I learned 2 weeks ago that I miscarried and was shocked by the events that followed. I was completely unprepared for what was to come.
The entire 16 weeks that I spent pregnant were rocky. If I wasn't sick, I was constantly worried about the viability of the fetus (we didn't exactly have the fairy tale beginning....see previous blog on roller coaster ride).
And sadly, the pregnancy ended much the same way it began. Not one single day of this journey did I feel prepared to handle the unknowns that lay ahead. Nor did I feel like I was getting answers from the folks who should know, but then again, every pregnancy is different....or so I hear.
My family of 4 met our dear friends for dinner out one evening. During a restroom break I noticed the first sign that trouble lay ahead - a faint pink tinge to the toilet water and something dark quickly flushing away. I had no idea what it was and didn't have time to look before it disappeared. I quickly dismissed it. But during a second restroom break (I was drinking water and preggo so frequent pee breaks are to be expected), I passed something else that terrified me. It was approximately the size of a silver dollar and flesh toned (I have since learned that it was a mucus plug - a protective barrier just outside the cervix meant to protect the fetus from the passage of bacteria. Ps. It would have been helpful to know that ahead of time, as I was seriously concerned that I had unknowingly been host to an alien.). I walked back to our table giving myself a pep talk the whole way. I didn't want to say or do anything that would give reason to worry. Unfortunately, I'm a crappy actress and my face blew my plan out of the water. Despite sputtering reassurances, my husband knew better and frankly told me in front of everyone that I was a "sorry liar". Diversionary tactics were my only resource after that.
I continued to pass fleshy bits and lightly spot the remainder of the evening and the next day. I eventually filled my husband in on what was going on. Being the nurse/science-minded dude that he is, he immediately went to researching. Digging through his undergrad maternal care textbooks and simultaneously typing madly into Google, he offered a quick assessment: Spotting is normal and not always indicative of problems, but should be monitored closely and if worsens or continues for more than a few days should be discussed with the physician. He and I both breathed a little more deeply for a moment.....but that breath wouldn't last us long.
The bleeding began the next day. And our positivity disappeared down the drain with those undeniable signs of blood.
My husband called the doctor and they immediately squeezed me into an ultrasound appointment, which visibly confirmed what the blood had already declared. This pregnancy was not viable. I only made it 16 weeks.
What happened from there is a series of events and feelings that neither of us were prepared one iota for. Though I'd been warned by a friend that miscarriage was painful, NOTHING could prepare me for what was to come.
No one tells you this stuff - not even the people who have experienced it themselves. Why is that? Is miscarriage really that taboo? Why isn't this discussed more freely when you first learn of a pregnancy? After all, the statistics on miscarriage are pretty high...something like 20% of women experience at least one in their child-bearing years. So why wouldn't the positive pregnancy test come with a pamphlet/disclaimer providing information about the possibilities...ALL of them, good or bad? I mean McDonald's has to put "Contents are HOT!" on their coffee cups and blow dryers have to have tags on them not only warning of the danger in blow drying your hair while taking a bubble bath, but also illustrating it for you! Why in the world, can't preggos get a disclaimer, too, for crying out loud??? Something that warns "This may not work out and here's what you can expect...." All I got was a supply of prenatal vitamins, a booklet on healthy eating while preggo, and some coupons for diapers. Some insider information would have been preferred.
Putting together scant info from the doctor and research online, I've learned this much:
According to the ultrasound, I suffered a spontaneous abortion. And it more than likely occurred around week 9, unbeknownst to me (and my doctor at my 12 week appointment, I might add). This is what I've since learned qualifies as a "missed miscarriage" - the end of a pregnancy that goes completely unnoticed because signs or symptoms are significantly delayed. My symptoms were nearly 2 months delayed. What is even more perplexing is the fact that I spent those 2 months still throwing up in the mornings and any time I went more than 4 hours without eating. Or when I brushed my teeth. Or when I smelled something foul. You get the idea. In addition to the barfing, I was growing (even bigger) boobs, seeing bright blue veins pop up throughout my torso, growing fur in places that were previously (and thankfully) bald (my husband and I both now have goatees), crying at any commercial that involved an animal, and the list goes on. For someone who has never been pregnant before, you would've been hardpressed to convince me that I wasn't with child up to the point of bleeding. The only sign of pregnancy which eluded me at that time was weight gain. Though my figure was shifting greatly, the numbers on the scale were not. I might have gained 1-2 pounds, but I could gain that just looking at a chocolate cheesecake! Big whoop.
Strangely enough in my case, despite that the fetus abruptly stopped developing, the gestational sac, placenta, yolk sac, etc. kept right on track preparing for a baby, which is probably the cause for the continued hormonal flow and pregnancy symptoms which deceived me.
After the negative ultrasound, we met with the doctor to discuss options. He said that I could pass things naturally or I could schedule a D&C suction (dilation and curettage named for the 2 steps in the procedure....first they dilate the cervix, then they scrape its' contents with a tool called a curette...something else I learned after the fact). The word "suction" alone scared the bejeezus out of me, but I was also too ignorant to fully understand the details of option A or option B, and too overwhelmed to ask for clarification. The entire conversation lasted no more than 5 minutes. I opted to go home and sleep on it/pray on it. Two days later, I called to schedule the D&C, but it would have to wait until the following week, when I could fit it into my work schedule and my husband would be off work to hold my nervous hand.
For 5 days following the ultrasound I cramped severely and bled just the same. In my naivete, I thought this was nothing more than the natural (and entire) process of miscarriage.
Boy, was I wrong.
On the 6th day, as I sat on the couch watching movies with my husband, the cramping intensified. He was the first to notice that the pain followed a pattern and began timing me. Sure enough, my cramps were 2 minutes apart. After 4 hours of timing them with little to no change in severity, we opted to go lie down and try to get some rest. That plan worked for all of 15 minutes. We had both just gotten comfortable enough in bed to stop tossing and turning when I bolted upright and jumped out of bed.
My water had broken. And even though I knew nothing "bout birthin' babies", I recognized this sensation instantly. I've pee'd on myself before in fits of laughter, and trust me, it's not the same. For once, my pea-sized bladder was totally innocent.
No one told me that miscarriage would be much like childbirth...not even my doctor. And why or how would I know any better? I've never done this before. Why on earth would you expect to have that happen at only 16 weeks? And for there to be so much amniotic fluid already? My husband and I both were in disbelief.
And the pain! Oh dear heavens.....my hat's off to any/every mother out there who labored with no pain meds. My poor mom delivered all 8 lbs. 8 oz. of me as I arrived in this world butt first and doubled over! With no pain meds. Nada. Zilch. The woman deserves a Nobel Peace Prize for not killing everyone near her in those moments.
Water broken and bed sheets soaked, I quickly ran to the shower with a husband on my heels. What followed was frightening, emotional and much bloodier than I would have imagined. Suffice it to say that I sat in the tub for another 2 hours bleeding, contracting, and pushing what I could out of me. And he never left my side.
The look in my husband's eyes was absolutely painful. It was the look of a helpless person, which was a new look for him. He's a phenomenal nurse and can multitask like no other, so he certainly isn't unaccustomed to blood and gore. If you're in a crisis, he's the man you want beside you because he maintains his cool and his focus the whole while. Years of working as an ER nurse, medevac flight nurse, and hospital supervisor can do that to a person.
That evening...or early morning, I should say, he ran circles around me running warm water over my back, rubbing my shoulders, holding my hair, changing out the trash can that I kept vomiting into, getting cool cloths for my forehead. At one point, he even lit a candle and put it on the tub beside me! I guess he thought it an appropriate time for mood lighting?! But in actuality, it was nothing more than the effort of a partner to do something - ANYthing - that might help. And his support in that moment has only made me love him infinitely more than I did before.
What I was most pleasantly surprised to learn during this time was that we both maintained our sense of humor. Not once did we "lose it" and snap on each other. Instead, we cracked a couple jokes. Sounds crazy, I know, but the saying that "laughter is the best medicine" couldn't be more truthful. And laughter would be the only medicine I got in those 8 hours of contracting.
Despite the fact that I'd managed to evacuate the majority of the contents of my uterus on my own, the bleeding didn't stop and the vomiting only worsened, so my 24/7 nurse carted me off to the ER. Once there (after driving through ridiculous fog), I was met with several probes "down there", more contractions, lots of needle sticks (they couldn't get an IV started on me because my veins kept blowing, more than likely due to the loss of blood and dehydration) and thankfully some pain medication. Luckily, the OBGYN doc on call was fantastic and squeezed me into the OR for a D&C only a few hours later. Every professional that I came into contact with that day was kind, understanding of our circumstances, and informative - I learned more on this occasion than I did during the 16 weeks of pregnancy before.
And then it was over. I got to come home that afternoon. My husband and I laid down together after being awake for 36 hours and stared at the ceiling. Neither of us had ever been through something like this. Neither of us knew what to do or what to say. What I couldn't understand was how something that was initially so difficult to grasp could simultaneously be so difficult to let go. But as we both laid there exhausted in every sense of the word, I knew one thing was certain: I wouldn't want to go through something like this with anyone else.
I have always prayed. I have always had daily conversations with God. But my prayer time has steadily increased during pregnancy. My repeated prayer from the moment I first learned I was expecting was for this pregnancy to enhance my family, rather than take away from it, and to also have a healthy child. So, if strengthening my marriage is the purpose that this brief pregnancy served, and a difficult life was spared, then I consider it an answered prayer. And I'm okay with that.
Or at least I will be. One day.
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