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The darkest times

*This post may have multiple triggers please be aware of that as you continue reading*

We left off at the shocking pregnancy test. I waited the allotted time frame. Terrified to look down at the result. Terrified of a once again another negative test, terrified for the first time of getting a positive. I looked down and there it was. 2 lines. It was positive. Of course you would think why was I not jumping up and down ecstatic? Why was I terrified to have a positive when this is what I had been trying and hoping for? That was the moment when it really set in. I couldn't bare the thought of losing another child, I couldn't bare the thought of not being able to give this child a life. As hard as I tried not to get my hopes up, they were. As hard as I tried not to fall hopelessly in love with the child my body was suppose to be growing, I fell in love. As hard as I tried not to stress about the fear of losing another pregnancy, I stressed. I continued testing day after day, I finally believed it was real. This was going to be my success. Many women miscarry their first pregnancy. I had already done that so why would this not be a healthy pregnancy? We got excited and started living our lives.

Only a few short days later, I started to spot. I knew that was normal in the beginning of pregnancy but that sent me into full panic mode. I instantly called and made an appointment with a doctor out in MN. We went in and got a few blood tests done and the doctor told me he would call me within a few hours and talk about the results. About 30 min after being home my bleeding picked up. Not much later than that, I started to pass large clumps of tissue. I was in shock. Was this happening again?? Why was this happening to me again. I had done everything right. The doctor called and our conversation went something like this. "Hello Karlie, i'm sorry to be calling you with this news..." I interrupt, "I already know, I've started passing the tissue." The doctor then attempted to comfort me and give me his condolences. I silently hung up the phone. I couldn't do this. 

The next day I got a call from the doctors office, I ignored the call. There was nothing else I wanted to hear from them. After 6 missed calls and voicemails I decided to listen to the voicemails. They contained information that I had never known. I was RH negative, and I needed to get a shot because this miscarriage could cause my to get very ill. So I returned to the office for my shot. The doctor explained it to me, and said most people are RH positive, and if someone who is negative gets pregnant with a positive baby, that once the baby gets a circulatory system my blood cells will attack the babies blood cells. I left that day, feeling like a monster.

I willingly walked myself into the darkest part of my life. My husband was working 12-15 hr days 6 days a week. I was 1,000's of miles away from my family and friends. I was completely alone. I was not willing to let go of what I had lost. I stopped working as much, I stayed in my little white walled closed in 1 bedroom apartment in the dark, in silence, all day. I sulked in my own misery all day, and would stay up all night. My husband would come home after working a hard, long day and almost always go to bed shortly after coming home so he could wake up and do it again the next day. His physically demanding job did not allow him the time he needed to cope with the miscarriage. We both lived our days without discussing the miscarriage. We started to grow apart. We weren't just on different pages. We were in different books. I fell deeply depressed. I started doing things that I would have never found appropriate before to help me "cope". I let myself go. My PCOS started taking control of my body, I started gaining enormous amounts of weight. I stopped caring. 

I no longer wanted to live, I felt I would never get the one things I wanted. I would never be a mother. My depression continued to get worse, I continually had thoughts of taking my own life. I hated myself, I hated the things that I couldn't change about myself. I was terrified of what my future would contain. I felt the need to leave my husband so he would be able to find a women who could do the things a women should be able to. He would be able to have a wife that could give him a family. I then started crying nightly to my husband about wanting to go home. That was all I wanted. I wanted to run from everything. I then found out my dear, sweet grandpa was in the hospital. He wasn't doing well. But, this was something that happened often. He always bounced back. He was strong. This time, he wasn't as strong as I thought he was. I was then booking a flight back to my hometown to attend his funeral. My grief was piling up. My guilt was eating me alive. I returned home for the weekend. I felt as if I had to pretend to be someone else. I felt socially awkward around my own family. I still felt alone, even with many people around me. I was no longer me. I had lost who I once was. I couldn't bare the though of being who I was. But, I didn't know how to get myself back. I was now a monster. 

After returning to Minnesota, I started thinking why would God not allow me to be a mother? I was a good person, I was loving, caring, and felt I was made to be a mother. I then started to resent God. I started to really distance myself from the church. I was filled with anger. Why would God, give me PCOS, and then have me find out I was RH negative, why did he give me modern medicine to help me fulfill my dreams. And then take everything away from me? I started having every doubt in the book. Was God real? Was I not living my life the way I was suppose to? Is he punishing me for my rebellious teenage years? Or did he mess up and give me an obstacle I couldn't overcome? I then lost myself more than ever. Who had I become? Could I ever get back to being me? Or was this my new reality?