where i've been ❤️

Hey, friend.

I've missed sliding into your inbox every Wednesday to talk wine.

This issue is going to be different.

It's personal, a bit heavy in places, and not really about wine.
If that's not what you're here for today, I completely understand. I'll catch you next time.

(One thing before you go: I'm hosting my last NYC event for a while on May 21. Come wine with me if you can!)

For everyone else, here's where I've been.

But first, the good news:

Remember the big wine exam I was studying for?
I passed WSET Level 3 with Distinction! I also became a Certified Sake Professional recently. Both mean a lot to me, although I'm ready for a break from flash cards.

Now, back to my disappearance.

TW: pregnancy loss

I spent 3 weeks in Switzerland this past February. A childhood friend of mine lives in Geneva, so my husband Andrew and I decided to take one grand, final vacation to visit her before we started trying for a family (aka fucking on a schedule).

Once we got back, I had a lot of work catching up to do, and another trip shortly after. This one to Raleigh, where my parents flew in from Japan for my uncle's Celebration of Life. That was also an emotionally taxing trip.

I rescheduled my March NYC event, partly because I was exhausted from all the travel.

Plus….

Right before we flew to Raleigh, I found out I was pregnant!

Because I am the most Type A planner, I took a pregnancy test the day my period was late. The two lines showed up, and I shoved the pee-covered stick in Andrew’s face.

“I’ve never been happier to be holding something you’ve peed on,” he said.

I kept the “pee stick” (as we affectionately called it) on my nightstand.

The next few weeks were a combination of excitement, anxiety, and (for me, at least) more planning.

Even though it was still early, we decided to tell my parents in Raleigh — I don't get to see them often, since they're based in Tokyo. Before the trip, we went to a private ultrasound clinic and got a sonogram of the tiniest sac in my uterus to surprise them.

Once we were back, we planned a brunch to tell Andrew's family. His mom burst into tears and told everyone at the restaurant she was going to be a grandma. 

I bought pregnancy books and parenting books. In therapy, I talked about how I was struggling with the identity shift into potential motherhood. I downloaded three different pregnancy apps, tracking how the tadpole-esque embryo changed in size from blueberry to raspberry (what's the difference…?)

I researched OBs and called my health insurance multiple times, trying to confirm that the doctor, clinic, and birthing hospital I wanted were in-network.

Andrew and I both work freelance, which means we get our health insurance through the marketplace (oof). I called Blue Cross to see what they'd cover and what I'd be on the hook for.

Turns out, the OB is a specialist so the answer was "you'll pay out of pocket, until you hit your $8,000 deductible. Then, you'll pay a 50% coinsurance until you hit your out of pocket maximum."

Meaning, on top of the monthly premium I have the pleasure of paying, I will also pay at least ~$10k out of pocket to birth this child.

It truly is a mystery that birth rates are rapidly declining in the United States!

I digress.

We went back to the ultrasound clinic for our free follow up at 7 weeks and 2 days, and heard the heartbeat. It was wild that something was actually growing in me!

Meanwhile, the first trimester exhaustion was real.
I'm already a pretty sleepy girl, but this fatigue and brain fog were on another level. All I wanted was carbs and the thought of steak (one of my favorite foods) made me want to vomit.

I took my prenatals, tried to take it easy, and got excited for my first OB appointment. I told a few friends I was pregnant, even as I reminded myself that it was still early, and the risk of miscarriage was still real.

But…I wanted to focus on the positives. There’s a baby* in me!!!
*Tadpole-shaped embryo the size of a blueberry/raspberry

On the first day of Week 9, Andrew and I went to the clinic. I peed in a cup. We were taken back to the ultrasound room. The nice blonde lady did a transvaginal ultrasound, and I squinted at the screen.

Was that little sac the baby?

She kept moving the thing around. Maybe she needs to see it from different angles.

"This is your ovary," she explained, as she moved the wand way to the side. She took a screenshot (???) and labeled it. She asked me to move my knee so she could swing the wand to the other side. "And your other one." More screenshots and labeling.

And then back to the sac. She kept looking at it from different angles, poking the wand around until finally:

“I’m not seeing a heartbeat. I’m so sorry.”

I squinted harder at the screen. Maybe she’s not good at her job.
I mean, I certainly didn’t see anything, but wtf do I know?

She zoomed in, and took a measurement. 

“Measuring at 7 weeks, 3 days. So, that’s probably around the day it stopped growing.”

She gently put her hand on my leg.

“I’m so sorry. Take all the time you need.”

What the fuck?

We met our OB after that ("sorry we have to meet this way"), who assured us that "this happens all the time. Honestly, once you know how many things need to line up perfectly, it's a miracle anyone gets pregnant!"

She walked us through our options: Wait it out, take medication, or surgical removal (D&C).

"You don't have to decide today."

What helped was talking to friends and family, and hearing from women who'd been through it. Almost everyone we talked to had experienced this themselves, or knew someone who had.

It didn't diminish how sad, confused, and defeated I felt at the time, but it was nice to know I wasn't alone. I heard from women who passed their miscarriages naturally, to those who went the medication or surgery route, and now have healthy children.

A few days later, I chose the medication route. 

Ladies.
It was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life.

Imagine the worst period cramps ever, combined with cold sweats and back pain. I was grateful to have Andrew there, rubbing my back and making me tea. I was also grateful for the very strong painkillers.

I won’t bore (traumatize?) you with all the details. But the bleeding and cramps lasted for a couple weeks. 

I cried a lot, couch-potato'd a lot, and drank a lot of wine I hadn't had in weeks. I scrolled through Reddit to confirm what I was going through physically was normal.

I just wanted my body back.

And more so, I wanted information. When would I get my body back? How long would the cramps or bleeding last? I was grateful to Reddit (words I never thought I’d say), and wished more women talked about their own experiences.

But I understand why they don't. It's painful, both physically and emotionally.

As the days passed and I started to feel better, I decided that when this was all over, I'd share my story with you. And hopefully, whether you've been through this yourself or know someone who has, you will feel less alone.

Here's what I'd tell someone going through this:

It’s more common than we think, the grief is real no matter when it ends, and the practical and physical pieces are harder than I expected. The fact that it happens to so many of us doesn't dismiss any of it. It just means we should talk about it more.

Yesterday, I had my follow-up ultrasound with the same blonde lady. It’s been over two weeks since I took the medication, and my cramps were gone.

I was ready for closure. They'd confirm it was over, and we could move on.

Reader, I wish I could tell you that’s why I’m back in your inbox. 

Unfortunately, the blonde ultrasound lady was, once again, too quiet. She was zooming in, taking screenshots and more measurements.

“Unfortunately, there is still some product left behind.”

What am I, a Target warehouse?!

“I’m so sorry. Your doctor will let you know the next steps.”

The OB confirmed.

We were back to the same three options of wait it out (again), try medication (again), or D&C.

I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up late last night reading more stories on Reddit and weighing my options. How long do I keep waiting? We have more travel coming up — when would I schedule the D&C or take the medication? How much would a D&C even cost?

(The answer, btw: once again out of pocket, estimated between $3k–6k.)

And here we are.

I’m frustrated and anxious. And sad again.

And I wish I'd heard more experiences like this. It's one thing to be told something is common, and another to really know it.

If you've experienced this yourself, I'm sending you a big hug.

And please share this with your girlfriends. You never know who might find it comforting to hear about a different person's experience.

I probably won't be back in your inbox next week.
I'm giving myself some more bed & couch time.

The good news is that my May 21 NYC event is still on.
It'll be my last one for a while, so come cab with me if you can!

I'll be back soon, with wine and (hopefully) less depressing news.

Thank you,

P.S. Just in case it has to be said…this is just my own personal experience. None of this is medical advice.