Mom to “Monkey”
Stopped growing at 6 weeks 4 days,
D&C August 23, 2012
I always told my friends the only thing I wanted in life was to be a mom. In fact, my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to have children. I am a worrier by nature. Well, that might be the understatement of the year. I would just ATTEND a party and I spent the whole time wondering if everyone was having a good time and making sure they have everything they need. When I hear police sirens near my house, I call my husband obsessively if he doesn’t answer to make sure he is not dead.
My periods were about as regular as getting a call back after a first date. Sometimes you are pleasantly surprised and it comes even though you didn’t expect it, but most of the time you are left dumbfounded, like why he didn’t call even though everything went great? I was on some medicine that made me really irregular, but Aaron and I decided at the end of May we wanted to get started on our family.
I took progesterone to get my periods started and was really excited when my period came. June was a wash, so in July I started Clomid to see what it would do. I wasn’t entirely convinced I was ovulating in the first place because, to be frank, I hadn’t been the most careful girl in the world and had never gotten pregnant before. I like to call “pulling out” Parker and Hannah, my niece and nephew.
I took pregnancy tests like clockwork twice a day. On July 12 I had gotten so sick of looking at them and seeing that hideous control line I didn’t even look. Well, I didn’t stare at it for the three minutes. When I looked I just kind of glanced at it and did a double take. There was a light pink line! My heart started racing. I was elated! Four different brands of pregnancy tests and $65 later, I was pretty sure I could get excited.
I had my first prenatal visit July 26, 2012. Everything looked great. My doctor told me what I needed to avoid and what I need to make sure I had enough of and I was set. The only disappointment was that I had to wait three weeks for my ultrasound.
A week later I had some cramping that was probably gas, but I told you I was a worrier so I went to the ER. I told them I was bleeding a little, too, so they would give me an ultrasound. I am sorry, but I am crazy and I was dying to see my baby and hear the heartbeat so I could know this pregnancy was real and I wasn’t dreaming. Good things don’t happen to me. Everything looked good and I went home, thinking how crazy I was for always expecting the worse (I didn’t get to see the heartbeat because little did I know they don’t show you anything at the ER). I have had a lot of problems and obstacles in my life and this had become my survival tool. Expect the worse and be presently surprised when something good happens. Can you just feel the foreshadowing?
My doctor wanted to monitor my hCG, so I went the next day after my follow-up visit with her and three days later. I was already having such a stressful time, because I was going through a lot with my husband and family so I didn’t even have time to notice that there were the hCG levels to worry about. When I got the results they were 19,000, the first draw, and 19,900 three days later. I am a research addict on the internet, where I have to know anything and everything that is going on with me, so I asked the nurse if that was ok because I knew they are supposed to double. She told me not to worry. Uhh…yeah right! This lady had no idea who she was talking to!
The nurse told me that if I had ANY bleeding at all to go straight to the ER again. A week and a half later- WARNING TMI AHEAD- I had some brown discharge, so I went because I thought I just needed to be careful. They did a pelvic and everything looked fine. They wanted to do an ultrasound as well, and I got excited because I was almost 8 weeks and I thought this was my chance to hear the heartbeat. I found out my hCG had gone up to 32,000, so I thought I was in the clear.
During the ultrasound, I asked the tech if she could show me, or at least let me see the screen so I could try to figure it out myself, and she let me see the screen. I saw my little baby swimming happily in my belly. At one point she asked me if I had my right ovary. I thought, ‘Is this whack-job really having trouble finding my reproductive organs?!’ I got scared for a second because I had a right ovarian cyst removal a year earlier and thought they might have taken it. I do realize it is not a kidney and the likelihood of them stealing an ovary to sell on the black market was just flattering myself. She eventually found it.
I was starving, so I sent my husband around the hospital searching for food. He brought me a salad and it seemed gross, so I made him go find something else. He brought me back chicken fingers that tasted too much like cardboard; I thought he cut them out of poster board. I started eating one and the doctor came in. I actually said, “Please excuse the pregnant lady stuffing her face!”
I had no indication by the look on his face that anything was wrong. When he told me that my baby hadn’t grown, it took a minute for me to realize he was talking to me. When it set in, I felt like it was a joke. There was no way that a little brown discharge meant all this. However, it was true, but I instantly went into denial. I asked him if they could be wrong, and he said it was possible, but not likely. I kept thinking that this tech couldn’t find my ovary but she measured wrong?
I lost it. The kind of losing it you read about or see in movies. I couldn’t hear anyone or see anyone and I was sobbing into my husband’s arms, aware of nothing, but that everything was over in 30 seconds. Gone. Apparently the doctor left, a nurse came in because she heard me sobbing all the way down at the nurses’ station, and all I wanted was to get the HELL out of there. But, there was paperwork to sign. It actually said on my discharge papers: “Diagnosis: Threatened Abortion.” They should really think about their protocol.
Step 1: Tell completely oblivious woman her baby is dead. Make sure this a baby she wanted more than life.
Step 2: Give her paperwork with the word “abortion” on it because it is the LAST word she will want to see.
I went straight to another hospital to prove that the other hospital had been mistaken. That was not the case and I went home being told TWICE to wake up from my dream. It was over. I had spent over 4 weeks planning on maternity clothes, onesies, tiny booties, and pacifiers. I came home to see the stroller and car-seat my husband’s grandmother had given us the day before. I asked my husband to get rid of it.
The next day at the doctor she gave me some hope. Yes, a miscarriage was possible, but there was no death sentence in place. I had to wait 10 days for another ultrasound. I went home and, like I always do, planned for the worst. I could not let myself think anything was going to be ok just to hear for the third time that there was nothing I could do. Every now and then a glimmer of hope snuck in, but I tried to shut it down quickly. My husband tried to be optimistic, but it just made me angrier because I was spending all my energy convincing myself not to hope.
I read every story on misdiagnosedmiscarriage.com search for the few stories like mine where right before the D&C the doctor saw a heartbeat. It was like putting salt on my wound, but I couldn’t stop. Three days into my wait, I called my doctor and told her I just wanted it over with. I was crumbling with the stress of waiting. I did, however ,make it to the ultrasound.
The tech said she couldn’t see the sac but not to worry; she would just do an internal. The sac was there and the fetal pole was very visible but no heartbeat. I was told to come back the next day, even though I knew what they would say. I took my mom and husband, who hate each other, and told them to please just exist together, but not stress me out.
My doctor came in and told me the baby wasn’t growing and I needed a D&C. I started crying again, but the tears barely came because I had cried all week. My mother asked the doctor if they could put in an IUD during the procedure. I was shocked. After the doctor left, she told me if I ever got pregnant with my husband again she wouldn’t be there for me. It was like a prize fight where I was already on the ground, but the other guy still beat the shit out of me and had to be pulled off.
This was 5 weeks ago today and it is still a struggle and I know people say it all the time BUT I would never wish this pain on anyone. I am trying to fight and get started again but right now I am in the waiting game of getting my period back and trying again for the baby I know belongs to me.
Megan blogs at http://www.badthingshappentogoodpeople.com.
You can contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.