Coming Home and Finding the Road to Recovery.

Before I really tell you my story of healing,  let me acknowledge that there is no right way or wrong way to experience grief.  There is no luck. There are no at least's… There are no "try again" answers that you will want or need to hear. No one can tell you to feel better and no one has the right to make you feel like your grief is less than what it is. You will feel everything on your own. There are no easy miscarriages and there are no rule books for grieving or healing. It's your prayer that had been answered. It's the future you had imagined. It's your pain. Most importantly, it's your baby and it's your time to heal. In my case, there was pain and confusion and embarrassment. The inability to tell my loved ones… My heart was broken and this burden, this guilt, this anguish, fear, pain, anger…emptiness, sadness, was mine alone. I didn't want anyone else to experience it. I was awful.

The day after our loss, I came home. I slept. I cried. I cried and I kept crying.. I don’t know, for days? For weeks? I found myself randomly bursting into tears.  My face was swollen and sore.  My curtains were closed. I slept on the air mattress in our living room. I only got up to use the bathroom and that in itself was terrifying.

I remembered sitting and thinking, my god, I couldn’t ask for anything more in this precious life. I had the health of my baby, my husband, my home. Everything was just how I had imagined it. And then suddenly that was gone. My house was dark. I was afraid to be alone. I no longer had my baby.

I avoided the phone calls.

We were four and a half months along. I had just quit my job to dedicate my time to being healthy.  I had started our nursery. It’s beautiful, but for weeks and weeks after our miscarriage, it felt like a beautiful tomb. My body felt so empty. I felt hollow. I felt like I had been betrayed by my body and that was the scariest thing. I couldn’t look in the mirror. I was scared to see the place my baby had been. I was scared to see what was left... or not left. 

Two weeks later… I started searching for answers. I started looking into statistics. I started looking for reasons. I was recommended a group for grieving women… I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to share. I went through random periods where I felt as though maybe it was better that I hurt so bad. Maybe hurting is better and maybe it’s what I deserved. These statistics… These were daunting. They seemed to justify the pain. After the emptiness, the pain just felt better.

Miscarriages… They’re something that we don’t really talk about openly. The problem is that they are all too common and there are rarely any answers. I believe that one in four pregnancies will end in miscarriage. In my case, the percentage is only three. I’m not sure if reading this made mine hurt more for me. I’m not sure if it made the situation feel more dire… I don’t know, but it is daunting. I’ve been average my whole life… Why was I forced to experience this? Statistically, that should not have been me. Right? I felt like someone had made a mistake and the fear of being unable to carry took over for a long time.

There are a lot of tools available. You are really just a google search, a blog, a secret pinterest page away from finding some comfort. In my case, these tools were there for me later… I mean much later… Later because I had to go down further. I had to find a weird and dark side of my personality that I didn’t think was there. I became more anxious. I thought I was dying. I was scared to leave the house or use the phone and … well, that made me happy. It made me happy until it didn’t. I found that one day I cried a little less than the day before. I started showering and putting on a little makeup. I started forcing myself to go outside, even if it was just to let the dog pee. I walked into our nursery without holding my breath. I thought about our baby instead of distancing myself from him. I cut my hair and I started writing.  I went to dinner with my husband and then I realized that I deserved better than this pain. I realized that he also deserved better that this pain. It was time to work through it.

So, I kept doing the research. It was scary. I found a new doctor. I started reading blogs and I found familiar voices. I started sharing with small groups of friends and family. I started talking. In talking, I found that even though statistically I was in the three percent, I had so many women sharing their experiences and offering words of support and care and encouragement and I found that I was less afraid. I also found that we as women feel isolated and ashamed and scared. We do not have to feel this way. We are remarkable beings with immense amounts of compassion for each other. Someone you know has been through this.

I can tell you like so many others, that it will get better. It will. You will feel better. I can tell you this because it’s true, but I can’t make you feel better. It’ll just happen the way it happens for you. One day, you’ll see or hear something that will simultaneously make you happy… and sad. You’ll experience your first bittersweet moment and then your life will start to begin again, my friend.

Just remember, you’re not alone. I know you hurt. It is not your fault.Take your time and when you’re ready, we’re here for you.

So, on the next lil blog, we’ll start with how I stared living my new life.

Below are a few links to explore. They all have great and insightful info if you or someone you know is experiencing loss.

http://www.babble.com/pregnancy/10-things-i-never-heard-of-before-my-2nd-trimester-miscarriage/

http://www.lindseymbell.com/why-its-not-just-a-miscarriage/

http://seeingsunshine.com/2016/02/03/what-i-didnt-know-about-miscarriage-until-i-had-one/

The Day it Happens.

Oh my god. What’s happening?

Now, I’m going to go through a very dry detail of events leading up to our miscarriage. It might be brutal. In trying to be honest, this might be very difficult for some people to read. It’s so important that I’m honest though. I won’t exaggerate and I’ll try not to leave anything out. This is also not a chance for me to wage a war or to right the wrongs, It’s just what happened

It was a Tuesday. The day before, I had some cramping… it’s just cramping. My doctor told me that most likely, it was just the stretching of my tendons.

In thinking about the turn of events, I know now that I was going into labor.

My husband and I were in on Thursday to find out the sex of the baby. We started our initial anatomy scans… Everything looked tip top. Except, it didn’t feel tip top…. I don’t know. I just had this weird bad feeling. The ultrasound technician had a hard time getting him to move around to take al of the scans. Weird, he’s been so active in the past. We were going back in next month for the detailed anatomy. She said they were able to see 97% of what they needed. He looked great… just sleepy. They would get the rest at a later date. He was sucking his thumb…

It was week 18 and I hadn’t felt him move yet…. The quickening. Nothing. That Friday, I went to my regularly scheduled OBGYN appointment. I had the sniffles, but nothing out of the ordinary. I explained my lower back pain. I talked about the rare instances I had experienced an abdominal pain. I was reassured. Always reassured.

There is a very important reason why I’m trying to remember anything and everything that happened within these few days. I need to know what happened. I don’t know what to tell you though, most people, me… we’ll never know.  I’ll never know how or why.

Let’s get back to that Tuesday night. My nightmare. I remember telling my husband and my sister in law about my tendons. It felt like the baby was in my bladder. I decided to try and wiggle him out of that position by doing some very safe yoga stretches. It seemed to help right away. I felt less pressure and I spent the afternoon with my husband feeling very relaxed watching t.v.

The next morning, I woke up. Grabbed myself a morning snack and a small cup of coffee. Regulation sized coffee. I was still fine.

At around 1pm that day, I started to feel the need to use the restroom…. A lot. My pains were back… I started spotting. I decided to call my doctor. I left a message with the desk. I jumped in the shower and did some stretching…. “God, are these pains getting more frequent?” I started looking at the clock. My doctor calls back at 2:30pm. “I’m experiencing abdominal pains. They’re about an hour apart. I’m spotting.” I was asked to come in at 5pm. Upon jumping in the cab at 4pm,I experienced an extremely sharp cramp. I looked at the clock and called my husband. He was on his way. 4:04pm.. Oh my god, I think I’m going into labor. Please let this be a coincidence.  4:08pm. Again. There is a wall of traffic.

I arrived at my OBGYN ten minutes early. I checked in. Several other mothers were squeezed into this timeslot. At least 10 very pregnant ladies sat in this waiting room. It felt very tense. This office closes at 7pm. After over an hour of sitting, I was finally seen.  I thought they asked me to come in at five pm? They sounded concerned over the phone. I reminded the front desk that I was asked to come in. I was in pain. My doctor was out that evening. I was unable to see her. Her associate, owner of this practice and seasoned OBGYN asked me what was wrong. I’m telling you…I know that I explained all of this in detail, both over the phone and in person several times over. I explained the cramping, time between the cramping, the bleeding, lack of movement thus far… All of this. He decided to give me a pelvic exam. 

The pain from this exam was excruciating. I was in tears. It didn’t feel right. My body was on high alert. “Your baby looks fine. Your cervix looks fine. Everything looks fine… Except did you know that you are bleeding.” “Yes, I thought I told you that.” “No.” “Why is my baby upright in this sonogram?” “I’m not sure, but his heart rate is fine. Why don’t you have yourself a proper ultrasound tomorrow? Go home and get some rest.” “What about this pain? It’s now every 3 minutes.” “What pain? Maybe you should just head over to the E.R.”

He asked me why my eyes were red… at that moment I realized in fact, everything that I’ve said, the pain I was in from the cramping and the pelvic exam went right over his head….. His office was closing.

Srey hailed a cab and we headed to the E.R… I couldn’t walk. A gentleman ran towards me with a wheelchair.

The whole time I thinking to myself… It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll get help. This happens to pregnant women, I’m sure of it. My baby is fine.

Oh my god, I’m here. Thank god. Someone can help me.

I was told to fill out my paperwork and wait.

The staff didn’t want the wheelchair up there. They said that they did not want to have to take it back down.  I had to get out of it and find a spot to sit… in the waiting room. No seats. My husband starts asking for help, I’m on the ground. Still no help and I’m in tears. People are staring. Why isn’t anyone helping? I’m starting to get nauseous. My pain is every thirty seconds… Srey is worried. The look on his face. Oh my god. This isn’t right. He kicks past the door again. He was desperate to find me help. He’s begging.  He’s pleading with the nurses who told him to take me out, yet again… I collapse onto the floor breathing heavy. I’m on my hands and knees and I’m crying.  A doctor saw me and pointed to a bed. “Can’t she wait in here?”

I sat. Thankful. The room was small. It was spinning. I told my husband that I didn’t want to worry him, but I was starting to blackout. The pain was constant and it was so intense. I was in and out. I was freezing. My teeth were chattering and then the pain would shoot heat waves through my body and I would start sweating. I started to dry heave. The nurse hands him a garbage can. “Can you at least get her to throw up in here?”

I did and that’s when the doctor comes in…

“Get her into the examination room, now.”

The nurse asked me if I was able to walk, but I told her I couldn’t make it. Unbelievably, she asks me not to lie to her and then repeats the question….

The Doctor seemed to take over at this point. I was wheeled into a room at the end of the hallway and they start undressing me. I couldn’t help them and I remember apologizing. It only took her a second to understand what was going on. She ordered her staff to get me to labor and delivery immediately. I knew. I finally knew. My heart just stopped. I told her that he was fine an hour ago. My OB looked at him. His heart was beating.

They quickly rolled me into another room down the main hallway. I was naked from the waist down and before they could close the door, my water broke.

The things that stick out in your head and the things that just keep reminding you of that day are so random and can be so minor. They hurt. The look on my husbands face… It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Never could I imagine seeing him hurt like that and for some reason, at the time, I thought I had caused him that pain. The nurse that was unaware of the circumstances telling me not to worry, that I was about to meet my baby. I should be excited… And the doctor telling her that I was only 19 weeks… The male nurse or doctor in the room that seemed to be following the main doctor, he looked horrified standing behind her. His mouth was open. Eventually, he would come to my aid and help me push. I went from patient to human. He was no longer a student, but a compassionate human that was doing all he could to help.

It was painful, but worse, I can’t explain the immediate emptiness that I felt. I thought that my trip to the hospital would be painful, yes, but full of joy. I thought we would have our baby. I never imagined holding him and then having to give him away. Never seeing him again. I thought that he would be my baby forever. I had to say hello and goodbye to a perfectly healthy looking baby. He looked like his dad. Did he feel pain?

I stayed overnight. I had an elevated white blood cell count. Cause or effect? We’ll never know, really.

Remember when I was telling you about things that will always remind you of that day? Things that will always bother you? The phrase, You should feel lucky… Yeah, you should feel lucky.. I heard this phrase countless times during my stay in this disgusting place. You should feel lucky because....At least I have a husband that cares. At least IT wasn’t full-term. At least I was healthy. At least I didn’t have to wait too long. At least it happened fast. At least I get to home tomorrow. At fucking least…. I should feel lucky for all of these things. Fucking Bastards. They were just trying to help.

Jesus. This was a hard one to write.