2014 Thus Far

We rang in the new year with friends, it was supposed to be the best year of our life.  Kyle and I had been dating for almost 9 years and this year we would finally be getting married.  I was so excited.  Planning a huge wedding wasn't really my thing but I was embracing it. 

My best friend, Nancy, had been trying to get pregnant.  Naturally, we talked about it. Everyday.  It was the second week and I didn't even realize that around January 1st, I didn't get my period.  I didn't know what to do.  I was in denial.  I decided the next morning I would test.  It would be negative, I thought.  It wasn't.  I was crushed.  I didn't know what to do.  I would be getting married in 6 months.  How the hell did I even let this happen?  I told Kyle.  He was so excited.  We always talked about having kids.  Then, I told Nancy, she was devastated.  I felt so much guilt.  She should have been pregnant, not me.  How could I go through with this?  I have the wedding, the dress, everyone has their save the dates that I sent out 3 months prior. 

Life did go on, my mother was happy.  Kyle's family was happy.  I got use to the idea. 

We went to an ultra sound at 9 weeks.  We were told that the baby looked to be more about 6 weeks, not 8.  Could I have messed up the dates?  No.

A week later, we miscarried. 

My world came crashing down.  How did this happen?  Did I stress to much?  Was it because I drank at New Years?  We had to untell everyone we told.  Each phone call or text getting harder.  I had to call out of work for a week.  I came back to everyone knowing.  Great. 

Life moved on.  Kyle and I decided we would just see what happened.  Would it really matter now if I was pregnant when we got married?   No.

We got married June 15, 2014.  It was a beautiful day.  Everything went perfectly.  After the wedding we went to Cape Cod for a few days.

A day later from coming home, I noticed I was off.  I had a horrible taste in my mouth and a pain in my ovaries I had never felt before.  I stopped at Target and bought pregnancy tests.  Positive.  At 530 in the afternoon, it was positive.  The night continued and the pain got worse.

I got nervous and called my midwife.  After waiting for three days to do different tests, I ended up in the ER.  My fallopian tube had burst and I needed an emergency surgery.  Luckily, my ovary was able to be saved.

So here I am now.  Two failed pregnancies at the age of 26, which should have been one of the best years of my life.