Miscarriage #1

Monday, July 7....I take a pregnancy test and get a faint positive. We're frantically scanning the instruction booklet for answers. What does this mean? Is the test defective? We finally gather from the verbiage that ANY positive sign means you are pregnant. We decide to run to the store to get another anyway. Pregnancy tests are like Pringles, you can't use just one. I go into the pharmacy, grinning like an idiot and pour over the pregnancy tests. I hate to pay for another brand name test when I already have one at home that tells me I'm pregnant. I consult the pharmacist, even though I know the answer.

"These are all the same, right? Because I have a positive one at home and I just want to double-check." I'm so freakin' excited that the first person I'm telling is the pharmacist, who could totally care less.

"Yeah, I think so, " she says (obviously an assistant). She turns to someone else in the back, "You used a generic one, right? And, you got good news with it." Sold.

We rush home and take the second test...also faintly positive. Hub is jumping up and down, I'm a little more reserved. He reasons that we must have JUST gotten pregnant. We only started trying a couple weeks ago, so the hormones are probably building up still. I'm thinking back to our first pregnancy and I think I remember the doctor saying that these tests detect the presence of the hormone, not the level. He is used to ignoring my killjoy rambling, so he goes to extract a date from the magical internet that can tell you wonderful things like when your baby will be due and...when you got pregnant...which is six weeks ago? Really? We weren't even trying then. Huh. We must be crazy fertile people. He makes a joke...something about how he's Chuck Norris and he can get his wife pregnant just by thinking about it.


Tuesday, July 8...I called my ObGyn as soon as they opened to make my first prenatal appointment and I was flying. Later that morning, I was sitting at my desk and I realized that my lower back was hurting. I Googled "ectopic pregnancy" because that was the first thing that came to mind. The symptoms didn't match, so I relaxed. After lunch, I was in the restroom and noticed a couple drops of blood. I thought it probably wasn't a big deal, but I snuck into an empty office and called the doctor, just in case. The nurse asked me a series of questions, but the one that stuck with me was, "Have you ever miscarried before?" Whoa, Lady. What, what?

She said she'd talk to the doctor and call me back. I hung up the phone and hurriedly Googled "miscarriage". When I saw bleeding and back pain in the same sentence, everything went fuzzy. She called back and said they wanted me to have blood drawn to see if it was a "viable" pregnancy and then perhaps an ultrasound. I didn't like that word and it set me off. I cried. Then, I called Hub and cried some more. He was pretty shocked and said he'd meet at the doctor's office. I needed to tell someone, so I drug a friend into another empty office and told her what was going on, while I cried even more. She tried to reassure me that everything would be fine.

At the doctor's office, I got my blood drawn and then we asked to speak to a nurse. I was a little annoyed that it hadn't occurred to them to sit down and talk to me. I asked her if there was anything we could do once a miscarriage started because I would rather they go ahead and do the ultrasound instead of waiting for test results. She said that nothing could be done and they might not even see anything on an ultrasound at this point; they wanted to confirm the pregnancy first. She said that spotting could happen with a normal pregnancy, but spotting this early wasn't a good sign. However, she quickly pointed out, maybe I have low progesterone and I'll just need to take a supplement, or maybe it is a UTI. There are a number of things that could be happening, but she was confident that it would be fine. So, she sent me home to spend the next 24 hours worrying. Oh, and then I'd need to go back and do another blood test so they could compare the results. So, that means worry yourself crazy for three days. Thanks.

She said to relax and "take it easy" until we got results. Yeah, right. However, we felt a little better knowing that there were innocent possibilities, so we invited my sister over for dinner. We couldn't resist telling her the "good" news and she squealed with excitement about a new baby. P's eyes lit up at the word "baby". "Where's the baby?" she asked. "In my tummy," I answered. She rushed over, lifted up my shirt, poked my bellybutton and said, "Where is it? Where is it?" We laughed, but now I know that was a silly conversation to have with her so soon. We were just so darned excited and hopeful. We did, however, decide to hold off telling the grandparents until we had absolute good news to share. We felt pretty confident that by Friday, we'd have answers and happy news.


Wednesday, July 9...I was at work when I got the call I was waiting for. Over the pounding of my heart, I heard solemn fragments from the nurse. Results from blood test #1: HCG of 19, Progesterone of 2.2. Both very low. HCG is supposed to be in the thousands for a 6 week pregnancy. They will retest tomorrow. HCG should double every two days in a normal pregnancy. The doctor does not expect them to go up. She thinks I'm having an early miscarriage. She expects me to start bleeding heavily soon. I cried and went home. I didn't want to be at work when the bleeding started.

Hub came home, too and we laid in the bed crying. I avoided going to the bathroom until it was critical and every time I held my breath waiting for the Awful Stuff to start happening. When I finally did see a couple more drops of blood, I showed it to Hub so that he knew I wasn't making it up, so that I knew I wasn't crazy, so that we were in it together. Up to this point, he was only hearing about it. Now he had evidence. But, he still thought things might be okay. I love his positive attitude.


Thursday, July 10...I went into the lab as soon as they opened to get my blood drawn again. I cried as she was doing it and she realized why I was there. She said that if I hadn't started bleeding yet, then maybe I wasn't having a miscarriage. I wanted to believe that. She said, "God is going to bless you with a son."

Before I left the building, I went into the ladies' room to compose myself. I didn't want to walk into work looking the way I felt. I wouldn't even have gone in except that I had a project due that day. And there, in the public restroom of the doctor's building, is where it started. When I saw all the blood, I started sobbing. Loud, embarrassing wailing, actually. I had brought pads, but I had still hoped that I wouldn't need them. I had tried to prepare myself for this moment, but it still hurt. Now that I knew the miscarriage was inevitable, I started to worry about HOW it would happen. Would this be painful? How long would it last? Would I need to have a D&C? I didn't know much about them, but it certainly didn't sound like fun. Would it go wrong and I wouldn't be able to have more children?

I called Hub to tell him. I could hear the disappointment and defeat in his voice. I tried to pretend that I was having a normal period, but each time the bleeding increased and it was impossible to ignore the truth. Then, the cramping started. My back was killing me, I had a monstrous headache and I spontaneously broke into sobs in my cube. I hadn't taken a shower and I was shuffling around bleary-eyed and distracted. I was sure that I could smell the blood just sitting at my desk. I knew people were looking at me.

I had to tell a manager that I needed to go home. I knew it would be unacceptable given that my project had to be completed, so I told her the truth, but didn't look her in the eyes once. I sobbed and she was sympathetic. She called a co-worker to help me finish so that I could leave. I said I was "sick" and I knew she was thinking that I was a slacker for leaving. There were some other people that needed to know I was leaving and I alternated between, "I'll fill you in later" and "I'm waiting on some test results". People in the hall would stop me and say that I didn't look good. They got a standard, "I don't feel well" but I'm pretty sure they didn't buy it. It was humiliating. And, I still ended up being there for several hours to get things in order. It frustrated me that I couldn't just walk out. I should have.

In the afternoon, I huddled in the dark office I'd been using for all of my clandestine phone calls and dialed the doctor. After being switched around and accidentally hung up on, I finally got a nurse who told me that yes, they did have my results, but I'd have to wait for this other nurse to call me back. I was so angry. I'm dying here. Yes, I know what is likely happening, but I would love to have someone call and fill me in on the details.

As I drove home, my cell phone rang. I pulled into a parking lot to take the news. It was my actual doctor, which I knew wasn't a good sign. She is so darn cheerful, which I normally love, but obviously wasn't in the mood for today.
"How are you doing?" she asked, drawing out the last word.
I drew a breath, "I've been better."
"Yeah, I suppose you are worried."
"Uh, yeah."
Results from blood test #2: HCG of 8. So, early miscarriage. She said it would be like a heavy period and that if I hadn't taken the pregnancy test, I might not have even noticed. I was a tad offended, but didn't mention the horrific cramps and backache. She said something like 30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage before 6 weeks. She asked if the test lines had been faint and I said "yes". She said if I took a test now, it would probably be negative. The good news, she said, is that they wouldn't need to do anything; it would take care of itself. And, we can try again next month, she said. Her last words were, "We'll be seeing you soon." As in, "Don't worry, you'll be pregnant again and everything will be fine."

I was relieved to finally have the answers, but emotionally wore out. I went to bed and stayed there. Hub picked up P from school and we let her lay in bed with us until my sister showed up with flowers and chocolate. She told P to "be nice to Mommy". P asked about the baby and we all looked at each other, then switched the subject. No sense trying to explain this to her, we thought. She'll eventually forget about the baby and stop bringing it up. We broke the news to our parents, but no one else would ever know about the baby that wouldn't be.

The next few days were full of tears and anger. For years, Hub had questioned spiritual influence and now he had proof, he thought. I had to admit that I harbored a lot of ill will toward God at that point, too. AND SO HELP ME IF ANYONE COMMENTS ON RELIGION...IT WILL BE DELETED. We had to warn our mothers that we did not want to hear anything even remotely resembling, "God has a plan". They had both been through this before during their child-bearing years, so I think it hurt them a lot to see us going through this.

I had trouble sleeping. From my journal: "My mind goes to bad places and I just want to stick sharp things in my eyes." Every time I thought I was doing better, something would set me off. My clothes fit better again...A pregnant lady or a baby book...and suddenly they were everywhere. No less than 10 people that I talk to on a regular basis were pregnant. One with twins. I've never known that many pregnant people before in my life--let alone all at one time. Life didn't seem fair. We were lonely and it seemed like no one cared about our pain.

Another journal entry reflected on my feelings of guilt and disappointment: "I had plans, damn it! And even as I went around blabbing about my "Spring baby" plans to anyone who'd listen, I knew there could be issues that might change those plans, but I was thinking we might not be able to get pregnant right away. I wasn't thinking "miscarriage". "

When I returned to work on Tuesday, I managed to tell a couple of people what had happened without crying, which I took as a good sign. I didn't want to have to retell the story, but I felt like I needed to justify my absence from work during a deadline and that made me feel guilty. At lunch, my friend talked about a friend that chain smokes during pregnancy and I got very angry. There are people that do everything right to protect their baby and end up losing them, but then there are people that don't seem to give a damn and do everything wrong and still get perfectly healthy babies.

On the way home, I felt like I needed to talk to someone. My husband, sister, mother and aunt didn't answer their phones. I started running down my list of friends and realized they were all pregnant. I didn't plan on telling them about the miscarriage because I didn't want them to worry them. I felt lonely and sad. I felt like something or someone was missing. But, how is that possible when I had only known about the baby for 24 hours. It wasn't moving or taking up space yet. Can you miss something that you never had? I didn't feel like I should be taking this so hard. All kinds of crazy thoughts went through my head. Is God punishing me? Why didn't we wait to take the pregnancy test?

We met with a nurse practitioner the next week. That appointment was originally scheduled to be my first prenatal visit, instead, I was going to talk about my dead baby. Even though I knew what she was going to say, I came prepared with a written list of things that I might have done wrong and I read each one and asked if that could have led to a miscarriage.

"Haven't had my teeth cleaned in 8 months? Squatting and being on my feet all day while shooting a wedding? Stress at my job?" She patiently listened to each one and shook her head. There is nothing I did wrong to cause this. We'll never know why it happened, but likely a "chromosomal abnormality", a phrase I heard a lot after the miscarriage. I'd never heard it before, but now I can say it three times fast.

I saved the most important questions for last. "What are the odds of it happening again?" She assured me that while miscarriages are very common, the odds of it happening again are very slim. "One in five pregnancies end in miscarriage, " she said. "This is your one." I kept repeating this phrase over and over. "This is my one. This is my one." It became my mantra when I was scared about the future. Later, it would haunt me.

The last question still weighs heavily on me. "When can we try again?" I had posed this same question to my doctor on the phone call that Ended It All. "Next month!" she had said without hesitation. The nurse practitioner was more cautious. "I would wait one or two cycles," she said. I remember exactly what she said because I wrote it down, but even then I knew I didn't want to wait. She told us that she had read a study that showed there was a "slightly higher risk" of having another miscarriage in the month after one. She handed me a pamphlet about miscarriage and sent us home with information about when I'd be ovulating for future reference.

The pamphlet said that you would likely be more fertile in the month after your miscarriage. It also said that while some people should wait to try again, some people may find that trying again helps them to overcome their pain sooner. Hub and I discussed all this at length and decided that we fell into the latter group. We kept hearing that this unfortunate situation was unlikely to repeat itself, so if that was the case, we might as well chalk this up to statistics and try for our "real" baby. We realized that in actuality, we may have to go through this again, but decided right there that we would not live our lives in fear. We would get pregnant and be happy about it, no matter how long it lasted. Easier said than done, of course.


We took comfort in our beautiful daughter and eventually gained some perspective. If we are never able to have more children, we would happy with the one we have, we said. Still, I'm a person that journals almost daily, but after July 15, my journal remains painfully empty for 5 weeks, until...