“Our story is a romantic comedy, tragedy, and an incredible fairy tale that is ever transitioning through those three cycles. Ultimately, every person on the planet has the ability to claim this about their own collection of trials and tribulations we call life.
Our journey began in San Diego, California on the internet. Match.com to be precise. The year was 2008. Smartphones were this ‘cool new thing’ that seemed like a neat accessory to have. Granted, we were still rocking flip phones and thus, checking our emails on a computer. In ‘08, meeting a love interest online was not common, nor was it normal. Regardless, I (a kindergarten teacher) saw this very handsome firefighter online and sent him a message.
Hot firefighter guy and I hit it off and immediately started dating exclusively. When friends would ask us the dreaded, ‘How did you two meet?’ question, we did what any courageous young couple would do. We lied. We told elaborate tall tales of meeting in traffic, meeting at a coffee shop, etc. Unfortunately, the whole thing came crashing down when we told conflicting stories in front of folks who had heard different versions of our meet up. We collectively had a good laugh at our expense as we were the weirdos who met through a ‘dating service.’ His firefighter friends asked us if we ‘recorded VHS tapes and made pitches to potential future partners.’ It actually was hilarious because that’s literally how my mom met my stepdad in the early 90s.
Our romance eventually bloomed into marriage. We lived a wonderful life that consisted of traveling the world and experiencing much of what this planet has to offer. It was special to do this with my husband, who would often say, ‘Being a kid from South San Diego, I never thought I would leave the city, let alone see the world.’
Our life was terrific and exciting, but we began to feel a certain longing. To quote a line from our children’s book, Whirlwinds to Rainbow: The Story of Us, ‘We knew we wanted something bigger, a new family kind of fun. So down a different path hand in hand we would run. But it’s not an easy path for everyone.’ Many people spend years of their adult lives trying not to have a baby. Of course, we thought it would be a piece of cake… Obviously, that wasn’t the case.
It took us over a year to get pregnant the first time, but we finally were successful. One day, I was teaching my kinder babies, when I felt something was very wrong. When I went to the bathroom, there wasn’t spotting. There was blood, a lot of it. I didn’t want to abandon my little ones, so I finished the day. As soon as class was dismissed, I called my colleagues, who are also my best friends, for help. They took me to the ER where my husband met us (he was on duty).
The doctors confirmed our worst nightmare. I was having a miscarriage. Nothing prepares you for this. How could this be happening? In the blink of an eye, without any explanation, it was over. I wanted to be alone that night. That’s just how I deal with things. My husband asked persistently if he should take the rest of the night off, but I just wanted to be alone. Once I woke up the next morning, I realized he was grieving too. He wanted to be there for me, but he wanted me to be there for him as well.
After another year of trying, we successfully became pregnant again. I thought, ‘Okay, we got that bad one out of our system. We’re going to be fine.’ My husband and I knew this would be the case. At 9 weeks, there was spotting. I was concerned, but fearfully hopeful. Then, in the middle of the night, it happened. To this day, I have never felt a pain that even comes close to the sensation I felt during miscarriage number two. I’ve never been ripped in half, but I would imagine the agony I suffered that night comes close.
I woke up in extreme pain. As I sat on the toilet crying, the most intense wave of pain came over me, and I immediately started throwing up. I’m not sure how long this was going on, but it seemed like forever. I kept trying to scream for my husband, but no sound would leave my vocal cords. I was finally able to crawl to our bed and repeatedly slammed on the bed to wake him up. As a firefighter who doesn’t get great sleep at the station when he’s on duty, he sleeps like a rock when he’s at home.
He picked me up, set me in the car, and rushed me to the ER. It was approximately 2 a.m. when the doctor confirmed our world was shattered again. I was discharged from the hospital around 6 a.m. My kindergarten class had a field trip to Sea World that day. My husband pleaded with me to call in sick and rest, as I’d had a brutal night. I gently explained to him there was no way I was going to abandon my class. They were the only babies I had left, and I needed them as much as they needed me. And again, my method of processing loss is to keep moving. I find when I sit idle, my mind creates more problems for itself. There was nothing I could do about it. I had to keep going.
We were utterly defeated, deflated, and devastated. Triple D’s (yes, my husband helped me write this). Our closest friends had all started trying after us and seemingly without issue, had healthy babies. It was as if the world had intended to play a cruel joke on the Morrisons for reasons no doctor could identify. They kept saying one of the worst possible things a medical professional can tell a patient: ‘You both seem fine. We have NO IDEA why this keeps happening.’ We didn’t give up, but we mutually decided on taking a break.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, the cliche and infuriatingly annoying advice of ‘just relax and it will happen,’ happened. There it was, a positive pregnancy test. I took it late one night while he was sleeping and didn’t want to wake him because it was just another positive test. It didn’t mean anything to me. I took another one the next morning and honestly, just got upset. Here we go again. More waiting for yet another miscarriage and pain. I walked into our bedroom and tossed it on the bed. I didn’t say a word. He was his normal positive self. ‘We got this, no matter the outcome, we are in this together.’ He thanked me again for going through what I’ve been through to try and build our family and for not giving up.
Since I am high risk due to recurrent miscarriages, over 35, and have type 1 diabetes, I had my first ultrasound at 6 weeks. My husband was out of town for work when I had my first appointment, so I brought one of my best friends. As we sat there preparing, the ultrasound tech made the critical mistake of saying we should hear a heartbeat today. The exam starts and the opposite of what was promised occurred. We didn’t see anything on the screen. Nothing. All I saw was a small fuzz in the top left corner of my uterus. For all I knew, it could have been a dusty screen.
But what was evident, was it was NOT a healthy baby. To make matters exponentially worse, the ultrasound tech wasn’t hopeful. Although my heart was ripped to pieces yet again, all I could think about was my friend who was with me. I knew she didn’t know what to say. Luckily, we have the most amazing support system with family and friends, who are continuously cheering us on. It breaks my heart even more because our tribe is so invested and hopeful. I know there are no ‘right’ words to say in these situations.
I panicked and called my husband in a hysterical state. He managed to calm me down, and with a 50/50 mixture of hope and dread in our hearts, we waited for the next appointment one week later.
My husband and I prepared ourselves for the worst. We knew there wasn’t a heartbeat last time, which meant another failed pregnancy. The procedure started, and the tension in the room was palpable. I could feel the immense fear in both of us as we tightly held each other’s hands. The silence was deafening. As told by my husband, since I couldn’t look at the screen, the shapes on the screen morphed and moved like fluid in a plastic bag, but there was nothing definitive to be deciphered. Hope was fading as the exam seemingly went on and on.
As the wand moved slightly, a small bouncing bean-like object appeared on the screen. Then the nurse asked, ‘Do you want to hear the heartbeat?’ That was when I finally looked at the screen. A booming tha-thump, tha-thump echoed throughout the room. It was the most beautiful sound we have ever heard to this day. I’ve only seen Mark with tears in his eyes twice in the 12 years we’ve been together. This day was one of them. The feelings of triumph and elation are not something I’ll soon forget.
The third time is apparently the charm for us because this one actually stuck. I definitely held my breath throughout the entire pregnancy. You see, infertility robs you of so much: hope, time, excitement, positivity, patience, calmness, cute Instagram announcements, the list goes on. However, true to the theme of this journey, our son ended up being an emergency c-section after non-stop pushing for 3 hours. He is our little rock star and is the absolute best!
We have our son! We’ve paid our dues! There’s no way that we’re going to go through the misery of loss again. It was an incredible new lease on life and an exceptional feeling to have. Little did we know, it was an ideology that would end up being rooted in delusion. We got pregnant a fourth time. Our son was 2 and consistently saying that he wanted a baby brother and sister. Not just one, he always emphasized both!
When we got pregnant, we were so incredibly excited to tell him he was going to be a big brother. You could imagine the heart-wrenching agony of having to explain to him this wasn’t going to be the case when there wasn’t a heartbeat at the 8-week appointment.
The amount of time stolen due to miscarriage fills me with a resentment I don’t know where to place. I had to go back for a 9-week appt and then at 10 weeks, had to experience the most abrasive ultrasound appointment at the hospital to absolutely make sure nothing was hiding in my uterus. After that ultrasound appointment, I saw an OB who told me my three options: 1) Wait it out, 2) Take misoprostol, 3) D&C. I asked the nurse if I could be put under for the D&C and she said that wasn’t an option. So I chose misoprostol. Wow, there was so much blood all night long. I woke up every hour from cramps and had to change the drenched and overflowing pad. No way could anything be left in me.
One week later, I went to make sure my uterus was empty. Our bad luck remained consistent and added insult to injury, the drug was ineffective. I had the choice of more misoprostol or a D&C. I told this nurse if I could be put under during a D&C, I would definitely choose that option. She said I could absolutely do that. I was so enraged this could have been dealt with 2 weeks ago if the other nurse would have been more knowledgeable. Anyways, the D&C was scheduled and completed.
We then had to wait for what seemed to be an eternity for my period to return in order for us to start trying again. 6 months. It took 6 months to get my period. Not only do we have to experience the pain and heartbreak of miscarriage, but the waiting process to start over is excruciating. We have since been trying to conceive for a year after the last miscarriage. We had a failed round of IUI last month, yet we are both still hopeful and continue to try for a sibling for Logan. He will be the best big brother someday!
That is our story. Or more like our rollercoaster! Our goal now is to dissect why it is that people are embarrassed and ashamed, including us, about discussing this difficult topic. It’s important for people to grieve how they need to, but should never feel compelled to face this alone. Our brand name, Bombproof Family, is defined as a family that is indestructible. No matter the obstacles to overcome or any adversity faced, the Bombproof Family carries on.
By virtue of my husband’s profession, he’s very particular about the way he compartmentalizes and processes grief and loss. Just recently, his healing process led to him writing me a recount of our story for Mother’s Day. The joy and peace we found in the eventual triumph over life’s most extreme adversity, is represented in the children’s book he wrote. It’s an emotional and wonderful story so many couples have experienced. Whirlwinds to Rainbow: The Story of Us is available now and aims to be a heartfelt tribute to the women who have heroically sacrificed so much in the pursuit of creating a family.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Kimberly Morrison from San Diego, CA. Follow their journey on Instagram and their website. Submit your own story here and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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‘I was 19 and diligently on birth control. My heart raced seeing those two lines. Shocked was an understatement.’: Young mom births 3 rainbow babies after multiple miscarriages, ‘Don’t give up, friend’
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