Told by: Rachel
My first daughter was so easy to conceive, and while she gave me all the typical aches and pains, she was such a breeze to carry. I guess being pregnant with her made me take for granted that everything would be that easy from then on. Two and a half years later my husband and I decided we were ready for another child and my Mirena was removed. My cycle came like clock work every 30 days for the next five months. That November I started spotting brown mid cycle and it contiued for 10 days before I went in to the doc to see what was going on. I was told “congrats, you’re pregnant.” The doc guessed I was 8-10 weeks based on my uterus size and sent for an ultrasound. It took a couple weeks of rollercoaster rides of guessing if I was too early to see baby, having a miscarriage, or having an ectopic before we finally were told that I was having a miscarriage. It was very difficult for me but I was able to come to terms with it. Fast forward two years and we still have not been able to conceive.
It was so heartbreaking for me and for my husband. Finally we were blessed with a wonderful little girl who is now almost three years old. We knew that with my troubles conceiving my youngest that we should not use any birthcontrol and let nature take it’s course. I nursed until my daughter self weaned at 13 months old. I figured I would have troubles getting pregnant while she was nursing, but even months after she weaned my cycles were 46-89 days long. I struggled with feelings of inadequacy over taking Clomid month after month and still no baby. I felt like I was not a “real woman” because I could not conceive a child. Finally 7 cycles of Clomid later, right after burying my father in law, we found out we were pregnant. I had a bad feeling from the first postivie pregnancy test, but allowed myself to feel hope and excitement with each symptom and each day that passed.
At 7 weeks we saw our little one’s heart beating strong and fell even more in love. Still in the back of my mind something just was not right. I ended up in the ER with a small amount of spotting and cervical pains. The doc treated me as if I were a turkey he was trying to stuff and left me sitting there crying in pain. Finally the on call OB came and did a quick scan to confirm the baby had a heart beat. The doc never measured the heartbeat, or the baby, and then the ER sent me on my way feeling as if no questions were answered. I called my OB to try and be seen earlier than 12 weeks and was blown off. I called when I felt like I was dilating and again was blown off. Things just did not feel right and no one would listen. I started spotting one night and went in to the ER. I thought for sure I would be told I needed a cerclage or be put on bedrest. The tech doing the scan made small talk and seemed happy and upbeat, but never let me see the screen. I figured it was normal and thought nothing of it. Two hours later the ER doc came in and asked me if anyone had given me the results of my scan. I told him no, of course not, he was the only one who was allowed to give them to us. Then, as if he was telling me the sky was blue, he announced I had a miscarriage.
My world started spinning. Nothing made sense. It was like an out of body experience. Miscarriage? How could that be? My baby had a heartbeat just a few weeks before that. My husband asked if the baby would pass on its own or if we needed a procedure to help it pass. I was so confused at that point, I knew I had not physically passed my baby, the sac, placenta, blood or anything. There was no way the little amount of spotting I had, had been a miscarriage. The doc must be wrong. So I asked him how I had a miscarriage when I never lost the baby. Then it clicked, my baby was dead, but still inside me. I asked him if he meant my baby was dead, but still inside me of me. He nodded his head but said nothing. I asked for how long, how, and why. He only said I do not know. He asked if we had any more questions, but his tone clearly stated he could not care less and was hoping we said no.
I started panicking, screaming, crying, throwing things. I was having a breakdown. I just kept screaming “my baby, my baby no not my baby!”
The nurse came in and tried to console me. She answered questions as best as she could, hugged me and offered me resources for grief counseling. I was there physically, but mentally I had checked out. It was almost like an out of body experience. I was so angry. How could this happen? Why? Why MY baby? Why when I had to struggle for years to conceive and had already had three miscarriages in my life did I have to lose another baby? This baby had lived. This baby had a heart beat. I saw it. I watched my perfect little baby inside my body with a strong healthy beating heart. I had to wait 2 days to reach my doctor and ended up going to what was supposed to be my first prenatal check up, to confirm that my baby was in fact still.
The midwife let me see the baby. She let me have a picture. She answered my questions as best as she could. She had to call in the OB because protocol stated a second person had to confirm before anything could be done to help the physical passing of the baby. The OB was unfeeling and more than once referred to my history of miscarriages as “bad luck” even though no testing had been done. She presrcibed me some pills to help me pass the baby. I was 12 weeks pregnant when I took the pills. It was not long after the pills were inserted that I got crampy, very crampy and passed a lot of clots. One clot was so large that I thought it might actually be the baby. When I leaned over the toilet to look, my youngest daughter ran in and flushed the toilet. She thought she was helping mommy. I cried and cried because I thought she flushed the baby.
I laid down and cried and suddenly felt a gush. I ran to the bathroom and found my water had broke. I thought it was strange that I would pass the baby and THEN my water would break. I sat on the toilet again, cramping horribly and passed a lot more clots and tissue. I then looked in the toilet and found THERE was my baby, whole, tiny and perfect. I did not even think twice, I fished the tiny little body, no more than an inch and a half to two inches long out of the toilet. I laid it on a paper towel and bawled. My beautiful little baby had eyes, arms, legs and though alien like, my baby was perfect. Some think it is strange, but I took pictures of my baby. I wanted to remember him or her forever just as tiny and perfect as he or she was.
It has been 6 and a half months since my miscarriage. I took a round of Clomid a month after my miscarriage not sure if I was ready to try again or not. I was blessed with another chance that first cycle after losing my angel. I am now 24 weeks pregnant with our first little boy. This pregnancy has been rough for me. We had a threatened miscarraige early on and I have lived in fear of losing another child. So far everything is perfect and Baby Matthew is measuring ahead and wiggling up a storm. I feel a lot of guilt because while I am eternally grateful to be carrying a healthy little boy, I still grieve over, and miss my angel baby. I still cry. The 19th of August is the date my angel baby was due. This week is increasingly hard because I know that I should be holding a perfect little baby right now, but instead I am 16 weeks away from my due date with Baby Matthew. I know how blessed I am but it does not stop the pain of losing the perfect little life I carried inside of me. My husband wonders when I will be able to get passed the loss. I wonder when he will realize you never truly get passed losing a child, born or unborn.
