My Story, My Miscarriage

My story started on April 22nd. It was a Thursday morning and for the last 3 weeks I had been feeling so sick and emotional. I kept telling my husband, either this is the worst PMS ever, or i’m pregnant. Not believing that I puke be pregnant. I know they say, “you're most fertile the year after you give birth.” But I still didn’t believe it. Well that morning I dropped pee into my dollar tree pregnancy test and said, “if I really am pregnant again, please just let there be a line, even if it is the faintest line, I just need to know”. As I was watching the test I could see it. A super faint second line. I cried, gripped my belly and smiled so big. It actually happened. I have my son, Caleb who is 9 months old, it took almost 2 years to conceive him, so to be pregnant again so quickly was magical to me. I ordered a shirt for Caleb that said “I may be little but i’m going to be a big brother.” That’s how I told my husband, by showing him the new shirt I bought for him. We were both so excited, we wanted our kids close in age so this was perfect. I called my OB and they scheduled me an appointment according to my last period. I remember the 2-3 weeks leading up to that appointment, I had so much anxiety, peeing on tests daily just to watch the line get darker and darker. Finally that first appointment came, May 18th, we dropped Caleb off with my mom that morning and headed off to the OB. I remember laying in the ultrasound room, I was almost 9 weeks according to my last period. I was about 9 weeks when I had my first ultrasound with my son, I knew what to look for, I knew what it was supposed to look like. I could barely see anything. Just this little shrimp looking thing squeezed so far in the corner of the sac. The tech did the best she could and said baby was about 6-7 weeks. But there was a heartbeat. I couldn’t see it, but she measured it at 139. She said come back in two weeks and we’ll do this again, your cycle was likely just off. I had such a pit in my stomach leaving that day. I cried when I got back to my moms house because I knew that something was wrong. My mom, my sisters, everyone who knew I was pregnant were telling me that it was fine. My sister even had the same thing happen with her pregnancy with my niece. It helped some, but again that pit was still there. Those two weeks felt like 2 years. The morning of the second appointment on June 2nd, I was surprisingly calm and excited. I dropped my son off with my mom, my husband was meeting me at the OB office. I kissed him and said “mommy’s gonna go see your baby brother or sister, love you!” We got to the office and still I was feeling good. I was still sick everyday, feeling pregnant, there was a heartbeat last time, nothing could be wrong right? I got back on the table and it was a different tech, she said it was her first day at this office and using this machine. It immediately put me on edge. She started the ultrasound and I immediately saw that baby was bigger. I felt so much relief. Someone came in to help her make sure she was doing everything right, that person was guiding her and then left. She did all sorts of pictures, my ovaries, my cervix, etc. Finally she got to my baby, I saw how much bigger they looked, but something didn’t seem right. She kept scanning and I saw the little dot on the screen that measures the heartbeat. She put that little dot in like 6 different places. She didn’t see it and she couldn’t find it. Again my second pregnancy, I knew what to look for, and I couldn’t see it either. I remember her words, “I can’t seem to find everything that I need so I’m going to go over this with the doctor.” After she left I looked at my husband with tears in my eyes and said, “there’s no heartbeat.” The put us in an exam room across the hall. I was shaking, just praying that it was going to be my OB, who I’ve seen since I was 16, that walked in. Thankfully it was him. He told us, “I’m sorry to have to deliver this news, but there’s no heartbeat.” I was just on a continuous flow of tears at that point and he was talking to my husband because he knew I was barely listening. He said that baby was measuring 8 weeks and 3 days, I was 8 weeks and 5 days at the appointment. That sent my brain into a spiral. Within the last few days? How? Why? My brain asking questions that I know would never be answered. Suddenly my OB looked at me, I said almost instinctually which was weird, “so what are my options?” At that point he explained the medication option or the D&C surgery option. I asked him what he recommended. He said he would do the surgery because sometimes the medication doesn’t fully work and surgery is needed anyway. I said “okay, and when does this need to be done?” He said within a week. We scheduled it for Saturday June 5th. I didn’t think about if we had any plans, which we did. I just wanted it done. I went back to my moms house that morning, my husband followed me there and then went home. He works overnights and needed to get home to sleep. As for me I needed my mom. I walked in, rounded the corner and she said to my Caleb “mommy’s back!” I looked at her with tears in my eyes, shook my head no, and hit the floor. She held me for what felt like forever. Caleb came crawling over and just snuggled into me. He knew his Mama wasn’t okay. The next 4 days were a blur of crying, aching and anger. For 4 days, I walked around knowing that I was carrying my baby, but that they were dead. I think that was the hardest part. The Friday before the surgery I was a mess, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t take care of my son. I was filled with fear. That Saturday morning my mom came over to take care of my son while we were at the hospital she also took Caleb to the party we planned on attending that day. When we got to the hospital I felt so conflicted, this hospital was associated with the best day of my life, when I had my son. Now it was tainted with the memory of physically losing my baby. During the check in process, the woman gave my husband my tracking number, so he knew what was going on. I looked at her and said “he can’t be back there with me?!?” She told me no and I immediately freaked out. The tears were flowing and I couldn’t even speak. I just kept shaking my head no. Finally I said, “I can’t do this without him, PLEASE!” She came around grabbed my hand and said let me go see what I can do. She came back 10 minutes later and said “the nurses will let him in until you go back, but then he has to leave and won’t see you until you’re discharged.” I was so thankful, I didn’t have to sit in that room alone for 3 hours before my surgery. I feel grateful for the experience I had that day. The nurses all came in and said “I’m so sorry that you’re here for this reason.” Some of the nurses even held my hand and talked to me about their loss experience. I was so thankful for their kindness. As I was being wheeled back for the actual surgery the one nurse saw me starting to break down again and she grabbed my hand, and saw my “warrior” tattoo on my wrist. She said “oh honey, remember this, you are a warrior.” I squeezed her hand and they gave me an anti anxiety medication that half knocked me out. I remember was being wheeled into the room, I closed my eyes because I didn’t even want to see anything. The last thing was them saying, “okay, we’re gonna a move you to this table and move you down.” I felt them do that and then nothing. I woke up laying back in the bed but in a line of other beds with other people waking up. I didn’t want to wake up. I heard everything around me but didn’t want to open my eyes. The nurses knew though. They came over to get me knowing I was awake. I was then wheeled into a different little room made by curtains. They immediately got me out of bed and into a chair. When I saw the blood on the pad on the bed I lost it. My baby was gone, for good. I wasn’t carrying them with me anymore, and that hurt so bad. They let me sit there for 15 minutes then got me up, took me to the bathroom to let me pee and get dressed. After that they took me back, gave me discharge papers and wheeled me out to my husband. The last time that happened I had a car seat in my arms, this time they were empty. I was so groggy from the anesthesia that I could barely keep my eyes open. My husband gave my his hat to cover my eyes in the car. We stopped for subway since I hadn’t eaten since 11pm the night before. I took maybe 3 bites in the car and drank my water. When we got home I just wanted to sleep. Thankfully my mom had my son with her at the birthday party so the house was quiet. I laid on the couch but immediately felt sick. I got up, made it to the kitchen sink and vomited the apple juice from the hospital. After that I couldn’t even bear anything more. I slept for what felt like days but was only a few hours. I was told no lifting and take it as easy as possible for the next 2-3 days. I’m a mom, that’s basically impossible. While my husband did help, he doesn’t know our routines and our son knows that. So anything he did, our son fought it because it wasn’t mama. So I had to do things anyway. Thankfully my doctor was able to write my 3 weeks of disability off of work. That Monday I had to drop off paperwork to his office. Just my luck there were 3 pregnant women that I saw which just made me cry harder for the 10 minutes I was in there. The next few weeks were full of such strong pain, physically too but mostly emotionally. I kept thinking that it would get easier. But the breakdowns still happen, the nightmares are still happening every night. I can barely look at myself in the mirror, most days I don’t. This body that felt powerful and beautiful and strong after my son now feels broken, wounded and ugly. It’s only when I am alone, fully alone I can let go, break down and let it all out. But in front of my son, my husband, my family, my in laws, I have to put on this front that i’m surviving. But in reality, I feel like i’m dying inside. How does someone live when a part of their soul died? It’s a messed up reality, one I didn’t want, one I didn’t see coming. How could I have known? I had a healthy pregnancy and baby the first time. Less than a year ago! But this is now my reality, living with part of my heart and soul in heaven. Learning how to live with permanent heartbreak. Learning how to survive, day by day without my baby. But I’ve found ways to carry them with me. We named our baby Angel, since we didn’t know the gender it was the only thing that felt right. I bought a ring with tiny feet and angel wings that I wear with my wedding rings. I just got a tattoo of angel wings. All to carry my Angel with me. They may be in heaven, but they will always be a part of me; never forgotten, always loved, for eternity. One day I’ll get to meet my Angel, they will be waiting for me. But until then, I like to think they are watching over us, alongside us as we navigate this new life. I love you my Angel, eternally.