The Big Wrap Up

It's a bit of a convoluted story and will take a little while to tell, but I will now tell you the tale of how Bill and I returned to the United States and celebrated our 1 year marriage anniversary by crouching in a friend's bathroom and having a miscarriage.

This story starts back in Tasmania in April 2017.  You may have heard this particular story before: young couple quits their jobs, travels the world with careless abandon, knowingly has unprotected sex on multiple occasions and gets pregnant.  So yeah - that's our story too.  Not terribly original, I know.  But I have to say, we were pretty smitten with the idea of returning to the US to tell our friends and families that we had a gift from Tasmania and that the gift was a baby.  I thought that would be a pretty cool present for my mom.

On April 28, 2017 we boarded a plane from Hobart, Tasmania and flew to Brisbane which is on the southern end of Queensland.  We took a train another hour south and arrived to Mermaid Waters.  Yes, that is the real name of the suburb.  My college friend, Leslie, and her boyfriend (actually now fiance - they got engaged yesterday!) live there and work as veterinarians.   True to the spirit of nearly every one we met on our trip, Leslie and Courtney graciously accepted us into their homes and took us to local beaches, eateries and even to the wildlife sanctuary where Leslie volunteers.  We saw oodles of sleepy koalas in the most hysterically uncomfortable positions and could not get enough of them.

From Brisbane, we purchased a 1-way hop-on-hop-off train pass on the Queensland Rail and set off north to make the 1,048 mile trip to Cairns.

Our first stop was to Beerwah - the town made famous by none other than Australian super star Steve Irwin.  RIP Crocodile Hunter.  I had just finished reading his biography, written by his wife, Terri Irwin, and was keen on seeing what the Australian Zoo had to offer.  In fact it was a very lovely zoo, but watching the trainers feed crocodiles made me more anxious than impressed.

Our next stop was to Noosa Heads where we met up with Kerri and Owen - an older couple we had met while traveling in Tasmania who had offered to let us stay with them as we traveled north.  They live on a gorgeous property set in rolling green hills with a playful cattledog and a few horses wandering around.
The second day at Owen and Kerri's house I woke up with breasts at least one cup size larger than I had gone to bed with the day before and realized I was 2 days late for my period.  Suspicious doesn't begin to describe it.  I texted my sister in Colorado so that she was also aware of my atypical symptoms and as expected, she also found this to be highly suspicious.
Kerri and Owen drove us to the near by beach town of Noosa (many of you might have heard of this town because of a Colorado-based yogurt company that underwrites heavily for NPR) where we planned to camp for the next 3 days.  We had an unsuccessful attempt at surfing that ended with my thigh looking as purple as a prune from another beginner surfer who couldn't really control his long board as it careened into my body.
Looking back, Noosa was the beginning of our really really lazy and beach-heavy month in Queensland.  It was a harbinger of what was to come: lots of sitting, so many books, and meditating to the sound of crashing waves.

From Noosa, we took the train to Rockhampton - a town that I've yet to hear a positive thing about.  Every single person we talked to said that they were only there for work and would be happy to leave when their project was over.  I think Rockhampton is sort of like the US version of small town Kentucky - isolated, under educated, Walmart rules and the average BMI of each resident is 10 points higher than the more urban hip centers of the state like Brisbane.
We had planned to take a ferry out to Great Keppel Island so we needed to stock up for 5 days of supplies.  Inside the Coles supermarket I purchased pasta, cereal, veggies, fruits and a pregnancy test.  Alone in a dirty super market bathroom in the scuzzyiest town in Queensland my urine made a + appear on a white plastic stick.  If this isn't the romantic "pregnancy reveal" you've always imagined, then I don't know what is.

Stunned to silence, really, Bill and I walked with groceries to the bus stop to wait for our bus and spent a lot of time looking goofily at each other like the way 13-year-olds look at each other across the table while sharing a milkshake for the first time.  Being parents felt like a fake reality at that moment.

We arrived to Great Keppel Island by ferry and walked through the white sand to our tent site.  The owner of the camp is an easy going American who has lived on the Island for 30 years.  Apparently in its hey day, Great Keppel used to be the Lake Powell of spring break - it was full of drunken 20-somethings and was a non-stop party.  Since the early 2000's however, the largest hotel on the island shut down and is now a great place to find gigantic spiders and their webs since no one has torn down the complex nor taken the time to check up on it.  Now, Keppel is a relaxed environment where no one looks at their watches and everyone shares communal meals and can truly check out.  We met some lovely people from France, Tasmania, Canada and other countries who we shared the next 5 days with.  I still felt well enough to hike 8 or 9 miles a day before attempting to snorkel in cloudy water and to our dismay I don't think we saw any fish.  The wind currents and the recent cyclone had made the water visibility on this part of the barrier reef no more than an arm's length away.

After Keppel, we hopped on the train again and this time got off at Airlie Beach.  Airlie is the place now that is known for partying.  A local in Rockhampton told us, "If you don't have fun in Airlie then there's something wrong with you."  I think there's something wrong with us.  While everyone else was enjoying their $5 tequila shots, Bill and I found a super bargain on a 3 pound Australian pregnancy book at a used book store and hunkered down to learn about what was going to be happening to my body in the next few months. Like I said: Party City.

We took another ferry out to South Molle Island, one of the cluster of small islands that make up the Whitsundays.  Typically the Whitsundays are also a party location with clear water and amazing reef snorkeling, but again, because of Cyclone Debbie, the islands were absolutely destroyed - leaves ripped off trees, boats still resting awkwardly in parking lots and more sand still making the water visibility 2 feet at best.  The cool thing was that we were literally the only people on South Molle Island for 3 days.  I've never been the only person on an island before.  Again we hiked around all day, tried to snorkel, then failed at snorkeling.  Read book after book and got really good at smiling at each other because we knew we were going to be parents. Also, Bill pretty much never wore pants.  He Donald Ducked the whole time.

We had an interesting 16 hour train/bus ride from Airlie Beach to Cairns.  The train was 2 hours late to start with and then when we were almost to Cairns, we were informed that there was a bomb threat on the tracks ahead and that we would all have to be evacuated to buses and then in order to preserve our safety we would take a 3-hour detour to circumvent the possible danger.  It was on this 3-hour bus ride that I was introduced to my new friend Morning Sickness.

Once in Cairns, we spent the night at a bare bones hostel in the middle of the downtown partying scene in Cairns.  I can think of no better place to be when you are 6 weeks pregnant, nauseated and wildly fatigued than a bare bones hostel in the middle of a downtown partying district in Queensland Australia.

Actually, I can think of like a million better places.  I had to get out of there.  So where's our happy place?  Back in The Van.

We rented a van, slightly larger than the one we had in NZ, and took it around the Atherton Tablelands for 8 days.  We drove north to the lush rainforests of The Daintree and camped on beaches where a year ago a careless woman had gotten eaten by a crocodile.  All the while I mostly slept, decided I absolute despised the smell of Chai Tea and we settled into a routine where Bill cooked, cleaned, organized, read books about fatherhood and summoned endless amounts of love, support, empathy and thoughtfulness.  This was the first time in our 5-years of coupledom that I could envision Bill as a genuinely helpful father.  Our personal connection strengthened during these weeks more than I knew it could.

When we returned to Cairns, we rented an Air BnB outside of town so that princess Taryn could have a quiet place to spend her time curled in a ball, belching endlessly and watching Lord of the Rings before our flight back to the USA.

We did make it out to the barrier reef and I managed to avoid vomiting on the boat ride out.  Two strangers on the boat were the first people who found out we were pregnant after I had to check "yes" on the pregnancy question to assess whether I would be able to SCUBA dive or not.  Well, the two strangers and my sister.

On the 32-hour, 3 airplane extravaganza from Cairns to Los Angeles I cried after watching Project Runway because I was just so proud of what they had accomplished.  Impressive HCG levels.

When we arrived to LAX on May 31, I was fatigued but felt okay.  The following day I started to feel even better.  My nausea subsided to what I would call a 2-3 out of 10 and I was able to go on short jogs without feeling terrible.  My amazing breasts were still larger than I wanted them to be and at 8 weeks pregnant I thought I might be through the worst of the Morning Sickness.

After a week in California and after getting to tell our families about their impending grandchild/niece/nephew (which by the way, no one seemed very surprised about - well maybe Brooke) we shoved Toby back into our old car and drove to Colorado so that I could interview for a possible job near Vail.

We stayed in the Denver area with our friends Marcy and Jordan who deserve a 5-star rating on Trip Adviser.  The unending kindness and hospitality we experienced in Australia just continued as we received meals, a warm bed, hot showers and friendly gay golden retriever.  The Midwifery Clinic where we had decided to get our prenatal care was able to get us in on Tuesday June 13 for our first OB visit at 10 weeks.  We met Jen, our midwife, who was fantastic, but who could not for the life of her get a heart beat on the doppler.  She offered to ultrasound my belly but said she really wasn't worried about not hearing a heart beat - I was young, healthy and there wasn't much to worry about.  I agreed and then 20 minutes later stuck in Denver traffic I really regretted not getting the ultrasound and I hated not knowing whether the fetus in me was okay or not.

The next day on June 14 we hit the road to make our glorious return to Salt Lake City.  Nearly half way there we stopped in Helper, Utah to get coffee at the only decent place to get a cup between Moab and SLC.  While using the toilet, two large blood clots fell out of me and into the toilet bowl.  The air left my lungs hollow.  In an instant the facts added up: I felt so much better as soon as I arrived at LAX, no heart beat on the doppler.  I realized I was having a miscarriage.

From Helper, Utah to Spanish Fork, Utah Bill and I intermittently teared up and sat in silence.  I called the Midwife, Jen, who walked me through next steps and then called Audrey, my Ob/gyn friend in Salt Lake.  Both were perfectly compassionate and brilliantly intelligent and prepared for this situation which I was not.
Another friend, Kelli, who is an ultrasound tech, helped me with her medical knowledge and she and her boyfriend, Dave, gave us a comfortable place to sleep for two days.

On June 16 we decided to give Kelli and Dave a break and moved into the basement of our friends Audrey and Phil.  Audrey is the Ob/gyn who walked me through first steps when I first realized I was miscarrying.  Phil is also a doctor and we met when I was his student during my PA rotations in 2013.  Their two kids, aged 14 and 17, are wise beyond their years and so much fun to hang out with.  I often forget they're kids because their conversation skills are so adult (or maybe I only have the capacity of a high-schooler and these kids make me feel comfortable and normal?).  In any case, the kindness and generosity of this family cannot be enumerated with any amount of vocabulary that I currently possess.  I'm honored and humbled (sometimes to welling of tears) that this family (and so many others) see Bill and I as deserving of such unmitigated generosity again and again.  We will spend the rest of our lives trying desperately to give back to the world the kindness we've received in the last 6 months and most especially in the last week.  I cannot think of a more appropriate place that I could have possibly been than in the home of a caring family with years of medical expertise in the exact thing that I was suffering from.  It seems like it was always kismet.

On two occasions over that weekend I attempted to go for a hike with friends to take my mind off of things and to get some of that fresh Utah air - and on both of these occasions not only did I not complete the hike but usually I ended up gingerly making my way down the mountain only to spend the next 30 minutes rocking myself in a Chevron bathroom.  Womanhood.

So that brings us to Sunday, June 18th - the one year anniversary of our marriage and the one day anniversary of our first miscarriage**.  Like I mentioned, we attempted to go for a hike with our friend, Van, and like I mentioned, we had to end the hike early because my pelvic cramping inhibited me from standing in an upright position.  Van, such a lovely man, went and bought us lunch and dropped it off after Bill had to take me home.

Audrey and Phil were home and Audrey went into amazing physician AND mother role at the same time.  Ibuprofen, saltines, heat packs, Disney movies and more.  Bill and I were in the bathroom for about an hour while the worst of the cramping left me completely uncomfortable in any position.  I'm pretty sure this was a fun little preview to what I can look forward to in full-on child labor.  Bill couldn't do much aside from being there but wow, I had no idea the extent to which being naked and vulnerable in front of someone could make you feel that much closer to them.  After the worst of it, we settled in a comfy corner of the couch and almost immediately realized the tragic irony of the way in which we were spending our first anniversary.  But if deep appreciation, connection and gratitude are a good way of celebrating a marriage - then we 100% nailed it.

Through the idea of being parents and then through the process of losing that idea Bill and I have grown emotionally closer than ever.  Our partnership at this moment is the most comfortable, productive and supportive that I can remember.  I think this was the point of our "Big Trip", right?  We wanted to take this adventure to learn about ourselves and to improve our marriage and in ways that I didn't really predict, that is totally what happened.

Right now, we are planning to work in Salt Lake City for the summer and then hopefully moving to Colorado in the Fall.  I'm pretty sure we'll be parents someday.  Just not this year.  We are just so stoked to be partners in life and in all of the convoluted situations and stories that make up our reality. 

So that's it.  That's the end of this blog.  We got married, lasted a year, learned to live in a van together and then got so much more out of it than we anticipated.  Thanks to the 10 people who read this blog.  Big hugs.  Taryn & Bill


** I know miscarriages are an uncomfortable topic of conversation.  I wanted to write about my experience because I feel like miscarriages are so normal and so common and yet, like death or sex or any other "taboo" topic we avoid even saying the word to avoid the discomfort.  Current statistics indicate that 20% of positive pregnancy tests end in miscarriage and I suspect the number of total miscarriages is actually higher since many people miscarry in the first 4 weeks of pregnancy and then their miscarriage is presumed to just be a normal period. 
Bill and I have both physically and emotionally recovered really well from this experience.  My body still thinks it's pregnant because my HCG levels haven't come down to normal yet, but I feel fine (aside from still larger than normal boobies).  We have recovered emotionally because we know that none of the miscarriage is our fault and that there was nothing we could have done to have prevented it.  We are in fact grateful that our little fetus self-aborted when it did so as not to result in very complex and difficult decisions should it have lived to 20 weeks or even to term and not have been a healthy human.  We know that one miscarriage has no effect on our fertility or ability to have kids in the future and we are so grateful that my body successfully and healthfully expelled the fetus without any complications.  I was so lucky to be surrounded by the most loving husband and friends (family by phone) during my miscarriage and couldn't possibly have been in better care. 
In conclusion, I'm not ashamed to talk about my experience and am in fact happy to discuss it and how normal it all was in the scheme of womanly life experiences.  Similarly, I acknowledge that not everyone recovers in the same way and that it can be much more difficult for other families (most especially later term miscarriages). I simply wanted to share my "normal" experience - which is the most common one - and "normalize" this experience since if you asked your friends and family, the odds are 1 in 5 of them will say that yeah they had that experience too.