Rainbows, butterflies and other sad tales

I found out I was pregnant June 30. The bleeding started the next day.

And I've spent the past two months going through weekly blood draws, a few depressing ultrasounds showing no signs of new life, two-for-one shots of Methotrexate, a cancer drug that required me to stop breastfeeding Madeline immediately — and a constant yearning for the lil' munchkin that won't be born in the spring.

We weren't trying to get pregnant but apparently the estrogen-only pills I was taking weren't quite that effective for me. We were both pretty stunned, thinking that we'd have babies about 17 months apart. But it was exciting, too.

And since I seem to be quite the efficient breeder, I never gave it a second thought that this pregnancy would be any different than my previous two. I went online that night and ordered a pink onesie for Madeline which read on the front "I've got a secret..." And on the back continued ... "I'm going to be a big sister!" It was how we were going to share the good news with our families.

I spent the Fourth of July weekend wondering if I was still pregnant or not. But that Monday my HcG levels dropped, confirming I was having a miscarriage. It was the same day I got that damn onesie for Maddy in the mail.

About three weeks later I took a pregnancy test, just to see if my HcG levels were back to normal and the test revealed I was pregnant. A blood test detected even higher HcG levels, possibly indicating a new pregnancy.

After another flurry of blood draws and two ultrasounds and more bleeding, my doctor felt I was either having a continuation of the miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy. There was no sign of a gestational sac or baby in my uterus or tubes so it was highly recommended I get the methotrexate shot, which eliminates any leftover fetal material so I wouldn't find myself with a burst fallopian tube and subsequent emergency surgery. It was an agonizing decision, since I was hoping there was a viable pregnancy in there — anywhere! — but there wasn't.

It was sad for me to be forced to quit nursing Madeline, too. While I was only nursing her mornings and nights at this point, I had hoped to nurse her until she was 1. She was 9 months. Fortunately, she didn't seem bothered by the abrupt end of her breastmilk supply.

Now, two months later, I'm still dealing with the bleeding involved with my pregnancy loss and hopefully that'll end soon. My HcG levels are nearly down to zero.

It's amazing how quickly it took me to become pregnant and how painstakingly long it's taken me to become unpregnant. While I may have only been pregnant for a short time, it's hard not to think about the pregnancy experience and newborn baby that we'll be missing out on. The baby would have been due in March. Around the same time as the Duggar family's 19th baby.

On the miscarriage/pregnancy loss message boards I now frequent they refer to a baby conceived after a miscarriage as a rainbow baby. Hopefully, we'll be able to someday conceive our rainbow baby. My husband isn't ready to make that decision now, however.

In the meantime, I'm thinking about buying a butterfly necklace as a remembrance for the little one who fluttered away, way too soon. Many other cultures, including the Greeks, Celts and early Christians, believed that butterflies were new souls seeking new life, that they represent the undying circle of life and death. The Celts believed that women became pregnant by swallowing tiny butterfly souls.

I saw a Monarch butterfly as I was walking into work the other day and thought of this.

Perhaps, just maybe. He/she will flutter in again and stay this time.

For good.