Many women can't discuss their miscarriages. It's too painful for them, even years and births later. I respect and honor that. For me, I feel compelled to talk about it. I want to. It's like a therapy for me and I almost feel like it could help someone in the future.
However, I am going to be writing about my miscarriage in detail, so if you are sensative to it, please don't read it. If you have negative comments, please keep them to yourselves for this post. While I am able to talk and write about my loss, it is still a deep wound for me.
***My Loss, June 12, 2007***
It actually probably started over the weekend. We were at the re-enactment and I was feeling fine. However, my husband kept looking at me questioningly and asking me if I was all right. I felt just fine...perhaps a little dehydrated and that's why I was guzzling water, but fine. Later, my in-laws arrived for a visit and my father-in-law immediately noticed that I didn't look right. He said I looked gray. More questions. I honestly answered that I felt fine, however, I did decide not to attend a bridal shower because I felt like it would be too much for me.
Sunday, I was weary, but nothing out of the ordinary. Monday, nothing unusual. Monday night, I didn't sleep well and woke up Tuesday morning feeling wet. I figured it was sweat from a hot night, but I just kept feeling wet so I put in a pad. Tuesday, I started feeling crampy. I was slightly alarmed, but not too much so because I tended to cramp a little with Bubby. After a while, I realized the cramps weren't womb-enlarging cramps. They were contractions. My spirits fell. A trip to the bathroom showed brownish spotting in the pad. I immediately began to talk to God about what was happening. Deep down, I knew I was losing my baby.
Still, I kept on with my day, in denial. "I'm 11 weeks pregnant," I reasoned. "The baby's heart was beating just fine two weeks ago!"
After lunch, I went shopping and had to stop at my parents' house. The cramps were getting worse and worse. I was getting more and more fretful. I used the bathroom and noticed a tiny clot and some pink. I told my mom and went home to call the doctor.
I love my doctor and his whole staff. They're so kind, but up front and truthful. I was told to take it easy and they'd see me in the morning. In the meantime, if I were to start bleeding, I had to go to the hospital.
The tears started. I asked God if He was taking my baby from me. He already had her.
I composed myself in time for hubby to come home and I explained the situation. He was so supportive and didn't question anything I said. (I hate when guys say, "Nothing's wrong, you're just over-reacting or hormonal.") So, we sat down to dinner and as soon as I swallowed my last bite, I had a really bad contraction and the blood started. I told hubby I had to go to the hospital and we both jumped to action. Hubby called my mom to sit Bubby and I called the hospital and packed an overnight bag.
We were down the road asap to the local woman's hospital. They took great care of me immediately, but when I told them blood was running down my leg, they were rather taken aback at the amount I was bleeding. The doctor was detained (I think he was delivering a baby) so I had about a 20 minute wait alone (hubby was in the waiting room at this point). During this time, I had another huge contraction and passed my baby. I saw my little one. Still had the over-sized head, but I could see one closed little eye (baby was on her side.) She was curled up fetally and her little fists were closed tight. So peaceful was her shell, almost reflecting the perfect peace she's experiencing in Heaven in the arms of our Loving Savior.
Soon, the room was a hustle and bustle as they took care of me and re-alerted the doctor and sent me to ultrasound. The ultrasound showed a LOT of clotting within me. The doctor was finally free from the birth and arrived. He took a look at the ultrasound and within me. Then he jumped to his feet and got the nurses going, too.
While I was slightly amused at their efficeincy, I found out later that I was an emergency case.....I was bleeding to death.....
Quick as a wink, I was rolled into the OR where I met I kind-faced anesthesiologist who in rapid speed, explained that I was to get an epidural. I protested a little, but it was explained to me that because I had eaten a rather heavy dinner not too long ago, an epidural was the quickest and safest thing for me at that point. They didn't let me argue. They wouldn't let me wait. I felt peace and trust in them, so I didn't bother to argue. They were trying to save my life. I just didn't know at that point.
I didn't even feel the epidural. I was woozy from the "calming juice" they gave me and cold, even though they wrapped me up the best they could. The D&C didn't take too long and the doctor told me that it was a success. I immediately stopped bleeding and went back to spotting (normal and would last 5-7 days).
Recovery took the longest, though they were amazed I could move my legs soon after surgery. I was determined to go home. After a while, they wheeled me to my room. (I should note at this point that hubby was with me for the ultrasound, the doctor's exam, and the OR prep and recovery but he couldn't go in for the surgery). I layed there during a shift change and finally asked when I could go home. A nurse came in and told me I had to eat, drink and urinate before I could go home. So, I ate. I drank, but the epidural had me frozen.
Just before 2:30 am, I finally went to the bathroom. My discharge papers were drawn up, but the nurse kept saying that I should stay. But I felt pretty good! (I didn't know I had almost died!) I just wanted to go home to my own bed and see my son again. I was about to sign the final discharge paper when I passed out. The nurse alerted the doctor and it was decided that I should stay. I did.
Wednesday at 9 am, I was released. I felt good, but tired. I was told to take it easy for the next couple of days and was rattled off a list of reasons why I should call the doctor. So I went home, rested and developed an epidural headache. I spent the day in pain and emotionally ragged as I finally had a chance to run through what the doctors said and did and what happened and that I was no longer pregnant. I felt like I could never have another baby again. What if....what if....what if.....
WebMD says that an epidural headache can take up to 5 days to heal. I hated being bedridden and just wanted to move on with my life. Now, I believe God allowed me to have those headaches to get the rest I needed and to rely on Him. It still hasn't sunk in just how much I went through. I still can't believe that I almost died and just how much that takes out of a person physically. I admit, I'm on FORCED rest because I want to get out and clean the house top to bottom, go out for a run, go shopping, etc.
Sunday, just minutes after my church gathered in prayer for me, my epidural headache disappeared! Praise the Lord! I had plenty of therapy in the meantime with prayers coming from all over the world, to flowers, phone calls and open ears. My son showered me with kisses. My husband keeps saying how happy he is I'm still with him.
Now, I have a slight bladder infection. I'm still on rest and guzzling fluids.
Still, I find myself rubbing my tummy as if I'm still pregnant. Then I realize it's empty and I feel down. On the other hand, I'm ready to start trying again in August or September (depending on what my doc. says).
I have great Peace in my Loving Savior Jesus Christ. I know I'll see my children again (I miscarried back in October, too). I look forward to the day I can come back on here and announce a new pregnancy and trust in God that it'll "stick" and be a healthy one.