TW: This post discusses the roller-coaster of pregnancy after loss. If this is not the content for you, please take care 🩵
This past weekend I was sorting through the books we’ve collected for the baby so far—mostly generous donations from my stepdaughter’s library of outgrown picture books (thanks, big sis!) and new additions sent from excited family and friends afar.
At the top of the pile: If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, the classic by Laura Numeroff.
The sing-song of the text lodged in my brain, like a top-40 tune I couldn’t get out of my head, even though I don’t know all the words.
If you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to ask for a…
And so begins the cascade of sudden wants, needs, and whims inspired by the bestowal of a delicious chocolate chip cookie.1
Our lovely mouse cheekily channels the joyfully wandering and endearingly impulsive mind of a toddler. But I, as a 31-year-old adult, felt a newfound kinship with this little guy. Looking back on my first trimester last fall, I was just as much led by one whim and then another, like a chicken (mouse?) with her head cut off as I navigated the roller coaster of joy and anxiety of pregnancy after loss.
I didn’t journal or document much those early days. Survival mode kicked in while the nausea, exhaustion, and bout of prenatal depression appeared almost overnight. But it wasn’t all dull and dreary. I had my own little adventures inside my house, seemingly as mundane as the mouse’s (to an outside person’s perspective) but still so enthralling for me.
If you give a trying-to-conceive lady a pregnancy test…
She’s going to know exactly when to take it in hopes of seeing a second line. And it may or may not be when she and her husband originally discussed testing.
If she sees that second line, she may or may not cry from happiness and overwhelm (have tissues on hand just in case).
When she’s sure it’s positive, she’ll wake her partner up from his peaceful slumber. Maybe not so elegantly.2
When she comes downstairs for breakfast, she’ll hesitate by the coffee carafe. Maybe let’s opt for decaf for now. (Don’t worry, she’ll be sure to remind you of all the annoyingly specific food do’s and don’ts over the next nine months.)
She’ll try to distract herself with work and house chores. But in-between she’ll sneak away to her phone to estimate the baby’s due date (July 7) and look up the Chinese gender predictor calendar (it’s a girl?!).
Out of superstition, she’ll wait a little too long to call her midwife to schedule her 8-week appointment — they book up so quickly! And she’ll be a little disappointed that she can’t get in until closer to 10 weeks.
In the meantime, she’ll ask her midwife to monitor HCG levels over the first few weeks. She’ll dutifully report to the local lab for blood draws every three days.
On the way back home from the lab, she’ll get a little hangry. You’ll have to make a pit stop at Panera and convince them to make a bacon, egg, and cheese on a toasted croissant (apparently toasted croissants are banned there as a fire hazard).
When she gets home from the lab, she will not-so-patiently refresh her online health portal to find out the results. She’ll finally settle down once her HCG levels are in, confirming the pregnancy is progressing on track.
But the next morning will come and suddenly she’ll be convinced the baby’s gone, despite no real indication that anything’s gone awry. She’ll cry on and off throughout the day, mostly unexplainable. Give her a hug and let her be. She’ll feel better the next day (she hopes).3
She’ll download no less than five pregnancy apps to track every possible detail about this growing baby.
You might suggest she make her favorite air-fried salmon and nori for dinner. No can do—the thought of fish, beef, and other meat will be unbearable right now.
But she will send you out on some important missions to procure, in abundant amounts: oranges, apple juice, and Chex Mix refills because she may or may not raid the kid snack drawer.
At 8pm you might try to find her for a family movie night. She’ll be in bed sound asleep by then. Tuck her in, and make sure the Tums are by her nightstand—she’ll need them in the middle of the night.
Much gratitude to my husband for going on this adventure with me 🩵
This pregnant lady would prefer a chocolate covered pretzel right now.
Sorry, babe!
I did, thankfully. Of course, talk to your doctor if you’re having continuous feelings of hopelessness and deep lows. Support through this time is so important!