My story. It's long, but feels good to get it all out.
I've never done this before. Apologies if I ramble. I'm curious to see if I can organize this into a few paragraphs. I feel like once I get started I might not stop. I am 39 years old, happily married, mom to a sweet, gorgeous 5 year old boy. When I was 31, I lost my right ovary to a borderline malignancy, which is the mildest form of ovarian cancer. Doctor told us if we were going to have kids to do it soon. Logan was born two years later. No complications, unless you count gaining 70lbs and giving birth to a 10lb baby!
Tried to get pregnant again for a long time. Quit trying ... got pregnant this past Fall. Told our son, who had been begging for a sibling. He was overjoyed. Told family and close friends, and my boss (I needed to explain why I kept falling asleep at my desk). Decided not to spread the news further in case I had an early miscarriage. What did I know of miscarriage? No one talks about what it's like.
October 9 we went for our first ultrasound. I was 8.5 weeks along. There was the baby, but there was no heartbeat. It measured at 8 weeks, so the heart had just stopped within the past few days. The image of it on the screen, so small and still, will never leave me. I had never heard of a missed miscarriage. Didn't know that my body could be oblivious to the death of my baby. I cried so hard I couldn't breathe, and I was glad my husband was there to speak with the nurse about our options. I decided to wait and miscarry naturally. I was so ignorant of what a miscarriage could be that I kept going to work, thinking I could grab a menstrual pad and go home if it started at the office.
How did I not completely lose my mind? My husband shared the news with friends and family. I told our son. I managed not to cry when I told him, and he handled it with more grace and understanding than I have ever seen in a small child. My body continued to do nothing.
After more than a week, I asked for a second ultrasound, just so I could confirm there was no hope of my baby really being alive. There was no change. I scheduled my D&C. Missed miscarriage was discovered on October 9 ... D&C was performed on October 20.
It should have been over after that; physically, at least. I felt so empty the next morning, but at least I could begin to heal. The physical nightmare of it was over, and I could begin to rebuild and move on. Then my doctor called and it all fell apart. She needed to talk to me about the pathologist's report. They found no evidence of fetal tissue. At all. I tried to wrap my head around what she was telling me. I knew it had been a baby. What else could it be? I had seen it on the screen. She asked me to come back in for another ultrasound, immediately. I think about what followed, and I still can't quite grasp it, can't believe it.
The ultrasound revealed my baby, completely intact, like the D&C had never happened. They missed it, completely.
I thought about the release form I had signed at the surgery center, how I had acknowledged that some tissue could be left behind. Ok, I acknowledge that risk, but the entire baby? I've tried internet searches to find others this has happened to. I don't think there are many of us out there.
Another D&C was scheduled for the next afternoon (I had already eaten lunch that day, or they would have sent me straight down to the surgery center). I went home, didn't eat or drink after midnight, and began to bleed. If any part of that next day was fortunate, it was that my son went off to school before the contractions started. Dehydrated, hungry, scared out of my mind, I began to realize I was experiencing what felt very much like labor. I took 3 darvocet with little sips of water. They did nothing. We called my doctor's office and they said come in immediately. I should have gone to the ER, but I wanted my doctor, I wanted my D&C. I was a mess. My husband flagged down a police car and we had a police escort to the doctor's office. Sirens screaming and we ran every red light. Got into my doctor's office and found out that all the nurse and PA wanted to do was examine me. I sat on the floor of the examining room clutching a pillow and refused to let them touch me. I begged for drugs, which they didn't have. I wanted to die. I didn't want to die: my son needed me. Finally, they sent me downstairs to the surgery center, hours before my scheduled appointment. They are not used to emergency cases and tried to follow standard protocol. No painkillers until I signed all their forms and answered all their questions. I was polite and obedient, as only they could make it stop. They kept trying to get a urine sample, but all I could do was bleed. I remember my doctor showing up and all I could do was whimper at her. I was an animal; all I knew at this point was pain and fear. I was losing so much blood. I heard her tell them to give me something immediately. It took 5 tries to get an IV in me because I was dehydrated and panicked (my arms were bruised the next day). After what felt like hours it was over, and I woke up in a recovery room. The second D&C had been assisted by ultrasound. Why aren't they all?
I didn't realize until days later because the shift had been so subtle, but from the moment I learned my first D&C had been botched, what was inside of me was no longer my beloved baby: it was a thing that needed to be removed, an invader, like the tumor that had claimed my ovary. It felt like a betrayal when I realized this. What was in me was always my baby: very loved and never forgotten. I later learned from my doctor that the first D&C had missed the baby because my uterus had formed a protective nook around it. My body had tried to guard my baby until the end.
This is how it was for me. The few people who know of my miscarriage ... I wonder what they envision, if they've never had one. Thank you for reading this. I tried to keep it brief but didn't do a very good job. Anyone else out there have it happen like this?
