Saturday, June 25, 2022

It's been just over twelve years now since it happened.

Brian and I had been wanting to start a family for quite a while.  It was proving to be more difficult than it should have been.  But then we saw it.


We were going to have a baby.  We were going to have a baby!!  A baby!!  Excited doesn't even begin to cover what we were experiencing.  

We started to get the room ready right away.  It was going to be perfect.  We had painted it, bought a crib and a changing table, and had told a small circle of friends and family.  A baby.  Our own.  

Fast forward.  Things don't feel right.  I've never been pregnant, but this doesn't seem like it's the way it should be.  It hurts too much.  We should go to the ER.  Something's not right.  

"Are you sure you're pregnant?" the sonographer asks me, with a kind smile.  Yes.  So sure.  There were so many positive tests weeks ago.  This baby has furniture.  This baby has a room and a stuffed animal.  This baby has a name.  This baby is so, so loved.  "Oh.  Uuuhhh, I'll be back shortly." she says.

She leaves us in an empty room.  I look at Brian.  This isn't right.  Something's not right.  What's wrong with our baby.  

A bit later a doctor walks in the room and explains that there isn't actually anything in my uterus.  Instead, the embryo is in my fallopian tube.  There are no options.  The pregnancy can't be saved.




I cry.  I want this baby.  This baby has a name.   

What do we do next? I ask.

Well, we terminate this pregnancy, he says.  Terminate.  My baby that already has its own crib.  But what if we don't? I ask.  What if I wait and see what happens? 

Eventually, your tube will rupture.  When this happens, you will need emergency surgery to remove your tube and the embryo.  If we don't catch it in time and get you in to surgery fast enough, you will bleed out into your abdomen.  It can be fatal. 

I cry again.  

I get an injection that is going to stop all development.  Go home, he says.  Take it easy and we'll follow up with some bloodwork to make sure that the pregnancy has been ended effectively.  

We are sent home.  Left to deal with the aftermath that is a pregnancy that has gone very wrong.  We close the door to the nursery; it's too painful to even look in the room as we walk by.  A pregnancy and baby that were so very wanted.  

Still, even in the devastation, I am thankful.  I was able to make a decision about my body, my medical care, with a doctor.  I was able to make a decision that, even though it gutted me, kept me alive.  I didn't have to die because of a pregnancy complication.  

How will we tell our daughters that they don't get to make those same decisions for themselves?  How will we tell them that their life is not worth enough to save?

Thursday, January 1, 2015

"The last reason, and quite possibly the biggest reason, is that this is so incredibly public.  Yes, I know most of you readers personally.  BUT, I have had it happen before that complete strangers have walked up to me and said "Oh, I love reading your blog!  How are the kids?!"  To me, this is becoming unnerving..."

Remember that paragraph?  It was one of the final paragraphs in my *previous* final post on this blog.  I was posting about my lack of blogging, and explaining why I was becoming uneasy continue posts in this space.

You know what else is unnerving?  Having a complete stranger come to this space, steal my pictures and information, and pass it off as their own.

If you scroll down, you may notice that this page is missing something.  Quite a bit of something.  All of my previous posts something.  Don't worry, I didn't delete them all.  I still have them all saved on the backspace of this blog.  I can read them and revisit them anytime I would like to.  But....why aren't they here?  Because someone actually pulled a bunch of pictures from this blog and passed them off as their own.  Someone was claiming that they were expecting triplets....the same triplets that are currently snuggled in my bed watching IPTV on a lazy first day of 2015.  Someone had taken my profile picture and said that it was them.

I'm sad that this space will end this way, but I feel I need to give an explanation why "The Koobers" is no more.  Yes, it's unnerving that a complete stranger would approach me in a store to talk about my own children.  But it's even more unnerving that someone would steal photos and information and try to pass it off as themselves for their own gain. 

I'm on facebook, so if you still need a Koober fix you can friend me there.  But, I guess as far as this blog is concerned, this really is it.  Thanks for being a part of our story. Thanks for the prayers, the comments, the support, all of it.  We treasure it more than you could possibly know.