Sadness

This has been the worst week of my life.

Some people, including myself, have overused that sentence when they've had a rough run in with the boss or maybe a fight with a friend or whatever, but I swear I've got you beat. This week was literally a soul-crushing, heart breaking, living in a nightmare kind of week.

About 2 months ago I took a pregnancy test and saw that there was an extremely faint little line there... Brian and I are in the stage right now where we are ready to have kids and this was obviously an amazing thing. The line was so faint though that we weren't sure what to make of it, so I went to the hospital and got my blood tested for HCG and as it turned out - I was pregnant!

It was still very early on, not even 4 weeks pregnant at this time. I had to wait a grueling 4 weeks until I could go see the doctor and get this picture taken:

Here's our little gummy bear.

On this day we saw the heartbeat... what an incredible sound. It was going about 174 beats per minute which is normal and healthy for a baby at 8 weeks 5 days.

Little did we know that our baby was likely to die the very next day.

We were so excited to tell people about our pregnancy, telling family and friends slowly but surely. I wasn't keen on telling everyone right away but when someone notices a beer wasn't in my hand it got pretty obvious. So people started to find out. I got to tell all of my siblings in person, even Christian all the way in Seattle... Everyone knew about our special baby that was due on December 5, 2012.

Well this story doesn't have a happy ending. In what I thought was my 11th week of pregnancy I go to the doctor for a normal visit. Excited to hear any news about my baby, I don't even care that I have to go through a pelvic exam. The midwife puts the doppler on my stomach to hear the heartbeat... but couldn't find it. She asks if I've had any bleeding or cramping and I say that I haven't...

To put me at ease she says that babies move around a lot at this stage of pregnancy and it can be sometimes hard to find the heartbeat so I'll just go see an ultrasound tech just to be sure everything is going ok.

I started to panic a little. I texted my sister and said that I was probably freaking out over nothing but they couldn't find the heartbeat using the doppler... I told her I was waiting for the ultrasound and that I should look at this as a blessing in disguise because I'll get to see our baby again! I get into the ultrasound room where instantly my excitement turned to panic... what if they don't find the heartbeat? What am I going to do?
To be perfectly honest - at that point I thought if they couldn't find a heartbeat I would be suicidal... I was so scared and I was like - just get this thing going and let me see my baby's heartbeat already!

Unfortunately right away the ultrasound tech told me that she didn't see a heartbeat. I immediately started crying and screaming in a way that I can not even describe now. I put my hands over my eyes and just shook my head going "NO NO NO" while the tears rolled down my face. I saw my baby on screen and there was no flicker... no heartbeat.

I found out later that because of the size of the baby it probably died around 8 weeks and 6 days. Which was literally the day after we saw our baby for the first time. Which was the day I told my close friends at work, which was the day I sent texts to my family with a picture of our little gummy bear... she really looked like a gummy bear too with little arms and legs...

I was shuttled from room to room at that point, first to the room where I first met with my midwife. She and a nurse both offered me their condolances. I cried harder as they assured me that I did nothing wrong and that these things sometimes happen. I was ushered into another room where I met with a doctor... she told me that there was nothing they could do at this point, despite my pleading that there had to be something I could do to change this... She said that my best option for recovery was to do a D&C which basically means they go into my uterus with a spoon and scoop out the "product of conception" as the doctor so politely puts it. Go fuck yourself, doctor... that's my baby you're talking about.

The next 2 days are torture. I tell my friends and family via email what happened and I ask that I don't get texts or responses to the email. Nothing additional to remind me of the hell I'm living in. It is a nightmare and that's the only way to describe it.

At the hospital I called Brian at work and talked to the receptionist - I can only imagine what she was thinking when I could barely speak through my cries that I needed to speak to my husband right away. She gets him on the phone and I scream out in panic "they can't find a heartbeat!" which at that point no one had actually said the words to me "miscarriage" or "death", nothing concrete to really tell me what was going on... just that there was no heartbeat and that I could only infer that my baby wasn't going to be held in my arms ever.

As Brian calls me back and tells me he's on the way I say something that makes it click for Brian that our baby is gone. I don't remember what I said but only his response was "you mean we're not having a baby?"

Feelings at this point:
Ummm how do you describe your heart being eaten away bit by bit but also ripped out of your chest at the same time? That's what it felt like.

We both hug each other when we finally see each other probably an hour or so after the diagnosis. I of course am a blubbering pool of crying and he is stoic but I can tell there's pain. I know he's going through hell but he's only hearing this from me. I heard the news from doctors - I'm sure he doesn't know what to think coming from me. I told him that if I were in his position I'd demand to see an ultrasound to get the proof - to see that there is no flicker, because I so desperately need to see an ultrasound again to prove to myself that this isn't a giant mistake. How do I know that there wasn't something wrong with the machine?

Of course there isn't anything wrong with the machine... I am just looking for something to blame besides God or myself. As I break down the next two days I think of only two things:
-I can't wait to get this procedure over with so I can move on
-These are my last moments with my baby...

My mom took the day off of work on Tuesday and came down and spent the day with me and Brian. The day is a roller coaster of me feeling like I can laugh at something funny on TV but then crocodile sized tears start dripping from my eyes as I think of my reality.

How does this happen? Why does this happen? And why to me? What did I do wrong? I took the prenatals, I've been exercising and eating as healthy as possible. I want this baby! Why take her from me?

(At this time I break to note that both Brian and I felt very strongly that our baby was a girl. But it was too early to tell so we aren't 100% sure)

For surgery the next day I was instructed to not eat or drink anything after midnight. Well this proves to be difficult when you're dehydrated and want a sip of water or when that rumble happens in your stomach in the morning for cereal... so I jump in the shower and for some reason I decide since I have the time I'm going to shave my legs. Something I learned that most women don't do the day they're uterus is going to be scraped out - who knew? For some reason I thought I wanted to make myself as put together as I could because I knew at that moment I had the strength to take care of myself and other times I wouldn't have that same strength... for instance this morning all I did was take a bath and cry by candlelight.

I went into surgery - my first real surgery since my wisdom teeth extraction in high school - but I don't know if you can count that since I got to eat ice cream afterwords and pretend that the tooth fairy still existed to extort money from my mom. Of course I still get to eat ice cream but I get the feeling I'm sinking into a pit and so desperately don't want to let myself get to far down...

Back on track - I go into surgery - they wheel me on my little bed and I'm taken into the "holding area" where nurses and the anethesiologist surround me. I tell them to inform me if I should look away while they use my body as a pin cushion to insert IV's or what not. This part moves rather quickly - it wasn't like waiting for the dentist and you're like common I've been here for 15 minutes let's get my appointment on the road. I don't know if the time went fast because I was scared or sad or some crazy combination of the two. I am taken to the OR where I get onto another bed and told to position myself according to their rules. Almost simultaneously the anesthesiologist works his magic and I'm put under almost instantly.

At this point I certainly must thank modern medicine for the ability to knock someone out. I honeslty think that through time they've learned that a mother who has just lost her baby must be knocked out during this process even though I'm sure local anesthesia would do the trick. The sobbing might be a distraction for the surgeons.

After I wake up I'm surrounded by nurses. Their names I remember are Elizabeth and Ruth - Elizabeth I remember for obvious reasons, but Ruth because that was another option for my own name before I was born. They offer me their condolances and I try to cheer everyone up at this point by joking about Greys Anatomy or something like that... Waking up from anesthesia is always a little interesting in my 2 experiences. Both times I just wanted to talk almost just to hear the crazy stuff that comes out of my mouth. Kind of like that episode of 30 Rock where Liz meets her Future Husband (BEST EPISODE/CHARACTER EVER).

After the surgery I think whatever they put in my IV made me feel euphoric. Or as euphoric as one could feel in this situation. One of the drugs they gave me reduced my salivary secretions, and other secretions as well (read: tears). I couldn't cry the rest of the day. I literally thought it was so weird that I felt nothing inside, no pain... it was almost as if I had made up the whole story about me being pregnant and now the story was over. That's literally how detached I felt from reality. I knew of course what my reality was and why I felt that way in the first place and I kept wondering if I was going to feel pain again - I honestly thought if I can't feel pain then life isn't worth living. It sounds weird to say that but I'm really just trying to tell this story in it's entirety - while the feelings are fresh in my head. I though that if I couldn't feel the hurt about losing our baby then I was dead inside and I didn't know how to move on from that.

I couldn't cry the rest of the day.

In fact - I made jokes, I laughed with my best friend on the phone, I typed an entire email to my family letting them know exactly how fine I was and looking back I realize that the email must have sounded so cold or detached. I don't know... It was just a very weird feeling.

Of course that brings us to today - Thursday.

Feelings have returned. I'm not dead inside. But it does feel like a huge chunk of my soul is missing. Like it was ripped from my body and I have nothing but darkness left inside of me. I screamed "WHY" while kicking over my fan and slapping the walls with my hands.

I know this is all part of the grief process. I'm sharing this story because I'm not going to let miscarriage be a stigma anymore - at least not for me. The pain I'll carry for the rest of my life is going to be hard enough without having to keep it a secret. I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone. But I do want to extend a hand out to those that may be going through this experience. And maybe we can go through it together. We aren't alone in this... please reach out.