That Thursday, August 5th, we showed up to the hospital at 1:30 p.m. as directed, and went into the room. The technician didn’t speak (they aren’t allowed to tell us anything), and when she was finished she told me to get dressed and that she would be right back. She was gone for 20 terrifying minutes. The entire time, I kept telling my husband that I knew something was wrong – it was taking too long. He tried to reassure me that maybe she was just printing pictures or having the radiologist look over it. A timid knock sounded at the door and the technician appeared. She said, “I have your doctor’s office on the phone.” I knew. My heart dropped and the tears started. When I got on the phone, it was my doctor’s nurse. She stated, “They aren’t allowed to give you any results there, why don’t you come on into the office and we’ll talk?” Inconsolable, my husband and I left the hospital and made the short drive to the doctor’s office.
When we were brought back, the nurse told us that they were no longer able to find the heartbeat. We had lost our precious baby. Our hearts breaking, we were given all the options that were available to us to determine how to expel the fetus. We were promised that my doctor (who was in a surgery) would call me the next morning to answer any questions that we might have.
That night I made several heart wrenching calls, the words never getting any easier. Friday morning, we woke up, my doctor called, and we made the decision how to expel the fetus. I took Misoprostol, which causes the uterus to contract and detach anything inside. The process was painful, though not unbearable, physically. Emotionally, the weekend was truly the worst of my life.
I mourned the loss of this child’s future, and I never even knew if I was carrying a boy or a girl. It’s sad to think that no matter how many children I go on to have, I’ll always have one more pregnancy than children. I did end up having a healthy baby boy 16 months after the miscarriage and it comforts me to know that he’ll always have an older sibling angel watching over him, but to this day, there are still moments where I mourn the loss of the future for that child.
I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see. ~John Burroughs