Marriage: Refine and Fire

Part Five

August, 2018 with some friends on the Culumber Farm. (pic credit: Yee Feng)

Early in our relationship Lucas made many attempts to get me to watch Community with him. I had seen trailers and had zero interest. Actually we already had invested time in the Office and Parks and Rec, I didn’t see the need for another show. Plus we really didn’t have a ton of time to watch shows. Then pregnancy and Covid happened and I found myself reading and watching more shows than ever before. I finally took the bait and immediately understood the appeal.

Mainly the relationship between Abed and Troy (two of the six main characters) creates an endearing and hilarious dynamic to the show. There is one episode in particular where Abed creates multiple timeline universes with the roll of a die. One timeline is the darkest and literally the worst possible events that could happen to all the characters, do in fact take place. Well Lucas and I joke our timeline got switched to the darkest one in the later half of 2018. Things got real, fast.

October, 2018 along Lake Washington.

Our spring and summer had been healing and encouraging on the marriage and career front. I was loving my position as a financial para-planner for a smaller financial advising firm. Lucas was becoming more confident in his project management role at a construction development company. We began discussing what it would look like to start a family and the possibility of buying a home. We were moving out of crisis mode and into a season of stability which allowed us to dream and plan.

Toward the end of August, we began looking at houses and found one we loved. We called it “The Brick House”. Everything on its exterior was covered in bright red brick: the siding, window frames, patio and side fence. It had a questionable jacuzzi in the back enclosed patio and an ADU (or DADU, however you want to say it) in the back. It was a bit above our price range which meant possibly delaying when we’d start a family but we placed an offer. The market in late 2018 was competitive but we were hopeful. We were outbid miserably. What a blessing. I wish past Hayley and Lucas knew.

A few weeks later in early September I began experiencing some abnormal health issues. Another week passed and after several different internet rabbit holes, my late period became more of a centerfold issue. I took a pregnancy test and it was unclear. I went to my doctor and she ran a blood test. I was pregnant… maybe. They needed to run more blood tests, but I needed to come back in a few days to see if my HCG levels were going up. For now, they were calling it a possible chemical pregnancy. Of course I went home and googled because, what?

We had a weekend before the next round of tests. The following Monday Lucas and I went to work, our heads preoccupied with the pending appointment scheduled for the next day. Mid-morning I got a call from Lucas. At the sound of his hello, I knew something was wrong. His company had closed their doors, he was effectively out of work. We were shocked. 

My office view. This is what I would look at when so many calls and conversations lead me to humbling unknowns. I always see this building and feel humbled.

The next day I went in for the blood test and based on the numbers they thought maybe it was ectopic so they scheduled an ultrasound for the following day. The appointment came and I found myself lying on the table with cold gel smeared on my abdomen. I didn’t know what to look for on the monitor so I watched the technician’s face as she took pictures. She finally looked over, “Great news, you are pregnant and it’s not ectopic. However you are very early. By how large the egg is measuring you are around three weeks.” Again, Lucas and I were shocked.

For those who have been pregnant or walked with a loved one through pregnancy, you understand how strange the first trimester can be. You are elated and terrified. You are excited for a new life, unsure what you need to do next, clueless as to how you’ll take care of someone other than yourself. There is also the lingering possibility of a miscarriage and early celebration could lead to greater mourning. You are stuck in limbo. On top of the mental gymnastics, your body begins its early transformer magic (i.e. you begin to feel terrible). A few days after the ultrasound appointment I woke up to what I can only describe as hell opening a portal in me. It was the most intense heartburn and gastric pain of my life. I called the doctor and she put me on Prilosec.

While Lucas was playing nurse and mentally preparing for a baby, his company had let him know there was a possibility they could bring him back into the office. He was stuck in the middle of a tug-a-war, a  ‘should I stay or should I go?’. God answered his question three weeks later, the company was closing its doors for good. He was officially unemployed and on the hunt for a new job. The same week Lucas received word from his company, I reached a new level of “wtf” pain and called the doctor. She was concerned and had us come in for another ultrasound that morning. Since it was a Saturday we met with an on call doctor who I am convinced was an angel. (Not really, but sort of.)

She wheeled the portable ultrasound into an overfill patient room and slowly, gently, pulled the story from us with her questions. She reassured me, this was an abnormal amount of tests, ultrasounds and appointments for a pregnancy. It wouldn’t always be like this. On the table I went, cold gel was applied and she began scanning the tiny monitor. Her face was set and focused for a few minutes and then with a slight “huh” she smiled. She clicked a few buttons, zoomed the shot and then printed the image. She placed the picture in Lucas’ hand and said “Congratulations! There are two.” We were stunned.

October 6th, 2018, an ultrasound of the twins.

Twins. We were pregnant with twins. The following week at work I felt like I was keeping the greatest secret of my life. I wanted to tell everyone. Lucas and I were so excited. Even though we hadn’t planned on getting pregnant so soon, let alone with two, we were both encouraged to see how excited and ready we were to begin a family. Even though Lucas was out of work, we knew we had nine months and Lucas had the strongest incentive he’d ever felt. It was a week of anticipation, joy and gratitude. The following Saturday, I began to miscarry the twins. Physically the process took two days, mentally it took months.

Lucas and I were crushed, but we were not torn apart. Had the same events taken place a year earlier, I do not think our marriage would have bore the weight. The remainder of October passed, along with November. In December we went to Kauai, a trip we had booked during the summer before the events of the fall. We were raw and empty but instead of relying on anger or self-pity to avoid sadness, we allowed ourselves to grieve. Even more powerful, we exposed our grieving selves to one another, and in return were accepted and loved.

While in Kauai, Lucas learned his last remaining grandparent, his paternal grandfather had passed. Another note on the grieving chord, we came home to Washington and attended his memorial. Christmas felt flat that year, along with the arrival of the New Year. The past few months had been emotionally grinding but it hadn’t been self-inflicted. It is only with time I can look back at early 2019 and rejoice at how far Lucas and I had come in 2018.

In the early weeks of 2019 I once again found my body was at odds. Something, more specifically my cycle, was off. But if there was one lesson I gained from September, it was to give things time and allow for the answers to settle. A few weeks into January I met up with two close friends for dinner. As we caught up, I told them what I was experiencing and one, a practicing doula, asked if I had taken a pregnancy test. I hadn’t because based on how much blood I had been passing that month, there was no way I could be actively pregnant. She convinced me, reasoning won out. I took a test the next day and sure enough, I was pregnant. Lucas and I were confused.

Once more I scheduled another ultrasound appointment for the following Thursday. We eased into the week as if we were taking a winter plunge into the Puget Sound. Our trepidation and resistance was palpable. Our fears came to fruition the night before the ultrasound when I began to experience significant blood loss. We woke up the next morning and prepared ourselves for the dreaded news we would receive in a few hours. Lucas and I went to work, mechanically going through the motions of the day.

We arrived at the appointment and sat in the waiting room, blankly staring at the stacks of parenting magazines on the coffee and side tables. Finally a nurse called us back and the pit in my stomach sank even further. We were ushered into a room and once more cold gel was applied. I lay on the table unable to look at Lucas’ face or the technician’s, I didn’t want to read the tea leaves from her expressions. Death had been a surprising guest in our lives the past few months. But we also experienced hope, unification, and had come to a resolve. This would be hard, physically recovering from this miscarriage would be hard, but Lucas and I could do hard things. In fact we did hard things better together, as it turned out.

Still staring at the ceiling, I listened to the sounds of the ultrasound mix with the air conditioner. I was wondering why they were running the air conditioner in the middle of January when a steady, rhythmic purr rose above the white noise. I lifted my head off the table and looked at the screen. There on the monitor was a clear outline of a bean and in the middle, a visible pulsing light. We were hearing a heartbeat. The technician made some measurements and confirmed I was about eight weeks along. Hudson was on his way.