I had a hard time deciding if I was going to post about this or if I should delete all of my pregnancy blogs and pretend it never happened. I decided that it's important for me to remember the details because no one else is going to remember for me in case I need to down the line. I feel like I can actually type it out now and not cry the "ugly cry". Only as early as yesterday, I was not at this point.
Thursday, I had a routine doctor appointment. I was
sooo excited but definitely a little nervous
cause I hadn't been in a month. Steve came with me to the appointment and when we got back to the exam room, the nurse practitioner that I had seen in the past informed me that this was going to be my "long" appointment. Man, was it ever. And not in a good way. She told me that we were going to go through all of Steve and my family history, do the standard pap smear (fun!) and then move on to the Doppler to listen to the baby's heartbeat. We went through everything and then she performed the pap smear. I asked her about my blood tests and the cheek swab (to check for spine
ebifida) because no one had contacted me to tell me anything and she said that the doctor would inform me about those results but typically if I don't hear anything, "no news is good news and it says 'normal'". So, she grabbed the ancient looking
Doppler machine and informed me that sometimes it is difficult to find the heartbeat with me still being pretty early on in the pregnancy so not to worry unless she told me to. I had read about this as well so I was not worried.
So, she proceeded to move around the wand all over my stomach area and couldn't locate the heartbeat. She said, "Don't worry yet, if I can't find it with this then we'll grab the sonogram machine". After trying to locate the heartbeat for about 5 full minutes, she gave up and went for the sonogram machine. She tried to locate the baby externally and then internally and told me that if she STILL couldn't find it, not to worry and that she'd grab a doctor. So, she still couldn't find the baby with the external wand or the internal one and left the room to get an actual doctor. By this point, I was kind of worried but still hopeful. I told Steve that I had a horrible dream about something being wrong at this appointment just the night before which was so ironic considering how everything panned out.
The doctor came into the room and immediately asked if I had any cramping or bleeding recently. I hadn't and told her just that. The fact that she asked me this really set me off and I started to really panic. I was especially nervous since she couldn't even find the actual baby and not just the heartbeat. I was supposed to be almost 12 weeks at this point and I figured finding a baby at that gestational age should not be difficult. I don't think that by this point Steve had any clue what was going on. I did. So, the doctor went straight for the internal sonogram wand and looked around for a second. She found the baby and said, "Well there it is but now I'm worried." I halfway sat up so I could see the screen that was not facing me and asked Why. I don't know why I asked, I knew the answer. She pointed to the screen and showed me where the baby was. Once I saw where it was my fears were confirmed. The baby was no where near the size of a 12 week old baby. I knew this and didn't want to believe it but she confirmed it for me. She continued to look for the heartbeat and asked me if the other doctor I had seen at 7 weeks had a hard time locating it. I told her that he found it pretty quickly and said it may have taken him a minute. I don't know why I said that. It didn't take him long at all. I just was still hoping that this wasn't true. So, she pointed to where we should be seeing the flash of the heartbeat that I had seen at 7 weeks and there was nothing and she said the dreaded words, "I'm sorry". It was so sad. I felt horrible for myself, for them having to tell me, for Steve not knowing what to do, for the baby that I couldn't support it in my body for some reason, for everything.
It was probably the absolute worst moment in my life.
I absolutely lost it. They handed my
kleenex. I think I had an actual million thoughts going through my mind. I just had surgery last year to fix scarring in my uterus, does this mean I have to have a d&c and it will mess up the scarring? How did I not know? Why didn't I have any symptoms...AT ALL?? How am I going to even think about
un-telling everyone we have told? How am I going to go back to work and keep it together? Why me when I did everything right and everything by the book? How could I have been so stupid to tell people before the standard 12 weeks when you are considered in the "safe" zone?
The doctor informed me that this was something that happened that had nothing to do with anything I did. How does she know that? What makes her so sure? Is this going to happen again? Will I ever be able to retain a full pregnancy and have a healthy baby? Is this cause I have had mean thoughts in my head randomly about other people that I don't like and God is getting me back?
It was hard for me to fathom that my baby just dies and nothing I did caused it. I still don't know if I fully believe that or if they just tell you that to make you feel better.
Anyway, I think the next words out of my mouth were, "What do I do next?" and the doctor explained. She said that she would suggest that I have a d&c since my uterus wasn't showing any signs of getting rid of the fetus yet at that point and it was only measuring at 8 weeks 5 days so it had stopped growing at least 2 weeks earlier, maybe more. She was scared if I waited too long for it to happen naturally, I was risking infection which puts me at a risk for scarring and even though a d&c puts you at risk for scarring, the risk isn't as great as it is with an infection. Everything else that happened in that room was a big blur to me. I couldn't and didn't stop crying until way later in the day. I felt like I
was in a dream, like I was a zombie or going through some twilight period where things didn't seem real. It's amazing how life really gets put in
perspective when something like this happens and I truly honestly didn't care about certain things. For once, it wasn't a question of whether I actually go into work. Usually, I panic about calling in sick or what my boss is going to think. I couldn't have cared less if I was fired (which obviously I knew I wasn't but if for some chance I was, it wouldn't have mattered an ounce to me). I didn't care about anyone
else's trivial problems. Mine were bigger....to me at least. But, I did put my problem in perspective with other things. I actually did consider myself lucky in some ways. The doctor told me that this could have meant that something was wrong with the baby and it was nature's way of "taking care of i naturally". I was thankful that if that were the case then I was lucky. I was also thankful that I didn't go to full term and then something horrible happen like it does to so many other people, like a stillborn. I don't know if I could handle that. I was thankful for Steve. So, many other men would not have cared an ounce as much as he did for me throughout this process and I can't thank him enough. I think I have the best husband in the world hands down and I am not just saying that.
The doctor told me that I could have the d&c the next day (Friday) and it would be at a hospital and she would be the one performing it. I was happy about that since she knew my history of scarring, she seemed to be a
competent doctor and I wanted to get it
over with as soon as possible. I would've done it that day if I
could. Why people would want a dead fetus to sit in them for any longer than they had to is beyond me. I needed this whole process over so I could HEAL mentally and physically.
So, I went home and cried, and cried, and answered the phone for family and cried more and finally went to bed. Friday came and I was like a different person. I could force a smile. I wasn't crying nearly as much. And, I was ready. I was in and out and given my prescriptions and sent home. My mom came up and met us at the hospital too which was nice. I had two friendly faces instead of just one.
I went home from the hospital and talked to more people like my boss and her boss and told them too tell whoever they wanted to cause I certainly didn't want to face actual people at work. Thankfully, my boss had just gone through this in February so she of anyone could relate. She had signs though. I didn't. I still don't understand why I didn't have symptoms or anything. Not even a feeling of possibly something was wrong.
Saturday, I was even better. I could actually have a drink with my friends and talk about it without crying. I stayed up late and felt like an
inkling of my old self before I was pregnant. It had been awhile. Sunday, I didn't feel great from the drinks and Steve and I laid low. We ended up seeing a movie, The Hangover, that night and I felt some slight cramps before we went in to the movie so I took a pain killer to be safe. Sunday night was like a nightmare. I woke up in the middle of the night with chills, and aches and pains and a fever of almost 103. I also started bleeding which had stopped almost immediately after the surgery. I woke up on Monday, called in to work and called the doctor. I talked to a nurse who said that they would switch my antibiotic and to call them the next day if the fever hadn't gone down. I was MISERABLE all day. And, I started having huge clots of blood coming out of me. I mean HUGE! It was disgusting and I was concerned. Steve was also worried and was trying to give me advice on what to do and take care of me in any way he could. Nothing could help the pain that I was having though. Not even the
Vicodin I was prescribed. Monday night was similar but better because my fever stayed down and I didn't have the chills and all that. I still had clots though.
I woke up feeling better so I went to work on Tuesday. Tuesday was a good day as far as pain and clots which had seemed to taper off. Tuesday was not a good mental day and I barely made it through the day with people coming in my office and asking how I was. I am the type of person where if something bad happens to me, DO NOT ask me how I am unless you want me to start crying. I cried all morning whenever I had to talk to someone. It was embarrassing but I knew it was something I had to do to get over the initial shock of being back at work after this disaster. I woke up Tuesday night at 4:30am with horrible cramping and thought I was dying again.
That brings us to today. I woke up today and came to work again and have felt okay so far...mentally and physically. I am going to try Advil PM instead of
Vicodin to see if that will help me at least sleep through the night. If it does, then it is a miracle. If not, then I don't know what I'm going to do to get some actual sleep. And, Steve too since he is waking up every time I am up and wincing and crying and rolling around in pain. Poor Steve. And, poor me. This is something I would only wish on my worst enemy.
I guess it was about time that so
mething bad happen to me. I haven't really ever had anything too emotionally painful for me to go through. Steve's mother died and grandmother died and it was hard but I have to say that this takes the cake on that for me. As mean as that may sound, it does. I don't know how people go through multiple miscarriages only to find out that they can never become pregnant. Hopefully, that will not be my case. I can only hope and pray though. And, time is only going to tell.
So, that is my story and I think it's important for me not to forget it. It is now unfortunately part of my history and hopefully one day it won't be nearly as painful to re-hash as it is today.
