"And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain there would be no rainbow."
- GK Chesterton
THE RAIN
On June 4, 2011 I took a pregnancy test and it was negative. I was a little disappointed, but also relieved. I had only been off my birth control for a month after being on it for around a decade. I was relieved because AJ and I were getting ready to drive down to Pensacola Beach, Florida for our annual vacation on our wedding anniversary, and I was still smoking and planned on drinking several beers on the beach.
We spent the week at the beach and enjoyed several cigarettes, beers, fruity beach drinks, and seafood. On June 11, 2011 we were back home and I took another pregnancy test since my period had still not started and I was curious. There were 2 lines. It was positive. I started shaking and trembling. I walked into the kitchen and showed the test to AJ, who was cooking eggs and sausage for breakfast. He smiled at me.
We decided then to not mention anything since it was early. I would go to work that Monday and call the doctor to find out what was next. I didn't even have an OB/GYN, I had always just gone to my family practitioner. I immediately got online and started reading about the do's and don'ts of pregnancy. I downloaded apps on my iPhone to read about the size of the baby and what he or she was doing in there. I didn't touch another cigarette after I saw those 2 lines.
That Monday I called the doctors office. Since I work in the OR, I know several of the OB's and decided I wanted Dr. W since she was nice and I worked with her the least and thought I would be more comfortable with her because of that. They told me they didn't see anyone until a certain week in pregnancy (since the risk of miscarriage is highest in the first trimester). They decided I was about 6 weeks along based on my last period, so I would have to wait a little bit before my first appointment.
AJ and I decided to wait to spread the news until we got an OK from the first doctor's appointment.
Over the next couple days I continued researching about pregnancy, what to eat and what not to, what was safe to continue doing and what wasn't. A few times at night AJ would get onto me about putting my phone down and stop reading about the baby for a minute. But I was so excited. I had figured it would take us 6 months to a year to get pregnant, since that is the normal amount of time for healthy couples. I hadn't expected a baby in the first month off birth control. I loved the baby, and I wanted to know everything about it.
On Thursday I woke up and peed. When I wiped, there was brown discharge on the toilet paper. I stopped breathing. From what research I had done I had read that any type of blood, old or new, was a red flag of some sort. I had to get to work, and the doctor's office didn't open until 8:30, so I spent that morning worried and scared. When the office finally opened, I had to spend my entire break on the phone trying to get ahold of someone.
The problem was that I wasn't an established patient, no one had ever seen me, I wasn't in the computer, they had no history on me. I was basically a random girl with discharge and no one claimed me. I played phone tag with Dr. W's nurse Theresa all morning since I was stuck in a room and the cell phone service was very shabby back then in the hospital. Every time I called back I had to explain to the person who answered that I needed to talk to Theresa and they wanted to know if I was pregnant and what was the nature of my question. Every time I went through these conversations with strangers on the phone it felt like my heart was breaking more and more. I didn't know if I was still pregnant. The discharge wasn't going away, it was getting worse.
Finally I got to talk to Theresa and she set me up with the OB on-call, Dr. B. I was to come into the office immediately. I explained to my work that I needed to go get some labs drawn, but told them nothing more. I crossed the bridge, went up a flight, and they had me fill out paperwork and took a picture of me in my OR scrubs and cap. I still wonder what my face looks like in that picture. Lost? Scared? Sad? It hurts to think about that girl in the photo that pops up when they clock me in for an appointment now.
Dr. B saw me and explained to me that since I was A- blood type, he was going to give me a RhoGAM shot since I was bleeding. He was also going to have lab draw an HCG on me, and we would probably need a follow-up HCG as well. He spoke to me about the risk of miscarriage in the first trimester, but he didn't give me false hope. I appreciated his empathy and sensitivity when speaking to this random girl who wasn't his patient.
Theresa came in to stab me in the butt with a RhoGAM shot. I went to have blood drawn. They called me later with the results. I was in the 50's. I want to say 54 but I can't be sure anymore. After work I told my mom and AJ told Momma T what was going on. It wasn't the surprise announcement we had envisioned, but we needed them for support because we were both scared. Neither of them had ever experienced what I was going through, but they were trying to be positive for me.
I spent hours on the internet reading about spotting, discharge, signs of miscarriage. My heart ached as I read other people's stories, but I also was given hope. There was no bright red blood like the other women were writing about, I felt I was still in the clear. I could be having implantation bleeding, which was entirely normal, like Dr. B had said. In fact, my labs being in the 50's gave me hope too, so much hope that AJ and I bought "World's Greatest Grandpa" shirts as a way of announcing to our fathers. We planned on announcing Father's Day, the 19th. Looking back now, I can see that I was being foolish, and grasping on to whatever false hope I still had that everything was going to be okay. Maybe it was my way of coping, I don't know.
On June 19th, Father's Day, I woke up and went to the bathroom.
Bright red blood.
I didn't know what to do. I went outside and got on my phone to page the OB on-call. The operator didn't want to page anyone for me since I told her I still didn't have an established OB. Finally I told her Dr. B had seen me in the office on-call and that was good enough. Just fucking page the on-call doctor, you bitch! I was in tears.
While I was waiting for a phone call back, my dad came outside and saw me crying. He asked what was going on. I told him I was waiting for the OB to call me back. He asked me if I was pregnant. I said that I was. He asked me if I was upset about it. I told him I thought I had lost the baby. The phone rang.
I got paged back by the nurse practitioner taking call that weekend. I explained to her what had happened since Thursday and what I had just woken up to. She told me to go to the ER only if I had signs of an ectopic pregnancy, like severe pain on one side of my abdomen. Otherwise I was to wait until their office opened the next day and get ahold of someone and I would probably have to come in and have labs drawn again.
Father's Day. I don't remember much of it. It seems like it was gray outside but I don't know. I don't remember.
I called into work that night and on Monday I woke up and called the office, having to explain to more people what was going on before they would track down Theresa for me. When Theresa finally called me back, she told me to come up to the office and get an HCG drawn. I drove up there, dealt with a rude bitch at the desk who wouldn't just give me my paper for lab, and went to have another vial of blood taken. Theresa told me they ordered the lab stat, so we would know something in a couple hours. If the number came back higher, we were high risk but it was hopeful. If the number came back lower, I was miscarrying.
I drove back home scream crying, feeling sorry for myself, shouting at God, WHY?! I knew what was happening, I knew that it was too much blood, and I was so exhausted by the drawn-out ordeal of phone calls and shots and lab draws and people being rude. After a 3-hour wait at home, I finally called the office and asked for Theresa since she hadn't called me yet.
She called me back and told me what I already knew: my labs were down, I think to a 27. I don't remember exactly how I responded on the phone. I remember choking up. I remember her saying she was very sorry. She told me they wanted another lab draw on Wednesday to make sure my levels were still going down for my safety. OK.
I got off the phone with her. I called AJ. I drove to the gas station and bought 2 packs of cigarettes and a 6-pack of beer. I drove back home, grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels and a shot glass, and headed outside on the patio. I started my journey through darkness. I listened to this, over and over again:
Momma T showed up out of no where and I cried to her. AJ came next. He took the bottle and glass away. I don't remember what happened after that. I think Momma T was there for a while before she had to go home to get ready for work. I don't remember dinner, and I don't remember that night. I remember there being a lot of blood, every trip to the bathroom. And I can bet I sat outside a lot smoking cigarettes and crying.
I didn't go to work Tuesday and Wednesday was my day off. My HCG was down to an 8 so they let me be. I never once saw a doctor aside from my on-call experience with Dr. B. No one offered to answer any questions, but I didn't have any. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to see that office or speak to anyone on the phone ever again.
Whenever I had thought of a miscarriage I had thought of it as a one day event. Like, one day there was a baby and then there wasn't. Bam, it was over, and you got to move on right away. No, that's not what it is. I wasn't ready for the drawn out process of a miscarriage. The days of blood, God, the blood. Every trip to the bathroom was like a stab in the heart. It rattled me every time. It felt like my failure. I wondered to God why was he punishing me. I asked him over and over what I did so wrong, why he would take my baby. Why was he punishing the baby and AJ for my wrongs? I was so hurt.
I had read on one of the websites that other women had planted butterfly bushes for their angel babies. AJ and I went to Menard's so I could find a plant to plant as a memorial for the lost baby.
I picked out this rose bush instead of a butterfly bush because for some reason it kept speaking to me. AJ let me pick out the spot in the backyard and he dug up the earth so we could give the rose bush a home. I found a stone at Menard's with a butterfly on it that said "Grown in Love" that I thought was perfect for the spot as well. AJ put a little fence up around the bush to keep the dogs out. I had a place to mourn, something tangible, somewhere to go to say goodbye.
I wrote about what was going on on Facebook, because I could no longer keep the pain to myself. I wanted to share what was happening to me, so people would know why I was so sad, and maybe in the future be a shoulder for someone else to cry on. People sent their prayers, I got some flowers in the mail. People texted to let me know they were thinking about me and AJ. Other women sent me messages telling me their story of miscarriage, women I never knew had miscarried to begin with. It was amazing, the outpouring of love.
The blood was slowing down. I went back to work Thursday. I was asked that day if I was able to do a D&C on a woman. A Dilatation and Curettage is a procedure done on women for menorrhagia to slow the heaviness of periods or on women who have miscarried to pull out retained fetal parts. I checked the age of the patient, she was 40, so I figured it was for a heavy period.
It wasn't. She had spontaneously aborted at 8 weeks a month before and the bleeding had never stopped. Also, she didn't want any general anesthesia. She was awake for the procedure and got a spinal instead. After we slid over to the bed, she started to cry and started to apologize. I held her hand and told her it was okay, that I had just lost a baby too, and she could cry if she needed to. I cried with her. She got to hear the suction machine turn off and on, but I didn't leave her side, and I didn't let go of her hand.
I was visibly shaken by the experience, it took everything I had to keep it together afterwards. The woman told the recovery nurse that she felt God had brought us together, to cry together and to understand one another. The rest of the day I was numb, I couldn't believe I had just come back to work and that was one of the first cases I did. I was angry and upset. My heart felt sorry for both me and my patient. I didn't know who I was angry and upset with. Looking back, I am angry and upset with myself for trying to be strong and test myself in a situation like that. It was too soon. I should have asked for another nurse instead of trying to be strong.
It still haunts me.
The loss of a baby, even an early one like mine that didn't require a D&C, was still earth shattering. I cried every day, sometimes multiple times a day. Several times AJ came home to me being in bed crying. I hated seeing pregnant women. I avoided them. When Allie told me she was pregnant and we would have been days apart, I was so conflicted. I was happy for her and yet I was wondering why God had taken my baby. Everyone seemed to think that just because I wasn't crying on the outside, that I had resolved everything on the inside and was okay. I wasn't. I was far from it.
I had written this in July, a month after the miscarriage, and just recently found it. I remember writing it because I needed to get my thoughts down. It's hard for me to read but I wanted to share how raw I still was:
when i picture it in my chest it is in pieces, and the chambers are out of order, and maybe that's why i feel so numb.
when i miscarried, i didn't want to hide it. it didn't feel like my failure at that moment, as it does now.
I was so angry, I wanted to be comforted. I wanted everyone to know my baby.
and WHY?! WHY.
since I miscarried I have had to take care of suction D&C patients, holding their hands and crying with them, even if I am hiding it from them. i feel like i can't be strong enough for them, and that i can't be strong enough for myself.
those brave, amazing women.
since I miscarried, people really cared and sent condolences, then found it perfectly acceptable to talk about pregnancy in front of me.
since I miscarried, I have never seen so many healthy baby bellies.
EVERYWHERE.
thank God for the secretary who asks, "Are you pregnant?" So I can reply, "I was." and let it cut me wide open all over again.
thank God I have so many people in my life that tell me how i should feel, how i should act, and what i should be doing.
You're grieving is unacceptable. You didn't even know It.
"It"
thank God I have people to tell me that since my baby was only 6 weeks that it wasn't really a "baby" and it didn't really "die". it probably wasn't even "real"...
....but i loved it....
thank God people expect the normal time to grieve over an unfinished baby is less than 3 weeks.
oh shit, times up.
thank God everyone is an expert on miscarriage.
oh wait, you haven't had one? then SHUT THE FUCK UP.
I was fine, when my world was a bubble of me and my husband and a rose bush in the backyard.
But life moves on, and people expect you to do so as well.
The bubble bursts, people aren't careful with your feelings anymore.
The world is mean, without trying to be.
Maybe the world thinks I am strong enough to take it,
since I don't burst into tears.
The world is not a nice place for loss.
and then it is just you and your grief, and no one understands. and you don't expect them to.
you've never felt more alone. and so lost.
and not even a glimmer of hope seems to shine light anymore.
Like I said, it hurts to read what I wrote, to see how long I was in that dark place. I was depressed. I didn't go anywhere. I didn't want to be around anyone. My only comfort was talking to other women who had experienced loss. On call I remember venting with a coworker whose choice to have children was taken from her, and who had experienced insensitivity as well. I found comfort in talking with her, I could be angry and I could let out the nasty feelings I had that felt like dark black vines growing inside of me, suffocating me from remaining unspoken.
THE RAINBOW
During the middle of July, I still hadn't had a period since the miscarriage. AJ had mentioned that I had started peeing a lot again. I hadn't noticed. I took a pregnancy test and there was the faintest of lines on it, too faint to be sure. I had found online that things could be jacked up for a while, so I didn't think too much into it.I sent an email to Dr. W explaining the lack of period and the faint positive test, telling her I was aware that I could still have HCG in my system that was creating a false positive.
She had me come in to get an HCG drawn again.
58...
Then a couple days later...
522...
2 more days...
1330
On July 22, 2011 we had an ultrasound to see what I was growing in my uterus.
What we saw was a small Lil Boop on the screen with a heartbeat. What we saw changed our lives forever.
What we saw was you, lil Wyatt J. And you saved me, my little rainbow baby.
February 16 is today, which was the Estimated Due Date of my angel baby. This morning I went and visited the rose bush (the same rose bush that bloomed during the heat wave and drought of the summer) and lit a candle. I played Adele's "One and Only" and cried while I thanked God for taking care of my baby and for giving me Wyatt.
This has been a work in progress, an ongoing entry that I have been writing in my head since the miscarriage. It was a story I always wanted to tell, but never wanted to face again. I have never written anything that evoked so much emotion. It was like losing and gaining all over again. But to tell it I can share it and let others know that there is hope after a loss. There are rainbows after the storm.
No comments:
Post a Comment