Why are so many people afraid to talk about pregnancy loss if it happens to approximately ONE in FOUR pregnancies? Why can we talk about breaking our legs, death of a family member, ending a relationship and all our other inner most problems but we can't talk about miscarriage? When speaking with a friend that has suffered two losses she told me that she "felt alone". Of course her husband was there for her, but she still felt alone. If ONE in FOUR women suffer this loss, why are we feeling alone? We need to speak more about it.
On August 27th, 2013 I took a pregnancy test, I got a blazing positive. When I got my daughter, Eve, out of bed, I gave her the test to hand to her daddy, it was such a happy moment. I told some people right away, knowing it was early and things may go wrong. Here's the thing though, if things go wrong, why is it bad to have family and friends there for me? People frown on telling too early just in case the baby is lost but don't realize that people need support after trauma. I knew I could share my joy with people because they would also share my sorrow if something went wrong.
The next few weeks were pretty normal, I had nausea, bloating and some tired days but it was less than when I was pregnant with Eve. I had days where I didn't feel like things were right, but I pushed those thoughts out of my head. I can say now that I believe something inside me knew that this pregnancy wasn't going to end in late April with a healthy baby.
Why are so many people afraid to talk about pregnancy loss if it happens to approximately ONE in FOUR pregnancies?
On Saturday, October 5th, I had some red spotting and decided to go to the hospital that evening. Unfortunately, small town hospitals don't typically have ultrasound techs on weekends, so I had my blood checked and they said levels were normal for 10 weeks pregnant. I was given papers that said I would need to do a follow up blood draw and ultrasound on Monday or Tuesday. I had red spotting all day Sunday and knew I wasn't waiting till Tuesday to have the ultrasound.
On Monday October 7th I went to the hospital at 11:00 a.m., it was busy but I was staying there until I got my answers. I finally had an ultrasound at 3:30 p.m. and got to see a screen with no heartbeat, I actually couldn't see the baby at all. Medical protocol meant the ultrasound tech couldn't tell me anything, but I knew what I saw. I headed back to the ER to fall back into line to wait for my results.
At around 5:15 p.m. I got the results verifying that our baby had passed away. I cried a little, learned a little and asked a lot of questions. I definitely remember all of what I was told or all of what I asked but I do remember feeling lost, numb and not knowing what to feel. Shortly after that, the OB came to see me, he was a caring, soft spoken man, he made me feel comfortable. He told me I had three options but he wanted me to go home and work a little on the emotional aspect instead of worrying about making the medical decision. He gave me his card, told me to call him and welcomed me to come see him to talk further about the options, which are:
1. Miscarry naturally.
2. Insert pills that help cause contractions and force the miscarriage to happen faster.
3. D&C surgery which is basically vacuuming everything out, this involves being put under.
The next morning I started bleeding heavier, so I knew it was going to happen on its own. It was a pretty uneventful day, I just laid low and spent time with my daughter. My husband was at work but was reachable and his bosses knew the situation, so if I called, he could come running.
On Wednesday, October 9th, 2013 the bleeding got heavier. My husband came home for a shower after his morning PT, I asked if he could just stay. Everything seemed to be going really well, I had minimal cramping and was bleeding about as heavy as I expected.
I had a life growing inside me that is no longer, a life that didn't get to meet his or her parents or big sister. This happens to so many women, EVERY SINGLE DAY and now it happened to me, to us, to our family, and I want to share, I have the right to share.
I'm pretty sure I passed the baby at 3:30 p.m., I said goodbye and that's when things went bad. I was starting to bleed very heavily and was passing clots about the size of my fist. We decided to make the drive to the ER. We got to the hospital at around 6:30 p.m. and by 9:00 p.m. I was on my way up to the OR for an emergency D&C. The nurses were amazing, the doctor was amazing, the surgery was quick and I was awake and into recovery by 10:00 p.m. Who knew it could be so quick and painless. By midnight I was ready to go home, no more pregnancy, no more baby, just the three of us again.
As I type this I feel some anger, some sadness but no "why me", I can't ask that question, it happened and the "why" won't ever be answered. I had a life growing inside me that is no longer, a life that didn't get to meet his or her parents or big sister. This happens to so many women, EVERY SINGLE DAY and now it happened to me, to us, to our family, and I want to share, I have the right to share.
It's hard losing a baby that you never saw, felt, kissed or hugged. I know our little baby felt me breathing, my heartbeat and even heard my tummy growling but most importantly, I know that he or she felt our love.
If you have suffered a loss, please know that you are not alone and it is OK to speak up and speak out.