I decided to share our story because I think far too often in our culture these types of stories are not shared.
If you become uncomfortable when reading the word uterus.... don't read any further. I have tried to be as
objective as possible so hopefully nothing you find here offensive. It is not meant to be.
We all have bodies, sometimes bodies do interesting things and some day they will all turn into dust.
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For those of you that know us well, this is the second pregnancy loss that we have experienced. The first loss was 1 1/2 years after we were married and happened at a time that we were traveling in Israel. I was 22 years old and experienced the kind of crushing grief that is hard to explain to other people. The circumstances surrounding our miscarriage and the hospital stay was traumatic, to say the very least. I walked around angry and bitter for two years, felt completely inadequate and very vulnerable. I had difficulty reaching out to anyone except for the unfortunate few that I hand selected to bear the majority of my pain and suffering. Sorry friends. The saying, "Time heals all wounds" is very true. Though thinking back on my experience still brings tears to my eyes, I have definitely moved beyond the feelings that I carried around so long.
I realized that my lack of desire and fear to share our experiences with other people left our lives wide open to speculation that our lack of children was due to some "serious cause" other than the simple fact that we were not trying to have children. I am talking about infertility (shhhh). It became evident very quickly that people didn't understand why we would choose to wait so long after marriage to begin a family. I got a lot of fertility tips and encouragement from people which, at the time, felt like bee stings all over my ego. I could have spit in peoples faces but I'm a lady, you know. I now recognize that they were people who were trying to express loving concern for our situation... but it took me awhile.
After finishing school, buying a house and working for a year or so, we decided to fulfill the sole aim and desire of our married life and start a family. We started "trying" in June 2011 (I use that term loosely because for some that means a strict schedule or regime- not the case for us) and on Sept 19th, 2011 we found out I was 4 weeks pregnant. I have never been so happy in my life.
I chose a midwife for all of our prenatal care. She was a women that I fell in love with the first moment I met her and burst into tears, she is the kind of women that makes you feel like you can do anything and is very calm and knowledgeable. Luckily the office that she practices out of is only 7 blocks down the street from my office so I joked with my boss that when I did go into labor she could just plop me in a wagon and push me down the street. There is something about that image that I find hysterical for some reason.
Anyway, like a good pregnant woman I visited my midwife every 4 weeks. At 10 weeks we decided to have an ultrasound just to make sure everything was progressing as it should and kind of ease the anxiety we were having so we went over to the hospital. The results from the ultrasound and fetal specialist was that everything was perfect and there were no concerns. Such a wonderful feeling. Week 12 or so, I was back at my midwifes office and she could pick up a beautiful heartbeat on her office doppler thing. We decided to tell everyone about the pregnancy at that point because there was only a "3% chance of miscarriage after you hear a healthy heartbeat."
Week 15-16 I was back in the midwifes office and again she picked up a beautiful heartbeat. I had started experiencing the round ligament pains while everything in my belly was stretch, stretch, stretching to accommodate the little one. Everything seemed just as it should.
Week 19-20 On January 3rd, I got up for work and felt great. Jamal and I talked that morning and decided that since everything was going so well and the baby was fine, I would go to the appointment on my own. At 10:00 I was called into my midwives office and we talked for awhile and she asked if I wanted to listen for the heart beat. I of course did, so she got out her machine and started rolling it all over my belly..... nothing..... nothing.... nothing.... panic. I had my eyes closed and was trying really hard to listen for anything. I opened my eyes to see her standing there looking completely terrified. She was trying to act calm but she told me that I needed to get my things and go sit in her personal office. She talked to the OB Gyn that oversees the clinic and they agreed that I needed to go directly to the hospital for an emergency ultrasound. I called Jamal's cell phone, work cell phone and desk phone on repeat maybe 6 times... no answer.
I headed over to the radiology department and tried Jamal one last time. Finally he answered and I let him know where I was and what was happening. He immediately left work while I went in for a final ultrasound. During the ultrasound the technician wouldn't tell me anything. I just laid on the table praying that they would find the baby was completely healthy and fine. I returned to my midwives office to await the results and Jamal met me there. We sat in the waiting area for what felt like forever until my midwives nurse called me into her personal office. My midwife just grabbed me and shook her head with tears in her eyes. We knew what that meant.
Evidently in that last 4 weeks sometime between week 15-19 the baby had stopped developing. They weren't sure exactly when. Normally when something like this happens you have three options; 1. wait until your body recognizes it and labor begins on it's own, 2. Chemically induce labor or, 3. D & C, a surgery were they either scrape or vacuum extract the contents of your uterus.
Unfortunately we did not know when the baby passed on and I was still experiencing the full spectrum of "pregnancy symptoms." My body clearly hadn't recognized that something was wrong and I could have been carrying around a dead baby in my stomach for up to 4 weeks. Not the most healthy thing to do. Waiting was no longer a safe option due to potential infection risks. So, my choices were limited to chemical induction or surgery. In consultation with the midwife, we chose chemical induction which we agreed (between the two options) has the lowest risk of uterine rupture or scarring that could potentially interfere with or prevent future pregnancies.
She got on the phone again and spoke with the OB Gyn who would oversee the chemical induction. Jamal and I were supposed to go over to the hospital and meet her.... or at least that is what I thought. I don't really know what I was thinking at this point because I am pretty certain I was in shock. We had handwritten notes. Direct admit, L201, notify Dr. Kelly immediately. I thought L201 would be a conference room (don't ask me why) so I completely burst into tears when I walked into L201 to find a complete birthing unit with a bed and bathroom. I realized what was happening at that moment. I had chosen not only to admit myself to the hospital, but I was going to have to push a baby out of me.
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