MORE THAN A MISCARRIAGE

I’ve sat down to write this story countless times over the past 10 weeks. I’ve told it to friends, family and just about anyone who has asked but for some reason sitting down to write it out just seems so personal. I’ve shared a broad generalization of the event on social media and I’ve even shared a bit on the details but writing them all out seems so much harder than just speaking it. Putting that day and that night into words, typing them out, gives it a level of tangibility. This is real life and this happened. I’m still working on that realization.

This space, my space on the internet, my blog… it’s tidbits of my life, the things I love and what I’ve learned along the way. There’s a lot I’ve learned over the past 2 months and so many things I want to talk about surrounding miscarriage and loss but they all start with simply sharing my story first. This post is long and straight from my heart so bear with me. The emotions are raw.

Let’s start with a little history. We decided we wanted to start trying for another baby when the New Year came. I had been thinking about it for years at this point but the timing just wasn’t right. When the New Year came, I was starting to get a little desperate for a baby. Have you ever had that insane baby fever? It’s all consuming! I thought about it nearly every day, it was as if my body actually ached for another baby. We conceived in mid-March and were so excited. Flash forward to 5 weeks pregnant, we had just found out we were expecting and we hadn’t told anyone yet, except a very few close friends. On April 14th, I was at a photography session and started experiencing severe cramps. At first I thought it was just gas because your body does crazy things when pregnant but shortly after the cramps came the blood. I was convinced I was miscarrying. We went to the hospital to make sure it wasn’t an ectopic pregnancy, as I had never experienced a miscarriage so this was all very foreign.

At the hospital, they were able to see the baby and a tiny little flicker of a heartbeat. We were discharged and diagnosed with a sub-chorionic hemorrhage and a threatened miscarriage, the terrible medical term for any first trimester bleeding. I was followed weekly by the OB team and I continued to bleed with the sub-chorionic hemorrhage until week 9 when the bleeding began to taper off to spotting and then eventually let up almost entirely around week 11.

On June 6^th , at 12 weeks and 4 days pregnant, after 2 weeks of nearly no bleeding, I began to bleed again. I had an appointment the week prior and all was okay, they couldn’t see the sub-chorionic hemorrhage any longer and I was cleared to resume life as normal! This time, I was sure something was wrong but I tried to stay positive. We had a pretty busy week, I was really active and thought maybe I just over did it. My husband was set to graduate his surgery residency that weekend and we had just surprised my in-laws with our special pregnancy announcement. I also shared our pregnancy on social media. I had made it past 12 weeks and after all the stress of the first trimester of this pregnancy, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I wanted the whole world to know I was pregnant! I thought we were safe. I thought I was in the clear. I knew the stats and I knew the probability of miscarriage after you see the heartbeat. I knew we were safe! After two months of worry, I thought we had made it past the scary part of this pregnancy and that it would be smooth sailing until December. We were so naïve and so wrong.

The bleeding tapered off that night but I decided to go in to my OB’s office on June 7^th just to get checked out. I thought they’d just do an ultrasound and see the heartbeat and tell me I’m worrying too much, just like they’d said every week for the past 8 weeks. I went in around 12:30, shortly after my husband walked that glorious stage and graduated residency.

By this point, I had talked myself off the cliff and into thinking it was all going to be okay. I’d go in and see the heart beat; it was a great day to see my wiggly, sweet, lime sized baby on that ultrasound. We were done with surgery residency and we were all set to celebrate, what could possibly go wrong? All felt right in my world for a brief moment. I’d give anything to go back to that hour, to feel that bliss again.

We got to the OB’s office and had to wait a bit. Ryan went home with the babes and my mother in law and I grabbed lunch and we chatted about the weather. We talked about our plans to fit the baby in to our tiny house. We laughed at the idea… 5 people sharing 900 sq. ft. We were crazy but we knew it would work. Finally around 2pm they called me back for my ultrasound.

The doc came in and started and within seconds, I could tell something was wrong. I could see my beautiful baby on the screen, my little lime sized baby, two perfect arms, two perfect little legs, a perfectly rounded head. Still. She was still. Motionless. No flutter or flicker, no movement. Just still.

I finally got up the courage to ask if all was okay and her words struck like a ton of bricks crashing down on top of me. Words I’d never thought I’d hear, words I’ll never forget. “I’m sorry, I can’t find the heartbeat” tears pouring down her face. You know it’s bad when the doctor herself is crying. I lost it. I wailed. I begged for her to double check. She brought in another doctor to make sure and that doctor confirmed what we already knew, her voice shaking with sadness. My mother in law held my hand. The tears flowed from all of us. How could it be? How could I have worked so hard over the past 12 weeks and 5 days to keep this baby in me, to keep her alive. How could she not have a heartbeat? Why?

My husband came up and met us and he held me and we cried. The tears just wouldn’t stop. This was by far the worst moment of my life… at the time. The doctor came in after a bit and presented our options. The first option … I could pass the baby naturally, but I couldn’t do it. She explained that I would have labor symptoms and it may be painful. I couldn’t do it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to. She explained that it could happen that night or a week from now, that it would be up to my body to let the baby go. How could I let my baby go? I couldn’t do it.

The second option was to schedule a D&C for the following week but to keep in mind that it was possible that I could begin to labor the baby naturally if I waited. Also not an option for me. I could not labor my baby, my dead baby. Seeing my tiny, dead, lime sized baby. Laboring her. I could not do it. The third option was to schedule the D&C for that night. She explained that it was a quick procedure and I’d be in and out in about 30 minutes and if there were no complications, I’d go home and sleep in my own bed that night.

I needed this to be over. I held my belly and prayed. All the begging and pleading for her life did no good. I couldn’t keep her safe inside me. I needed it to be over, as soon as possible. We started the paperwork to have the procedure that night.

We waited at the hospital until 9pm when they had scheduled the procedure. The only thing that got me through that 5 hour wait was knowing we would try again. This would be the saddest experience of my life but we would try again. I would grieve this sweet baby but we would try again. I would honor her by trying again. We would bring to life a baby; we would hold our third child. I would rub my pregnant belly again. I would feel life inside me again. We would try again. I wish we could try again.

I wish I could go back to those hours before the procedure. I wish I would have held my belly tighter. Savored it more. I didn’t know I’d never carry life within me again. I didn’t know I’d never place my hand on my perfectly plump belly again. I wish I would have taken more than one picture in my hospital gown. I wish I could prep myself better for what could happen, what would happen. I wish I would’ve listened more carefully when the doctor went over the risks. The risks. You don’t think they apply to you. Until they do.