Heartbreak

I went to the ER alone on Tuesday.

What most people don't know is that the night before Father's Day, we found out that we were expecting another child, due in early February. I had all the signs: food aversions, flatulence, fatigue, sore boobs, etc.  I'd also had a little bit of spotting but tried not to panic. Spotting can be normal during the first trimester and nothing had been the "wrong" color.

That was until Monday. I started spotting more heavily, but I wasn't cramping too much and Liam and I had concert tickets from our birthdays to use. I didn't want to ruin the evening by having a medical emergency. So we went and nothing escalated. In fact, by Tuesday morning the spotting seemed to be subsiding, but I thought I'd go to the ER to be sure things were okay.

I arrived at 8:45 am. Thankfully, the waiting room was empty and they got me back to see someone pretty quickly. He tried to be super optimistic about my situation which made me feel more at ease. I was wheeled upstairs in a hospital gown to the perinatal unit where they were to give me an ultrasound. I waited in an exam room for a bit and then was moved to a dark room for the scan.

I knew right away something was wrong. This isn't my first rodeo. At 8-9 weeks, the baby was supposed to be the size of a gummy bear and pretty easy to find with the regular device. I could see there was something there, but it was clear that it wasn't alive. 

The tech told me to go use the restroom and come back and she would do a trans vaginal scan to see if she could get a better look. When I came back, she was gone and I waited for a bit feeling a sense of doom but trying to stay positive.

She came back with the doctor. I know now it was because she knew things were wrong and wanted the doctor there to soften the blow.

The baby was small...measuring more at a 5-6 week range and there was no heartbeat. The doctor was honest that the spotting could be the beginnings of a miscarriage. However,  since I don't have a regular period, she tried to be hopeful that maybe my dates were off and the heart just hadn't started yet.  But I knew better. I knew when we conceived. I knew how long I had been experiencing symptoms. I knew it was only a matter of time.

They told me to come back for more blood work in a couple of days and an exam the next week to check things again. I drove home feeling dismal. I decided to stop at Chipotle to at least get something delicious for lunch. One of the workers came to the door to inform me they were closed due to some sort of malfunction. This made me cry briefly, but I got it together and had Bill feed me at home.

Since I'm a crazy person, I went to work. I didn't want to sit around thinking about things. I needed a distraction.

Sometime after dinner, the cramps started in earnest. They compare a miscarriage to bad menstrual cramps. After experiencing what I experienced the other night, I beg to differ. It was violent and bloody and felt more like birth than cramps. It was horrible and I'll spare you the gory details. I had to send Bill to the store to buy pads because I haven't worn pads in years.

After a couple of hours, things began to subside and I knew, for the most part, it was over.

The next day was the 4th of July.  We had a party to attend in the late afternoon. I had Bill text people not to bring up the pregnancy before we arrived. Overall, I had a pretty good day.

But yesterday was difficult. I started cramping again. A cruel reminder that our baby was dead, that our hopes and dreams had literally been flushed down the toilet.

It's never been an easy thing for us to get pregnant and to finally get pregnant and then have it snatched away is maddening. I'm also older now and more of a high risk. My clock is running out.

I know now why people don't try again. It's traumatic to go through what I did in the last few days.

We hope for a rainbow baby, but I've never been so scared. 

I pray for hope and faith.