me. Do you know what it feels like to not know if your baby just went down the toilet like a dead fish? It’s horrible. It’s sad. It’s heartbreaking. I was in the bathroom forever trying to collect myself while my daughter was yelling at me she was ready to leave the bathroom. I finally left the store. Walking fast to the car before I burst into tears. My husband knew instantly something was wrong.

He took over driving and took me to the hospital that I always prefered and loved. They drew my blood once again. My husband had to take the kids to the park because they were getting restless. There I was, sitting in the room by myself. Just wanting to know if the baby was gone or still in there. The test didn’t seem to take as long. I got online to see my results. They dropped to 3000. The doctor came in to tell me my results. He said that with the way my HCG dropped over half in just one day and the fact that the other hospital did not see a heartbeat then I am most definitely having a miscarriage. Which deep down I knew. All I wanted to know was if my baby went down the drains or was still inside me. They never did an ultrasound.

I couldn’t sleep at all. All I could think to myself was it was my fault. I said I wasn’t ready and this happened. And I didn’t know if my baby was still inside my stomach or not. Or if I would even see a baby since they detected no heartbeat. About 4 in the morning I had the urge to go to the bathroom. But something inside me was telling me to grab something to catch anything with because this wouldn’t be a normal bathroom break. I did. Blood clots came out but I didn’t see anything. I tried to lay back down but instantly I needed to get back up and go back into the bathroom because I could literally just feel something slowly coming out. I grabbed my lid again and pushed. The placenta came out. I couldn’t see or tell if there was a baby in there or not.

I obsessed over that placenta. Just wanting to know if the baby was there or not or if I had already passed the baby. They never really tell you what to expect or what to do with things when they do pass. It was a long night. I cried. I was mad at myself. I was sad. I had no idea how to feel. I never talked about my feelings about it towards people. Because everyone knew including myself that I just wasn’t ready yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t blame myself every single day for this happening.

For those of you who were asking about my story. This is what has been going on with all the other things in my life. No, I do not need any nasty comments or hear about anything or anyone talking crap from anyone because I am more than willing to cut people out of our lives easily. I still have the placenta today. My husband and I decided to find the perfect plant to plant it in. The options were to just turn it into the hospital and it go with the other medical waste, or flush it down the toilet and I couldn’t bare to do that after the feeling of not knowing if our baby had gone that route or not.

Yes, I had the miscarriage in an early stage, but it doesn’t hurt any less or any more. We are dealing with things the best we can. But just wanted to share so everyone could stop asking what was going on.





What Is Postpartum Depression For Me?

Postpartum depression is a very real and very disturbing and scary thing. The thoughts and the images created in your head just never seem to cease. Every simple thing turns into a huge horrible task. You legit can not concentrate anything. All you do anymore is stare off into space. I was never the type that could harm my kids. They are what keeps me going.

Being alone in a state of mind that you can’t escape from is really hard. Most mothers won’t admit to the things they think on a daily basis. I’m not even sure myself if I want to admit that I have had postpartum on more then one occasion. For some of us, it never goes away. Mine never has and I don’t know if it ever will.

Being a mom with postpartum depression is the most challenging thing I’ve ever done in life. Especially a stay at home mom with literally hardly no help at all. My husband works 40+ hours a week.

Lately I feel myself going deeper and deeper. I can literally feel anger rising up through my body. I’m crying uncontrollably at every little thing. I get annoyed. I get mad. I cry. I scream. I lock myself in another room just to breathe. The kids, they don’t understand it. But the constant nagging and wanting something constantly is really killing me. Their cries just make me more angry. I wish they could understand that I just need to be alone.

How many times have I pictured just packing and leaving? More then I can count. But I can’t just leave them. The things people would say. But I’m losing my mind. I don’t know who I am or what I want in life anymore. You can literally picture yourself hurting them in less than three seconds. You can see a flash of a whole freaking scene. It’s the most horrible thing. Then it makes you feel horrible. Makes you feel like that they are better off with someone else. I’m young. Who could possibly think that I could have those problems?

I cry out for help a lot. But does anyone listen? NO. I feel completely and utterly alone. I have no one to turn to, no one to listen. I scream. I cry for help. If I tell anyone they just laugh it off and say I’m fine. Or that I just need to calm down.

Its not as easy as you think. Some of you need to realize that when a parent is seriously seeking help to not just throw it on the side like its normal. There are SO many signs of ppd. If someone is asking for help. JUST DO IT. Don’t make excuses. Do NOT tell us to calm down. Because it only stirs the pot for some us because people think we are just overreacting and it causes a lot more problems.

I couldn’t tell you the amount of times I have completely lost my shit and threw things. I’ve gotten so mad that the kids destroy my stuff that I have packed up all their toys and threw them next to the garbage. I had hit walls, doors, toys, MYSELF. My house? Oh my freaking gosh. My FUCKING house. It can not stay clean for FIVE MINUTES. I’m so far behind on laundry and dishes. There’s clothes scattered everywhere. Dishes piled beyond enough in the sink, counters, and the stove. I don’t have the energy to clean it up. I don’t have the ambition to want to try. Which only infuriates me even more.

Postpartum depression causes a lot of problems. My marriage seems like it could just slip through the cracks any moment now because he doesn’t understand my rages, my thoughts, my mind, my actions. It scares me that any point he can turn to me and say, “I can’t do this anymore.” I know how he feels. Because I feel it every single day. I can’t do this. I say it more then five times a day. I wish I could tell you every single thought that goes through my head, but I would just rather not. I could write a novel. And we all know, I don’t have time for that.

Listen, be courteous, be kind, HELP. Don’t let someone drown. Because one day, it may become so serious that it will cause to end a life. Be there. Watch the signs. And talk.