The ER doctor poked his head back in the room. "When was your last miscarriage, Miss?", he questioned. I had to pause and do some math in my head, something I'm not awesome at, "Uhmmm...April...April 2008, I guess it was." "So exactly six years ago then?" I confirmed this to be true, and like that I was left alone with my thoughts, again.
I had been blankly starting at the walls, running through every possible senerio Dr. Google thought it could be before this exchange. I readjusted in my chair for the thousandth time, and mentally noted I was now biting my nails. "Wow. It's been six years. That seems impossible. Obviously, it's not." It had been a long time since I'd actually felt or thought about the experience until that moment.
I started comparing the two situations. I should have been eight weeks last time. I didn't get a positive test until six weeks, which was as far as the baby grew. I hadn't saw or heard the heartbeat. Oh, and I had been spotting through out and before the pregnancy. That morning I remember my blood pressure was unusually low, for me even. They had to check it three times before they'd believe it. Not a single thing about it remotely reflected my current predicament, even the spotting was different.
I texted the few people who knew I was there to let them know I had saw the doctor and had blood work drawn. I reassured Bobby I was positive it would be a huge waste of time for him to leave work over nothing. The nurse came in with a sheet and said they'd be in as soon as my last lab processed to check me.
Apparently, my blood was trying to coagulate on them, so I sat gazing down at my paper thin sheet longer than expected. I kept telling myself I wasn't nervous. I knew this wasn't true. My blood pressure had been textbook perfect that morning, which to me was a sure sign I must really be freaking out.
At this point the doctor and nurse knew my levels were nearly half what they should be. "Are you sure on your dates?", he asked as they entered. "I would be very surprised if they were wrong. I've had two ultrasounds dating within two days of that cycle.", I replied puzzled. He finished up and gave me some confusing news. The nurse seemed equally confused. I didn't ask him to elaborate. I didn't want to know.
I began downing water in preparation for an ultrasound. As I texted Bobby to tell him what was next my phone died. I wasn't sure whether or not he would get it.
I was fumbling for my charger as the ultrasound lady popped in. She seemed equally as nice as everyone else, which was reassuring. We walked through the halls and all I could think was "This is it".
We sat in silence a few minutes as I stared at the screen. I'm not an expert, though I've had a my fair share of ultrasounds. I searched the screen for a flickering in a chest. "Well you aren't an expert", I thought as it proved fruitless. I searched for any possible tiny wiggle. Anything. Last time the baby had been bouncing all over the place. I realized there wasn't a single thing happening on the screen. I became aware of the lump growing in my throat, my heart pounding out of my chest, the fact I had been holding my breath for awhile now. I held it a few seconds longer . As I exhaled that first breath, the tears exploded out of my eyes, as I blurted, "Do you see the heartbeat?". I knew what her answer would be.
She was so kind and gentle to my broken heart as she explained the baby had stopped growing at 11 weeks, though it may have had a heartbeat a few weeks after that. I had saw the baby at 6 and 9 weeks. I had heard it's racing heart at 13 weeks, so somewhere around my last doctors appointment is when I had lost the pregnancy.
I tried to swallow my tears and sadness as we made our way back to my room. I clutched the picture she had printed for me, folded in half so I couldn't see it. I wasn't doing very well hiding my condition. I walked through the oncology waiting room, as I glanced their way, I could see them watching me. I wondered who they were there for, and how they were.
While I was alone in my ER room I did alright. I focused on my breathing while chanting "Everything is going to be okay." I'd of course stumble over these words, as I felt the lump in my throat returning. I remembered my phone was dead. "I can't do it now. Not here. I'll wait until I get to the car. I'll charge my phone and tell him there. I'll just hold it together until they release me. Then I will sit and just cry however long I want."
My nurse entered carrying a patient gown and a blanket. She was great and was very generous with her sympathy as she checked on me. "Your doctor will be in to talk to you soon. If you are okay with it we will keep you and perform a procedure called a D&C". I realized I wasn't going to my car anytime soon.
I drug my charger out of my purse, plugged it into the wall, and changed into the gown. The ER doctor came by to give me his condolences. He explained my doctor, Dr. H., was in surgery, but he'd be there soon. He told me he was certain I'd be well taken care of. I quickly realized that it was Tuesday, the day of the week my c-section would have been scheduled. I broke down . The doctor asked "Are you okay?". I shook my head yes, unable to choke up any words, as tears poured off my face. He continued, "My, what a silly question to have asked. Of course you aren't, but that's okay too". Some how this made me feel better.
I was pretty annoyed to discover my phone wasn't charging through my chat with the doctor. I pulled the charger in and out of the wall a few times. Nothing. I bent the cord just so around the phone. That seemed to do the trick. I was starting to panick that I wouldn't get a hold of Bobby in time for him to make it from work to the hospital.
Just as my phone made it's comeback it was time to draw more blood and get an IV. I sent Bobby a quick text. I didn't think I could say the words out loud yet. "You need to head this way now. I'll call you soon. Love you". I felt pretty guilty I wasn't strong enough to call and actually tell him. I just didn't want to do it anymore without him there with me. I needed him to be on his way.
I called when I was alone again. I cannot remember exactly how it went, but I know I refused to say the "m word". It was hard for both of us. I didn't want him to feel guilty for not coming with me. It was okay that he didn't. Earlier I didn't want to admit there was a chance of needing him there. It's hard to say, but it was probably easier not seeing his face, this time around, when he heard the baby was gone. I just remember putting the burden on my own shoulders last time. It's hard to see pain in those you love when you wonder if you could have done something differently.
I thought of the girls why I waited. How excited they were. All their kisses, hugs, "good mornin', baby. I love you", "good nite, baby. Sweet dreams. Can't wait to see you". I knew telling them would be the hardest. I wondered if my best friend, K, was good to continue watching the girls. I thought of her baby due soon. I wasn't sure how it would be to see her. I didn't want her to feel guilty. It wasn't her fault.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Dr. H walked in with a look that screamed "I'm sorry". I had realized by this point I had a hard time keeping myself together with other people in the room, when the point of conversation was our loss or what was next. I also realized something else sort of therapeutic nothing seemed cold and mechanical. Everyone was very understanding and kept telling me "Hey, it's okay not to be okay".
I mentioned I put a lot of blame on myself the last time. I felt a flood of relief as I heard the words "This is not your fault. There is nothing you could have done. There is nothing Bobby could have done. There is nothing anyone did to cause this, so please don't feel that way". Somehow this time I believed it. We talked about the options. I knew I didn't want to do it the same way I did last time. I recanted taking what had been described to me as "the abortion pill" twice, leaving me with nothing more than uterus contractions and a still occupied uterus. How emotionally unstable it made me to wake up every morning from late April until June knowing I wasn't pregnant, but I was still carrying my child, how I would wonder if this would be the day, or if I'd be in the middle of therapy with someone and it happen out of no where. I told him I thought it would be good for both Bobby and I to do the D&C that day. How I didn't think I could get away with drowning the situation in chain smoking and closet drinking until the day came on its own. I talked about how an interaction in recent years before that earlier miscarriage that had left me afraid the first time I wouldn't be able to have kids. I was able to talk about how grateful I am for my three wonderful daughters. How my LMP for my twin pregnancy was twenty days after my miscarriage's due date. I got the sense that my doctor really cares for his patients and their situations. He reassured me he believed we could still have a following successful pregnancy, that he would remember this day when Bobby and I were holding a newborn down the road. It was very helpful and all my crazy fears became fleeting.
Bobby made it to the hospital. I don't know that I've ever been more calmed by his presence. Just him being there gave me the sense everything would be okay. We would be okay. He is my rock, which is so cliche, but it's just with him around I know he will figure out a way to say or do the right thing to bring me back to where I need to be. He can read when I need to cry, talk, or a good laugh. He is a problem solver by default after all. I went through every thing that had happened and been said. I think somehow we both were able to find some peace by that point of the day.
We were discharged from the ER and admitted to outpatient. The room felt more comfortable. We watched Chopped
and started notifying some family. I was starting to get nervous and became a mix of super sarcastic, awkward, and inappropriate, which may be my default setting. I started focusing on any and everything but the task at hand.
Bob and Terry came to the hospital. I was kind of afraid to see other people. You know when this type of thing happens to you that it automatically sucks for you and your spouse, but there is also a small group of other people it sucks for too. I think grandparents fall into that category. All of our parents have been great both times. It just hurts to know they were looking forward to it with us and then it all disappearing so quickly. I just hate that feeling that you've indirectly let everybody down, though none of them would ever make us feel that way. They were awesome and I was nervous over nothing.
I finally went back to the OR waiting area. The surgery nurse commented, "Your hands are ice cold". I got a big smile on my face, that felt out of place as I thought of all the patients who had ever told me "You know what they say? Cold hands. Warm heart.". I talked with the anesthesiologist. He went through my medical and surgery histories, possible side effects. He explained it would take 15-30 minutes, I would be out, and they would put a breathing tube down my throat, which may irritate it. I talked with my doctor one more time, and they wheeled me into the room to get me on the table. The last thing I remember is the anesthesiologist telling me I was about to feel a little out of it and they were securing my arms down.
"Sasha, what pharmacy do you use?", I heard the nurse saying. I tried to answer, because I could hear her, but I couldn't manage it. She asked a few more times before I could open my eyes and realize I was in recovery and on my side facing opposite from her. I kind of turned toward her and gave an awfully long answer to a simple question. Basically I chronicalled three different ones I've used and told her it was up to her, by the power of elimination she got me to give her a concrete answer. I then asked her to remind me later which I decided on. It was odd. My mind was telling me "you are crazy just give her an answer" but my mouth was like "I am a crazy person.". Somehow I apologized for being bad at drugs and admitted that children's Tylenol cold medicine has the power to make me a loopy mess. She laughed and said, "You must be really sensitive to this stuff then". And like that I closed my eyes and drifted back off a few more minutes. I could hear her asking how I felt and heard her say I had lost a lot of blood, but only a bit more than expected. I came back to. "I feel like I'm getting one helluva middle school period to answer your question". She asked my pain level. I said the first number that came to my head, but I don't remember which one that was.
I really don't remember the trip back to the room. I was more alert once I got there, I think. I was happy to see Bobby and Terry and very hungry. It was too late for Wong's apparently. I settled for Long John Silver's. Oh, and a liquid diet tray to please my nurse. I thought "If I eat enough for him to chart he will let me eat real food". I despise everything on those stupid trays. Apple juice is too sweet for my taste. Chicken broth is a soup starter. Jello reminds me of being sick. I was surprised how quickly the cramps started to subside. I wanted the pain meds, though, in case this break was temporary . It was finally time to be released. I stood up. It was immediately apparent just how out of it I may be. Bobby could tell. I now had to change back into my clothes. I made it to the bathroom. I inappropriately made jokes about it being a like something out of a horror movie in there, though, I can't be certain if I this was a mental conversation or if I was really speaking words. I dressed, and cleaned up my mess. I think that was the former CNA in me at work. I may have told the nurse the bathroom would need bleached, which is weird, I know every room is scrubbed down before the next patient comes. It is all sort of jumbled in my head. I knew what was going on, but I just wasn't even sure how to act about everything. I was just ready to be home. I made Bobby take me to the quick stop down the road. I was convinced I needed water and M&M's. Bobby told me a few days ago I wore my hair net all the way home, including into the store. Yea. That sounds about right.
It was probably 11 by the time we got home. What I has thought would be a quick trip to the ER to be told I was an overly nervous pregnant woman proved to be an eleven hour ordeal.
The girls were still up. They wanted to see us, and we wanted to see them. I kissed and hugged them so tight. They told us they missed us all day. They wanted to know what took us so long, and how their daddy and I had got to one another, and where our car was. They told the baby they loved it and missed it, that it was the best baby in the world. Bobby, K, and I all stopped in our tracks. We weren't ready, not now. We told them what sweet good big sisters they were.
I was so at ease seeing K. She has been one of my closest friends almost my whole life. I was able to chat with her a few minutes before she left. I have felt that guilt before. The one that leaves you thinking how will she feel around me? Will seeing me or my baby just make her sad? Why her not me? I would never want her to feel that way around me. I just wanted to clear the air. I love her, and I will love Baby K. just as much as I do her big sister. This cannot take away my happiness for her. I think it was good for both of us just to meet this head on.
We wound up spending some family time, and staying up way to late. We were just extra grateful that night to have some time with our girls and each other. We even let them all sleep in bed with us. I laid my head on my pillow. It soon became clear I had a raging headache, and I was about as physically and emotionally exhausted as I had been for years.
The next morning I woke up. I wanted to feel different than I had the morning before, but I felt almost the exact same. I didn't have a single remaining cramp. The only evidence that yesterday had even happened was a bruise on the crook of my arm where my IV had been, and a deep soreness in the other, where they had drawn blood. My throat felt more like I had spent the prior evening sitting in a bar surrounded by second hand smoke while chain smoking myself, than what I had imagined the tube irritation would feel like. I convinced myself the lack of cramps was because I hadn't got up and moving. I took my prescribed meds to be safe.
Bobby was able to take the day off and my mom was heading our way. I started notifying everyone I thought should know as the girls and Bobby "worked" in the shop.
My phone decided to officially die on me about half way through. All I could think was " at least I won't have to see all the reminders I made". The ones for every month milestone I made it to. The one for my upcoming doctor's appointment. The one on Sept. 16, the day my c-section was planned for. September 21st my due date.
We ate brunch together as a family. We soaked in our three lovely girls. We decided to wait a few days to beak the news to them. They talked to the baby often, kissing my stomach, their excitement shining on their faces.
My mom arrived. Bobby ran to town to get me a new phone. Shortly after my mom offered to take the girls to the park. I laid back in the chair completely motionless. My eyes closed trying to rest. It was probably a mix of emotions, lack of sleep, and the effects of the meds, but I drifted from one nightmare to another. I could feel the room spinning from behind the darkness of my eyes. I hopped up with urgency. I was going to be sick. I cried as I cleaned up. Feeling like hell never felt more right.
A few days passed. We sat on the couch, all of us, as a family. How do you break news that will be so very hard for your kids to understand? We did our best. Our big girls got a look of terrified confusion on their faces. They grabbed the nearest pillow to bury their faces in. Over their sobs Brin hollered, "Guys! Guys! Hush! Just shhhhhhhh!". She had no clue. The big girls took it hard, as expected. One confessing she was worried we would never have another baby. She asked if their doctor, whom they adore, told me we could. "No, my doctor isn't Dr J. it's Dr. H.", I explained. "If Dr J. didn't say it it's not true!", she insisted. They were comforted by the thought the "angel baby" would help pick us a rainbow baby when the time comes.
Yesterday would have been our 20 week ultrasound. Today marks a month. A month ago I had no clue what that day would bring, but I was hopeful.
Today I still have no idea what is in store for us, but I remain hopeful and am filled with joy. I'm upset, of course. I just know how blessed I am to have two little girls I very likely wouldn't have had without walking this path before. Sometimes life just blows, and doesn't go as expected, but I still have so much to be thankful for. I have my sweet babies, and my wonderful husband, who can bring a smile to my face no matter the circumstances. We both have amazing families whom have been a great source of support. Parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, and cousins have all offered us love. We have great friends who have provided kindness and understanding. A lovely group of women who have surrounded us in prayer. I can not even to begin to express how exceptional all of the hospitals staff treated me. I will always remember how they made that day a little better. Everyone's words have meant a tremendous amount to us. They will not be forgotten. I am very blessed by the people I have in my life.
I do have an abundance more I could say. I'm just not confident enough in my ability to convert my feelings into words in a way which would satisfy me, or would clearly articulate what I am feeling. I just wanted to write a bit about it, because I know it may seem I've been disconnected from it. We have found peace, and are in a good place. We are looking forward to whatever is in store for us.
I wasn't sure whether I'd actually post this or not. I have decided to, I guess, because I enjoy reading about other people's experiences, good and bad, and this is one of mine.
The title is a Bible verse my grandparents sent to me years ago, when I needed it most. It has been on display in my room since. I always find great comfort in this verse, and in knowing my grandparents pray every morning for the Lord to bless and keep all of us kids.
