brutally honest accounts of this process.

Okay, so if I am going to be honest, I better be wholeheartedly and brutally honest.  Here goes.

I went off the pill in October 2007.  That seems like forever ago.  I mean think about all the days that happened between October 2007 and now.  All the times I laughed, all the meals I ate, all the conversations I had, and of course all the sex that was had.

Kurt and I had agreed that we wouldn’t try, we wouldn’t not try.  We’d see what happened.  After all I was 31 and there was no rush.  I just knew I wanted a baby one day and ‘it can’t be that hard right?’  Teens get pregnant all the time and then there’s that show, ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant.’  First who the hell doesn’t know they are pregnant?  And really teens happen to have sex at that magical exact time of the month, the 24 – 48 hour period and get pregnant?  I mean if you pee right away then most of the ‘boys’ are tossed right out.  You’d have to be crazy fertile!  I’m getting off track here.  I’ll come back to the judgement later.

One year later we were pregnant!  Happy and excited the nausea began.  But oh gosh, I was pregnant.  I worked out, ate great, rested and took the best care of myself I ever had.  This baby was going to have the best time developing in me!  At 7 1/2 weeks I began bleeding.  First let me say this is terrifying.  Every part of me was scared.  It’s not like I have never bleed before.  Just this time it meant something bigger, something more intense.  I called my Dr.  She said it may not be a miscarriage.  Although I knew.  Every part of me knew.  I listened to her and still I knew she was full of hope that was bull.  The bleeding then became more intense.  I was hemorrhaging.  It was painful, incredibly painful.  Basically it’s your body going into labor to discard the fetus.  I could have opted to have a DNC but why?  I knew I had passed it, that was just an unnecessary procedure.

I remember one day I was teaching at one of my HS and I had to run to the bathroom 8 times because the bleeding suddenly returned in full force.  I thought I passed it all, but I hadn’t even scratched the surface.  I had to tell the teacher, I was running to the restroom like crazy!  She said, “yeah, that happens, I had a DNC.”  Like it was nothing.  WHAT?  I’ll never forget that day.  It was a nightmare.  I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t properly teach, I was just in pain and going through the motions, all while running back and forth from the school public bathroom.  A LA Unified public restroom, just to give you a better picture.  This turned into more of a nightmare than I expected.

So I bleed for about 10 days.  Heavy and painful.  And there it was, I was no longer pregnant.  Apparently this is incredibly common.  Then why the hell is it so hard to find information that isn’t clinical?  And why don’t we woman talk about this, why don’t we take better care of each other?  There’s this weird thing in our culture.  When someone dies we stop talking about them because it makes us sad, or it might make you sad.  But why don’t we just talk about the amazing life they led and remember the awesome person they were?  I think healing would come easier.  I think we deserve that.  No matter how long the life.  Let’s agree that talking and being open and honest would allow the healing to come easier.  I loved that baby, even if it was only for 7 1/2 weeks.

After all this I was actually pretty okay.  I looked at the positive side of this.  I can get pregnant.  I tend to believe everything happens for a reason.  I have to think that way, it gets me through the moments.  This happened for a reason, and all I could do was trust that God was protecting me from something.

I thought, okay lets get this ball rolling.  Only then I couldn’t get pregnant.  Sex at the right time.  Temperature taking, charting, clomid… Oh clomid!  The drug that made me CRAZY.  If ever there was a time in my life that I wouldn’t want to know me, it was when I took clomid.  Ladies, I hear it works, but your husband will hate you, you will hate you and why the hell would a man want to have sex with a depressed monster?  Well it didn’t work for me.  Kurt gave sperm.  That story is hilarious, and if ever you can get him to retell it you will be in stitches.  Insemination failed.  I couldn’t do another does of crazy town.  So we went back to the basics.  No drugs and just hoped that good old fashioned sex would work.

Sex.  Sex.  Sex.  It changes when you are trying to make a baby.  It’s not that much fun.  Or at least not after years of ‘trying to make a baby’ kind of sex.  The times we knew I wasn’t ovulating were great.  But as soon as the pressure was on, it became work.  Sex should never be work.  Sex should be exciting, adventurous and loving.

Okay, jumping ahead, every New Years Eve Kurt and I write intentions for the upcoming year.  Some have been fulfilled and some not.  The top of the list for years has been to have a healthy baby and pregnancy.  This brings me to Dec 31 2010.  Kurt and I, standing in the kitchen.  He says, top of the list a baby and I burst into tears.  Kurt, being the most amazing man that ever walked the face of the earth in my opinion, held me and let me cry.  Then he let me decide for us, to let go.  To no longer try, to no longer want.  I lifted my head and said “God please just give me acceptance.”  Now this I know will sound all corny and whatnot, but I tell you it’s true.  I felt lighter.  I honestly gave the want back into the universe and accepted that my life with Kurt was brilliant.  I loved, I was loved, blessed and knew I was and could truly be happy with him, just him, forever.  Number one on the list for 2011 was simply Acceptance.

January 3rd I got my period.  And it was all good.  I no longer felt sad that it came.  That in itself was a great feeling.  January 17th I remember we had particularly great sex, likely great because there was no trying, no pressure, just good time lovin.  Too much for you?  Anyway… January 18th I got sicker than I had been in years with a fever of 101 for days.  A week later and still sick I went to the Dr who prescribed a z-pack.  Being so sick, I wasn’t having alcohol or coffee.  A week or so later, I felt like the blood pumping through me wasn’t my blood.  Weird.  Off.  Odd.  Then I said, um… No.  Maybe?  The next morning I woke at 5am and took the last left over pregnancy test I happened to have.   It was positive.  I accept that.

I still fear a miscarriage.  The first (new by the way) Dr apt was strange.  I was 3 days shy of my 8 week visit when I miscarried last time.  Getting to that appointment was a big accomplishment for me.  As soon as I saw the heartbeat tears rolled down my face.  Uncontrollably.  I didn’t cry, it was just tears pouring out of me.  I’m now 12 weeks.  My next apt is tomorrow.  Maybe I will hear my baby’s heartbeat.  In any case, I am cautious.  After a miscarriage you have to be cautious.  But you also have to have hope and believe.

In October 2005 I married my best friend.  In October 2007 I went off the pill.  In October 2008 I was pregnant and lost that pregnancy.  And in October 2011 I will give birth to my first child.

Acceptance, simply put, has opened my heart & my body for a great adventure.


4 thoughts on “brutally honest accounts of this process.

  1. Oh, Natasha, you’re awesome. Glad I found your blog so I can stay up to date on all the fun (and not-fun), because you are hilarious and I love you both. Check out my friend Lyz’s blog ( if you want to read some straight-up funny preggo talk (she just had a baby, oh, 3 weeks ago). And I’m sure you’ve probably read Dooce, but if not, she has some truly fantastic archived posts from her pregnancies and early parenting years. Don’t ask me why I read so much pregnancy/parenting stuff…

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