Our Journey with Chemical Pregnancy.
After we had our second son, Paxton, we weren’t entirely sure if we’d further expand our family. While we had many things to factor into our decision, our choice to try for a third baby felt like the right decision. And were excited for the opportunity.
Nearing our son’s second birthday and after a trip my husband and I attended together, we felt it was the right time to give it a go. And unfortunately, our joy of a positive pregnancy test didn’t last very long.
Here’s our journey with a chemical pregnancy.
The Initial Test
We were fortunate to conceive extremely quickly on what would be our fourth pregnancy. Everytime I have been pregnant in the past, the symptoms seem to hit extremely fast. I turn lethargic and mood-wise, it’s a whole different ball-park in the ornery field. Anything and everything sets me off in a way in which I know is happening, yet I can’t control my emotional reaction. Additionally, my nose is extremely sensitive and I can sniff out things that others don’t even notice, even if I bring them up.
My husband Tyler gave me ‘the look’ a week or so after ovulation and asked if he thought I should take a test. I had been thinking the same thing for a few days, yet I was hesitant. I knew I still had a few days to go before my missed period and I unconsciously questioned if my body was tricking me into thinking I was pregnant and didn’t want to know the real answer so soon.
That Friday, I was going on a happy hour and decided I better take a test to determine whether or not I could actually have a beverage. I was up at 5:15 per normal for my workout in our basement. I grabbed a pregnancy test on my way down and quickly peed on the stick. Because I’m inpatient, I watched the shadow overtake the window of the test and saw one line appear. Disappointed, I went out to the living room to get my workout started glancing at the time - 5:18. I felt a little sad, but not incredibly shocked either.
With our daughter, we were fortunate to get pregnant very quickly, but with our son, it took around six months plus a miscarriage. I knew it wasn’t normal for this to happen so quick and we’d be okay. I continued to keep an eye on the time. Three minutes had gone by, the number of minutes the box instructed me to wait before looking at the test.
I went back into the bathroom and this time, I was shocked to see two lines. One extremely dark, prominent line. And the other, extremely faint, but without a doubt, a line.
The 1st Waiting Game
I finished my workout and took a few too many breaks walking back and forth into the bathroom to make sure my eyes weren’t messing with me. Afterwards, I went upstairs to wake my husband up and let him know. While there was some excitement from the both of us, we remained cautiously optimistic, knowing we still had a few days until my missed period. We agreed that I’d give it a few days and test again Sunday morning.
I’m not sure if I’ve always been this way or if my inability to not talk about what’s going on in my world appeared post-motherhood, but ‘hiding’ that I was pregnant in certain situations is just awkward for me. For instance, at Happy Hour, yes I could have ordered a Diet Coke instead of my signature Spicy Margerita, but why the need if I’m sitting down to converse with someone I trust and care about. So I spilled the beans, cautiously of course noting how early it was.
Later that weekend, my best friend from a few hours away came to town. We’re fortunate to remain extremely close while only having the opportunity to see each other in person a few times a year. She knew we were interested in growing our family, so within twenty minutes of her arrival, she very respectfully asked about our plans for baby #3.
‘Well’ I said outloud looking at her in complete shock. And while I still didn’t fully quite believe it myself, it felt nice and for lack of better words normal, to talk about the future and be met with joy.
Later that day, we met up with another one of my best friends who I shared the news with and on Sunday another three of our friends from grade school packed into our house with our combined 12 kids. And because we’ve literally walked through every stage of life together, the topic came up - ‘who’s thinking of having a third?’.
‘Well’, I stated again as I shared the news and was welcomed with more joy and excitement.
The Second Test
That Sunday morning, before my friends gathered at my house, I took a second test. Again, two lines appeared and the second, still faint. Selfishly, for my own reassurance, I was hoping that line was going to pop out of the window in terms of the shade. But it was still there, it was still pretty early and from my ‘research’, false positives aren’t really that common.
Monday rolled around and I figured it was time to message my doctor. Her nurse and I messaged back and forth about next steps as she asked some questions about my history, number of pregnancies, etc. Then we scheduled my first hCG blood draw at the hospital the next morning at 7:20 am. The rest of the day flew by as I looked forward to the next morning and hopefully, some reassurance through the lab work.
The Big Hospital
We’re fortunate to have a phlethora of options for routine, every day care in Fargo through Essentia. I’ve always had my blood drawn at the 52nd Avenue location near our house in previous pregnancies, but the hospital had appointments before 8 am so we went with that option.
I said goodbye to my family as my husband loaded up the kids for daycare and hopped in my car. While I always listen to some version of ‘Jesus jams’ in my car, for the last week or so, I’d been listening to Lauren Daigle. I selected her name from the top of my Spotify list and started driving. Music has always been an avenue for myself to feel connected with God. Although the last week or so as I’d listened to her songs, I didn’t have too many emotions or big feelings.
As I drove to the hospital listening to ‘Trust in You’ which I’ve heard at least 250 times, I was overcome with emotions. Tears filled my eyes as I choked down some deep breaths thinking to myself, what the heck and also thinking I probably have thousands of hormones surging through my body right now. And most importantly, that it was okay to feel a little emotional not knowing what today’s results could bring.
I pulled into the lot and dried my tears and walked towards the big hospital. Being that we have many clinics, I hadn’t been to the hospital in a while. Flashbacks of my first pregnancy with Harper during Covid, our birth with Paxton and his most recent tubes surgery and many other visits flashed through my mind. While I know it’s just a hospital, I can’t quite explain the feeling as I approached the building.
I got checked in and barely had my butt in the chair before the technician called my name and led me to a room to draw my blood. She was the best - quiet, confident and kind. Before I knew it, I was walking out the door.
Please check your MyChart Account
I headed to work and kept a close eye on my email on my phone. Before I left the hospital, I asked the technician about how long she thought the results would take. I knew they processed the results in the same building so would save some time skipping the courier from other facilities, but I still expected it would be around noon. To my surprise, she said they are usually fairly quick with it and I could have them in 1-2 hours at best, but by the end of the day for sure. Knowing she had to say the last part, I figured mid-morning was a fair timeline to shoot for.
7:53. The email popped into my inbox. Quickly, I navigated to the MyChart app. Before this, I prevented myself from going back to look at previous hCG tests from my previous three pregnancies. I knew they were all different and I tested at different times, so I didn’t want to ruminate. Looking back, that really didn’t matter.
I navigated to my profile, clicked on the new test result and saw the hCG Quantitative Reference Intervals:
Negative: <5 mIU/mL
Indeterminate: 5-25 mIU/mL
Positive: >25 mIU/mL
And to my complete shock, my value landed in the indeterminate range.
I sat there at my desk at work trying to process while tears started to roll down my cheeks. Questions flooded my brain - what, how, why. I grabbed my phone and headed to the bathroom, texted my husband the results and took it to Chat to ask a few questions as I knew I’d hear back from my Doctor’s nurse eventually.
I had low levels with my second pregnancy, which ultimately ended in miscarriage, so I knew the next steps would likely be testing again in 48 hours and hoping the range would increase significantly. What I didn’t quite understand was the word ‘indeterminate’ and how I could have two positive tests at home.
At 9:48, I heard back from the nurse confirming another test in 48 hours as well as the explanation - ‘At this point it is showing a low level of pregnancy hormone in your body. We would expect it to at least double in 48 hours in early pregnancy. If it decreases, we would call it a chemical pregnancy (miscarriage shortly after implantation).’
Back to the bathroom again to cry and call my husband with the news.
The 2nd & Even More Emotional Waiting Game
48-fucking hours I thought to myself.
That’s a lot of time to overthink and for lack of better words, carry on with everyday normal life. And while my husband is the most supportive guy in the world, this is when I felt the most lonely. Not because he didn’t care or he wasn’t worried or scared, but because women just think differently, worry more and the obvious, it’s my body navigating what’s next. And maybe even more so, because I had little control in the situation.
I took some time to gather myself in the pumping room (yes, the nursing room that I’d hopefully use in the future), and headed back to my desk popping on my blue light glasses to hopefully disguise some of the redness in my eyes.
At this rate, I couldn’t help myself any longer. I went full detective mode on the hCG tests from my previous miscarriage to find out that even my first test with the baby we miscarried was much, much higher.
While my heart wanted to hold onto some hope, my mind was working harder sheltering that heart of mine.
Thoughts continued to race in my head in what feels like a damn tornado - ‘There’s just no way this is normal and it’d be a damn miracle if the levels rise. But, it’s so early. You never know. God has a plan, just let it be’.
Back and forth, like a ping-pong match, I think through just about everything.
Finally, after I’ve had enough of myself and my thoughts, I text my two life-long friends, three more friends and my parents and my brother to give a brief update and request some prayers.
Life Moves On
Before I knew it, 10:15 rolled around and a calendar reminder popped up on my computer screen ‘Harper’s Bowling Fieldtrip’. I smiled to myself thinking what great ‘God-Wink’ timing. I so badly needed to get away from my computer, my phone and my thoughts and there was no better place to be than spending time with my daughter.
I arrived to quickly receive a huge hug from Harper - if only she knew how bad I needed that hug! Shortly after we started bowling, another friend of mine from college arrived with her son who also attends Harper’s daycare.
We greeted each other briefly amid the chaos of bowling balls and 20 five-year olds as she asked me how I was doing.
‘Good, you?’ I responded knowing now wasn’t the place to share my news knowing the emotions would for sure seep out and I didn’t need a whole class of pre-kers questioning me.
Bowling was great and I was onto my next thing. I read a few responses from loved ones before driving off and again, queueing the tears. I giggled to myself thinking it was a damn miracle I had any mascara left at all.
Lunch with co-workers was up next where I engaged in small talk and tried to push my feelings down. Fortunately, I had already planned to work from home that afternoon due to an appointment at our house. Again, what timing.
I drove home in silence, feeling much more numb, and spent most of the day laying on the couch, only addressing things as they came into my inbox. Later in the afternoon, I decided to email my boss too, giving him a brief update on what was going on. Daycare pickup rolled around and I ran to grab the kids. I decided to take them both to Old Navy to get my daughter, Harper, a new outfit for her graduation the next day. She had plenty of clothes at home, but I needed a normal, out-of-the-house activity.
We returned home from a successful shopping trip and I started to prepare dinner while the kids got to enjoy their 20-minutes of TV time and a little snack. As I was moving quickly throughout the kitchen to get food on the table, I felt something all too familiar.
The Confirmation We Needed
I knew before I even made it up the stairs that I was bleeding. And it wasn’t just spotting.
At that moment, the small sliver of hope I was holding on to, was gone. There was no way this wasn’t a chemical pregnancy.
Being it was after 5 p.m., I opened Chat again and sure enough, it was common to have period-like symptoms during a chemical pregnancy. I wasn’t sure if my husband was still at work or on his way home, but I texted him with the news. As soon as he walked through the door and I could hand off the kitchen and kid duties, I went upstairs and had a good, long cry taking some time to process the fact that we didn’t need to wait for my blood draw on Thursday morning to receive our answer.
There was some relief in that, not needing to wait, but at this point, more anger and sadness that we’d be navigating miscarriage again.
‘Why is Mom so Sad?’
I came back downstairs and attempted to eat my dinner with my family.
As I sat at our kitchen table, I couldn’t help but think of the dinner we shared after we learned of our first loss. At the time, our daughter was 2 and didn’t have a clue as to why mom and dad were crying at the table while we choked down our food.
Now, at 5-years-old, things were much different as she continued to repeatedly ask why I was so sad. Our son, now 2, kept busy and like our daughter three years ago, had little interest outside his toys and running like a mad-man through the house.
While my husband cleaned up dinner, I asked Harper to come into the basement with me. I was questioning if this situation was something she was capable of comprehending. When she asked me what was wrong for what felt like the 10th time, I decided I’d fumble my way through explaining what was happening.
I started with reminding her how we had been praying for God to give us a baby. I then shared that I had a baby in my belly, but unfortunately, the baby didn’t grow strong enough and God decided the baby needed to come to heaven with him. She followed along asking some age-appropriate questions. I shared with her that this had happened to mom and dad once before we had her brother, Paxton. She asked some questions about how her and her brother were able to grow strong and I answered that God decides which babies get to live here on earth and which babies go to heaven.
I explained that we don’t always understand why and that’s why Mom has been so sad. I expected the conversation to go on a lot longer, with questions that were going to be difficult to answer. Thankfully, we wrapped up pretty quickly with my daughter asking if God would give us another baby.
To that, I answered I hope so and that we would have to continue praying, which she reminded me of that night before bed.
Managing the Symptoms and Emotions
On Tuesday, I had full intention of heading to work on Wednesday. Thinking we’d still be waiting for my blood draw, I figured I had nothing better to do and some distraction would be just what I needed. But the symptoms had worsened and I needed to process the emotions. So I emailed my team what was going on and took the day off.
And I’m really glad I did. It gave me the time to feel all the feels and most importantly, not pretend like something wasn’t happening. Because in my experience, it’s almost harder not to talk about situations as such, even if it’s awkward and uncomfortable.
By the time Thursday morning rolled around, I was still sad of course, but I felt more in tune with my faith. There was a reason and while we may not see it yet, we will eventually.
As I drove again to the hospital, I listened to Lauren Daigle. Tears again streamed down my face, but this time there wasn’t confusion in why I felt emotional. While this blood test was required for lack of better words by my doctor, it wasn’t necessary for me.
I knew what the result would be and even more importantly, that we’d be okay.
A Few Weeks Later
My blood test came back as suspected and we received condolences from our doctors office. I asked a few questions about my cycle returning and after a few messages back and forth, the conversation came to a close.
Which felt odd. While yes, the timing of everything didn’t last more than a few weeks, the emotional toil of the situation felt like too much to just wrap up so quickly.
But of course, these situations are more common than we think.
25-30% of conceptions result in a chemical pregnancy. And chemical pregnancies account for 75% of all miscarriages.
While it seems like more families are open to sharing their ups and downs towards growing their families, I wasn’t at all familiar with the chemical pregnancy nor did I have any close friends, that I knew of, that had experienced one.
As the weeks went on, my body went back to normal, quicker than I had anticipated based on my experience with our last miscarriage.
And truthfully, I felt okay mentally and emotionally. I felt so normal that I questioned why I didn’t feel worse. And to this day, I don’t know if I have an answer to that.
I want to believe it’s my faith and the ability to reflect back on the many instances where God has thrown what I would consider a wrench at the time in my plans only for him to turn around and provide some incredible blessings.
I also considered that again, life continues to move on - I was fortunate to have plenty of blessings around me to occupy my thoughts and taking the time to share this journey with others allowed time to process versus acting like it didn’t happen.
And as we move forward with future hopes to expand our family, I am confident that this situation will make more sense and yes, even grateful for the conversations, God winks and faith-building that occurred as we walked this path.
If you are struggling to grow your family or navigating loss, my prayers are with you! Keep the faith, acknowledge the hard and never feel ashamed to share your journey.
