Amanda Trammel

Mom to Baby T 
September 25, 2012

2 Pink Lines

It’s Sunday, September 24, 2012.  At 7 am my husband’s alarm goes off alerting us that it’s a new day. Since neither of us are morning people he rolls over and hits snooze. About 10 minutes later I rise knowing that if I don’t get out of bed soon we’ll never make it to church on time. I head to the bathroom as is my usual morning routine but today I open that box of magic wands and decide I better try again. Let’s just see. I’d taken one 10 days prior with the usual results but since nothing has changed I decide to just be extra sure.

Half asleep / half awake, I grab that magic wand expecting no magic at all. After all this has to be the 20th or so since this time last year.  Why should today be any different? I wait the customary 2 minutes and then…2…pink…lines.

I turn on another light because surely it’s the sun or a shadow or something…right?  


I look in the mirror and think to myself, “Is today really the day”? The day when a 2 years of prayers culminates into the greatest gift I’ve ever received? My hands begin to shake and I tell myself to stay calm. Besides, if I shake this magic wand too much it may lose some of its’ wonderful powers. Powers that give joy where there was sadness, expectation where there was hopelessness. No, be very careful, you’re holding your future.


Immediately I wonder how I am going to tell my husband. For years I’ve fantasized about the clever ways I’d do it. Put a pair of tiny blue socks in his sock drawer and wait until he finds them. “Surprise!! You’re going to be a dad!!” Give him a Father’s Day card in September. That would be perfect. But in this moment I know I’ll never be able to keep this blessing from him for another 2 minutes let alone 2 days. And really, where would I get a Father’s Day card in September anyway.

I walk back to the bedroom where my husband lies in bed still mostly asleep and say those 4 little words I know he’s been waiting so long to hear. “I think I’m pregnant.” Neither of us knows what to do so we embrace and cry and thank God all at the same time. So many questions. So many plans. We look at each other and wonder the same thing. What do we do now? We’ll have to move, our house is tiny. I need a new car, I drive a ’99 Mustang. We need more money, I’ll have to start hoarding cash. First things first, we have to be at church soon.

We decide to keep the happy news to ourselves until we’re sure, except of course for family. We head to church and I float through service. I’ve never experienced anything like it. So grateful, so happy. “Lord I’m amazed by you.” After church we tell our parents and siblings. Everyone is ecstatic. They are already making plans. I buy the famous book that all expectant mothers MUST have and start reading. Pure joy like I’ve never known.

We sleep that night with rattles and diapers and bottles on the brain and awake the next day calling each other mom and dad. We head to work and the first thing I do is call my doctor’s office.

“Hello. OB-GYN Associates.”

“Yes, I need to make an appointment. I took a positive pregnancy test yesterday.”

Congratulations and routine questions follow. “It looks like your due date would be April 24th, 2013.” What a wonderful birthday!!

And then she blindsides me. “Have you been spotting?”

“Well actually yes but just a little on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Ok well we’ll set your appointment for blah, blah, blah.”


“The prenatal nurse will give you a call in a bit. Make sure you tell her you’ve been spotting.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

It starts small…doubt. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was only 1 pink line. Maybe…no I won’t even go there. An hour passes and finally my phone rings.

“So I hear you’ve been spotting.”

“Yes but just a little.”

“Well come in an hour and we’ll do some blood work and see where we are.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

That small doubt begins to grow but I push it out of my mind…I think. I head to the doctor and am called to the back. Just a tiny needle prick.

“We’ll have the results in an hour.”

An eternity passes until my phone rings again.



“Your progesterone level is very low so I’m calling in a prescription for you. Take 2 tablets a day and let me know if there is more spotting.”

“Yes ma’am. What does this mean?”

“Your levels just aren’t where we like to see them at this point in the pregnancy. Start the progesterone and come back in 2 days and we’ll test your levels again.”

Doubt comes back, bigger and badder this time. I get online and search for answers. Low progesterone means all things bad and nothing good. 5 pm can’t come fast enough. I head straight to the pharmacy.

“Take 2 a day until they are all gone. Place a tablet between your teeth and cheek and hold it there until it dissolves. Don’t suck on it or swallow it. It has to dissolve into your skin. I have to warn you, it’s very bitter but do your best to keep it in your mouth until it dissolves.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

That first tablet is a shock, so bitter I can hardly stand it. But I’ll do what I have to for my child. As this bitter tablet dissolves in my mouth, bitterness is deposited into my spirit.  I’m supposed to be happy, anticipating bottles and feedings, wondering what my baby will look like, not sucking on this bitter pill.

As I head home doubt is still there along with the bitterness but now their ugly cousin shows up…fear. What if…? I head to the bathroom when I get home and fear turns into truth. Blood, life is leaving me. Panic, tears, wailing. I am alone so I call my husband.

“Please hurry.”

He gets home and immediately brings me to the hospital.


And we wait…and we wait…and we wait. 6 hours after that first bitter pill I look up into my husband’s worried, tired eyes.

“Please bring me home.”

There is nothing left to do, I know. I just want to be in my own bed. We get home, hold each other and cry. Doubt, bitterness, fear, sadness so deep I can hardly breathe. We sleep that night with nothing on the brain. Not anymore. We’re no longer mom and dad, we’re back to being just the 2 of us.

I start the next day like the last, talking to the nurse.

“Well it sounds like a miscarriage. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Just slight cramping. Nothing I can’t handle.” At least physically.

“Well that is to be expected. Come back on Monday for blood work and we’ll see if it’s a complete miscarriage.”

I ask the question I’ve been asking myself for the last 10 hours.


“There’s no way to know. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to call and if the pain gets worse head to the hospital.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

I spend the rest of the day in bed.

Tears…tears…more tears. So many tears.

I talk to God like I never have in my life. I am still reverent but I am…angry.

“Why would you do this? This makes no sense to me? We’ve been waiting so long. Just one more day and I never would have known at all. Why, why, please tell me why?”

I hear nothing in response, at least not right away. The only sound I hear are my tears falling on the pillowcase. The sound is almost non-existent and deafening all at the same time.

“God please just talk to me.”

All I hear is the tiniest “I love you”.

“What? I know that already. Tell me why?”






For 3 days our family holds out hope for a miracle. I struggle to believe with them, even taking that bitter pill twice a day just like the pharmacist said. But deep down I know that life has left. God has taken it back. When or if it will return again is unknown to me. Only He knows and He’s not sharing His timeline.

And so we “move on” to continue life and wait for the day when life returns again. We hold out hope for 2 more pink lines.

You can connect with Amanda by email here.


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