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I shut the world out, because it wasn't worth living in...

I was 18 years old when I found out I was pregnant with my first child on August 2, 2013. I was scared of course but I told my family anyway. We had accepted that this was going to be the journey for all of us. I was 9 weeks pregnant when I woke up with spotting. I called the doctor immediately. Fearing for the worst. He told me to relax and spend the day in bed. So, I did. The bleeding lightened the next morning so I thought everything was fine . He scheduled me for an ultrasound anyway just to be sure. I went to work like usual and then went to an Altoona Curve game with my family. That night, I came home and the bleeding was back, only this time worse. I went to bed that night thinking everything would be just fine and I dreamt I had a miscarriage, I was covered in blood and holding a placenta. I woke up bawling. I finally got myself back to sleep when I woke a few hours later to intense cramps. I was in so much pain, I laid in bed for hours crying. After what seemed like forever, I felt this urge to push and I went to the bathroom. After I was finished, the cramps had stopped and I felt better. I went to the doctor the next day, August 22, 2013, for an ultrasound and was told to empty my bladder for a transvaginal ultrasound. As I was doing that, I looked into the toilet and finally saw all of the clots. I instantly lost the feeling in my stomach and began bawling. I knew that my baby was gone. My mother knew as well and held me as we cried together.

I went through the ultrasound and they only found an empty sac. Told me to go home and rest for a few days, that the placenta would come out on its own, and offered me pain medication. I refused the offer because I had blamed myself. The next day, after I took my morning pee, I stood up and out fell the placenta onto the floor. I could have lost it right there, but instead I picked it up, holding onto the only thing I had of my child. I laid in bed from that moment everyday. I went to work only because I had to but everyone knew I had changed. My babies father knew it as well because I just quit talking to him. I shut the world out because it just wasnt worth living in anymore.

I went back to college August 25 and found it hard to focus on my classes, I failed for the first time in my life. I took a semester off to find myself and found myself wanting another child, I couldn't bare to look at anyone who was pregnant. I finally got another chance in February 2014 as I saw two pink lines. I called the doctor immediately who gave me an ultrasound and hcg test. I was measuring 5 weeks but they couldn't find a placenta, a baby, nothing in my ultrasound. Panicked they continued to send me for regular hcg quants, which continued to rise but didn't double. They sent me to a specialist who still couldn't find my baby. Refusing to give up hope, I continued to carry because I just knew this baby would show up sometime. I was sent to the emergency room in March with excessive cramps. Thinking this was the end, they sent me for an emergency ultrasound where they still couldn't find my baby. The hcg quant came back and my babies numbers had begun to fall. My heart sank and they convinced me to get a methotrexate shot to speed the process. I felt empty, emotionally destroyed. They sent me for blood work a few weeks afterwards and told me I suffer from a rare disorder called Anti-Thrombin 3 deficiency ( I clot too quickly). The simple fix is to take an anticoagulant before and after conception as well as birth, so they say. To this day, I still cry every time I see a friend's ultrasound and still wonder if I will have children of my own. My fear of losing another has stopped me from trying right now, but someday I'll find out whether I can or can't have a child. No one will ever understand how my life was changed by two sets of little pink lines and how I lost not one but two relationships with those babies. I am no longer with either of their fathers because things were just never the same afterwards.

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