Missed Miscarriage Continued

Thank you to everyone who reached out following my miscarriage blog. I greatly appreciate all of you who took that time to send me your love, good wishes and especially those that shared your experiences. Listening to other women telling me their stories actually helped me, I had someone I could ask questions when I was uncertain, so I feel sharing my own story could help someone else or even just help someone realize they weren’t alone in their own experience. So.. let’s go. The story didn’t end that day..

October 5th, the day that I shared my last blog post, I returned to the doctor who had received my ultrasound results. Rob drove me in and stayed in the truck. The doctor walked in and told me I miscarried before he even sat down.. may as well just get that out of the way. Since I already knew I didn’t cry this time, bit of a pat on the back, less awkward for both of us. He confirmed for me what I had researched, that I had a missed miscarriage’ and then gave me my options. I could wait to see if it passes naturally, I could take the pills or I can schedule a D&C (for those that don’t know, as I didn’t, that is a Dilation and Curettage, a procedure to remove tissue from the inside of the uterus). I asked his opinion and he said I can wait another week but if it doesn’t pass, I’ll need to do something else and said the pills are often chosen as the woman has control of when it happens. Seeing as I was told almost three weeks ago that I may have miscarried, I was tired of waiting for my body to move on. The doctor agreed with the pill route, wrote up my prescription, told me I “insert” them every six hours for a total of 24 hours (I have never inserted in my life.. but for anyone who really wants to understand this process… reach out) and said there may be cramping and will be bleeding up to 2 weeks. Got it. So away I went, got in the truck and had yet another meltdown on Rob. Apologized again for this happening and he yet again told me to stop apologizing, I’m very Canadian… We agreed I would do pills that day while he’s home and hope that I was up and better before he returned to work. We went to the pharmacy and he offered to go and drop off my prescription and grab me some pads.. I haven’t used pads since my kid was born and I think the hospital gave them to me so I didn’t even have advice for him on what to buy lol luckily the pharmacist was a woman and sensed he was confused and helped him out. I took my first four pill dosage at 10:30 and laid on the couch with my laptop, I hit “publish” on my last blog post informing everyone I had miscarried and then I got back to work. Rob asked me a few times if I was feeling anything and I kept saying no, a minor cramp here or there but nothing major, no bleeding yet. Around 1:00 I started to have an upset tummy and had to use the bathroom so I got up and went upstairs. Everything hit me all at once at that point.. I was sitting on the toilet, then I started throwing up in the garbage can, then I started shaking because I was cold, my vision got blurry a few times. I had no idea what was going on. After I threw up I just sat there. I grabbed my phone and had someone from work texting me asking for stuff and I can remember trying to process what they were asking, and it was like my brain was working in slow motion. I was trying to grasp what he was needing me to do and then it’s like a light switch went off in my brain and I clued in, “Omg, I am having a miscarriage” and I had to tell him I can’t help him and he needs to go to someone else.. the first time in my career I have turned down work and I still felt guilty about it while I am stuck in my bathroom, life of a woman I guess. Finally, I texted Rob and said I won’t be able to get back downstairs and to bring me my work computer, Advil and a bowl to throw up in. I finally got myself up and to bed, still no bleeding at this point, but the cramping was becoming very severe. He arrived with all my requested goodies and I explained what all had happened in the last ten minutes. In bed I was curled up and all I could do through the cramping was shut my eyes really tight and I kept saying “it hurts it hurts it hurts”. My doctor said I would have cramping and bleeding like a period but I barely ever cramp and my periods are three days.. I wasn’t mentally prepared for this. Although I had researched this regularly for two weeks and I read that your body basically goes through labour, I didn’t process this in the moment. It wasn’t until the next day I realized this was exactly like labour. I went to the bathroom, the cramps started, I kept saying it hurt it hurts it hurts.. everything made sense in hindsight. But in the moment, I wasn’t understanding, I just knew my body was in pain and I didn’t know how long it would last because I still had three more inserts to go. I asked Rob to stay with me for a bit and he pulled out his phone and researched potential side effects of the prescription and sure enough, I experienced all of them. Because of the chills he got me a heating pad which also helped for the cramps, and I sent him on his way because there was really nothing he could do for me while I kept moaning through cramps/contractions as my body was trying to push out whatever needed to get out. I popped a couple of Advil and after some time the pain lessened, and I eventually passed out from it for a couple of hours. I woke up and started googling more about these pills, fearful about what will happen on the next dosage. It was a difficult task to Google “will dose 2 hurt as much as dose 1?” and didn’t really show me anything, but sadly I saw that this pill was also known as an abortion pill.. what a terrible feeling. I wanted a baby and now I’m aborting a baby according to the web. After I shook that thought out of my head I decided to get up and go to the bathroom to check myself out. The bleeding started, as did the passing of blood clots, which thankfully I was expecting from my recent research. I’ll fast forward the rest of the 24 hour experience, Mackenzie came to cuddle now and then because I was “sick”, I felt the gestational sac come out before bed time, I did all my dosages, took more Advil, barely got any sleep and finished the last of my prescription at 10:30 the next morning. The third and fourth dosages didn’t come with any pain thankfully, 1 was the worst with the contractions and 2 was very minor, but it was finally over. I stayed in bed all day, didn’t have any energy to work until calling into a meeting at 3pm, and didn’t leave our bedroom for over 24 hours. I finally walked downstairs for dinner Tuesday evening but ended up feeling so yucky I went straight back up afterward to rest. Rob was scheduled to leave Wednesday so I wanted to rest a bit more before becoming the adult again. Wednesday morning I started walking around while he packed and after he left I was back to the couch and working again. I’ll admit it wasn’t easy, physically or emotionally, and the first week I cried every single day for at least five minutes when I was alone, but the fact that he left forced me to push through quicker than I may have had he been home. I didn’t have a choice, I had a kid to take care of and animals to watch, I couldn’t stay locked up in a dark bedroom feeling sorry for myself watching Schitt’s Creek (which I binged during this journey by the way, highly recommend it if you haven’t seen it).

The next week I went to an ultrasound as requested. My doctor told me I would need a scan a week after I took the pills for them to check that everything passed through and then I was to go and see him again. On October 13 I go in expecting a quick and easy belly scan and be on my way. The receptionist takes me to the back and hands me a gown.. pardon? What is this ugly thing you are handing me? I usually go in room, belly scan, go pee to empty my half assed attempt at filling my bladder 20 minutes before hand (I had a very bad experience with following the rules with pregnancy #1 so after that lesson learned; I’m a rule breaker), take off pants and do an internal, but this time I was told this was only a belly, NOT an internal.. I was so confused. I looked at it and didn’t even know what to do. So.. I stood there awkwardly and just waited for someone to retrieve me and then apologized 8 times because I didn’t know what to do or why. She was very polite lol. (side note: this gown story literally has nothing to do with anything, I’m just using it as a minor distraction from all the serious stuff!) But although she was polite, she did inform me we would be doing an internal, which made no sense to me why I would be told to book a week after the procedure when it is known that women could bleed for 2 weeks. But anyway.. I lucked out with only 5 days so I agreed to the stupid internal, yet again, this is now the third time in three weeks I’ve had to do this so I’m getting a bit tired of being poked at by strange women but tell myself this is the last time. So this gal does her thing, tells me I’m good to go and they’ll send my results to the doctor and we part ways. I then call my doctor’s office and ask if I’m supposed to go back or if we can do a phone call. Receptionist isn’t really into me or my charm, says I must come in. I explain I don’t want to drive half hour each way for something that can be done on the phone, she doesn’t care about my problems and books me an appointment for Friday. Very well, we aren’t friends clearly.

On Wednesday I start losing my voice. Ugh. So many plans for this weekend, lunch with one gf and a roadtrip to Saskatchewan with another. I’ve been so looking forward to all of this, it’s been a long year not seeing coworkers, having Rob gone more than not, a lot of work being the mom and the animal carer, etc. I was desperately needing some “me” time for more than a couple hours and couldn’t wait to get away. But once my voice started going I had to be honest and warn my friends because it’s a tricky time, I was 100% symptom free but my voice sounded like I was diseased. My lunch date couldn’t risk getting sick because she had returned to work, understandable and then my prairie gf and I were going to play it by ear. On Thursday my doctor office called to confirm my appointment for Friday and I sounded worse than the day before and decided I probably shouldn’t go in sounding like I had the vid, so I explained I will need to reschedule but since this was another gal I asked if we can just do a phone call appointment. She agreed with me (she wanted to be friends I guess) and said she would check with the doctor and let me know. Yahoo. But… on Saturday, after I cancelled my trip away because I still sounded like I was going through puberty and didn’t want my friends to worry for their immune systems, my doctor called me directly and said to call Monday because he needs me to come in. Great. That can’t be good.

Monday October 19th, I phoned at 8 and got an appointment for 1:00. Rob was home from work so wanted to accompany me. Since I knew this would be a quick appointment, I wasn’t expecting too much from it and thought I would be home within an hour. Well.. no. Turns out they were running almost 2 hours behind so poor Rob got a lot of angry texts from me while I ranted to him from the waiting room, I had to cancel a meeting, my non-friend receptionist wasn’t very friendly with me when I asked her if the schedule is running behind, etc. Needless to say… I’m grumpy with the logistics of this day on their behalf lol. When I finally get into my little room, where I wait another 20 minutes, the doctor walks in and hands me a piece of paper to read. First of all.. I don’t know what these words mean. Second of all.. you can’t talk to me while you expect me to read these foreign words sir. So, after what felt like a long awkward moment of me not knowing what the hell I was doing, he informed me that the ultrasound shows not everything passed through. What. The. Fword. I went through hell on those pills. He explains there’s a small amount left over, about a centimeter. Options are pills or D&C. Are you high? I told him I am not taking those pills again and he asked me if they hurt; umm ya.. meanwhile I’m thinking “thanks for the warning on that by the way”. He checked the calendar and saw it had been a week since my ultrasound and then seemed hopeful that maybe that centimeter of whatever passed naturally since then. Ya ok. He send me away to book another scan saying if it comes back all clear we can talk on phone and if not I have to come in to fill out paperwork and book surgery. Ok 👍

Luckily I got an appointment the next day for an ultrasound. Again.. handed a gown. Dammit. This time I agreed to the process, dropped my pride and asked twice how to put it on. The same tech who did my initial scan and tried to explain to me that I may not have a baby was the lucky one to look at my you-ha today.. congrats. She tries to figure out why I’m even there, you and me both sister, and I explain my doctors thought process and that we are looking to see if there are any changes. I try to sweet talk her into telling me if she can see anything and explain I’m trying to avoid an hour trip and she professionally says she can’t tell but suggested I go see him anyway. I picked up her dropped hint. Again, I’m told “you’re good to go”, I guess that’s the common line to get rid of you, and I go to car and head out. I call the doctor, from my recent calls because we are very close this month it seems and explain to my non friend receptionist that I would like to avoid driving in for nothing (I should explain, I’ve missed hours of work between mental health days, physical health days and appointments, so I am making up time when I can and feeling guilty and trying to avoid more missed time). She agreed to make me an appointment for Thursday and said when she will check my scan and call me the next day if I need to come or not (miracle, friends on). Anyway. As you can guess from my ultrasound hint, I was called and told I had to come into book surgery (friends off, just kidding). Rob was just getting ready to leave for the airport at this time and I bawled to him, I was so scared, I reached out to a girlfriend and asked her about her experience with it and she reassured me it’s quick and painless and more importantly it’ll all be over with. But the fact that I will have to be put to sleep is terrifying to me. I have never had a surgery beyond wisdom teeth, and cried then also. The only time I’ve been in a hospital is a broken foot and having a baby. I was scared and sad and Rob kept telling me he will be here no matter what, it’ll hopefully be booked when he’s home but if not, he will do what he can to make it home.

We are over 5 weeks since finding out we may have miscarried. 5 weeks! I’m no expert but I feel this is an abnormal amount of time. It’s possible I have been dealing with this phase longer than I dealt with the pregnancy phase, let’s be real here. It’s ridiculous..

So yesterday I go in and my doctor again hands me this stupid piece of paper to pretend to read while I wait for him to just tell me what he wants to say. He confirms I still have tissue in me that needs to come out before it causes infection. Immediately he gets his phone out and starts phoning the hospital to book me in for Saturday. What?? That’s less than two days away, Rob just left yesterday, what am I going to do. He then took off his mask for the first time to talk better and I am shocked and confused that my doctor is now ten years younger than I thought he was, so I’m really trying to keep my thoughts on track between his new age and this Saturday surgery. Once he gets off the phone he tells me I need to be at the hospital by 6:30 on Saturday. I responded with “holy shit” and explain I don’t even have anyone that can take me there. Husband is gone (then have to explain to him why as he seemed concerned that we are in different provinces), parents need to watch my child, so I ask if I can drive myself, which he laughed and said no as he’s tried before. Long story short, I’m told to figure it out because this is a guarantee day where a weekday is not. Got it. So away I go back to my car to call Rob and cry, yet again, I’m becoming the neediest wife. He tells me he will get home and I kept saying apologizing for it. That’s all I really remember of that conversation, me being sorry and him telling me to stop saying that. I felt terrible that he just got to work and had to turn around and book another flight to get here. But he insisted and will arrive tonight.

So that’s where we are now, tomorrow morning I will be going in for this ‘simple’ procedure to get the remaining parts out of my body. I am still terrified, I’ve connected with a few people since then that have gone through this and say it’s easy peasy, but I’m still scared. Overall though I just want this over with, it’s been such a long haul. I want to be able to get on with my life.

I read a really great blog from a woman who had miscarried and it was about how people seem to judge your miscarriage based on how far along you were, it pissed me off because it’s sometimes true. I have even downplayed for myself how this makes me feel, I have turned away resources that have been sent to me because I was “just” _ weeks, (I have to put a blank because I don’t know when I lost the chance to become a mother, I know it was gone by the 2 month mark though). But overall, it’s terrible to downplay a loss because of how other people think. It’s terrible to think that my loss is irrelevant or less important because I didn’t carry a baby as long as someone else. Do we determine who deserves to be sadder about a loss based on the circumstance? If someone died in a fire versus died by natural causes, is that more reason to be sad? If someone got a divorce after three years versus twenty years, does that mean its no big deal? Everyone experiences loss, hurt, heartbreak, in their life and none is better or worse than the next persons. Comparing experiences is wrong in my opinion, and impossible because we all react to things differently. I’ve had so many people tell me I’m strong, I’ve been through a lot in my life, that I’m tough, but I think I appear that way because I have conditioned myself to downplay. I cover them because I feel there are other people that have it worse than I do. And even though I am aware that I do that, I’ll probably continue to do that because I’m used to it. I downplayed my divorce because we weren’t married that long. I downplayed my grief when my brother died because he was only my half-brother and my sister lost her husband and my dad lost his son. I’ve even downplayed my accomplishments and say it’s not a big deal, other people have done better.

It’s really not our fault we compare experiences, it could just be that we don’t understand how people feel or what they are going through, I know for a fact that I didn’t understand miscarriages and I was that person who would think ‘oh it’s not that bad, they were only in their first trimester’ but now that I am standing here, now that I have been through it, it is bad. We bonded as a family about this, we were excited about this, all three of us. We were looking forward to having a baby, we were making plans for a baby, we were shopping for a baby. Never would I have imagined losing a pregnancy, my whole life I have been very fortunate in the medical department. But here we are. Now I have an understanding of how I was clueless to this whole concept and to other people’s feelings.

A few days after I took the pills, my emotions were extremely out of whack. I would snap at Mackenzie quickly because I didn’t have the patience to just work with her. One morning I snapped and I felt so guilty I had to walk away and just be by myself and try not to cry for being a shit mom. Whenever this happens, I go to my room and sit in my chair by the window and just take a breather. Mackenzie was crying in her room and then came to see me. She crawled on my lap and looked at me and I apologized to her and said that I am still sick. She looked at me with so much concern I could see the wheels turning in her head. She asked, “you’re still sick?” and I said yes, again the wheels are turning. Now I am thinking she is worried about me and I finally felt that push in my heart to tell her. So, I asked her if she remembers about the baby and she responded with “the baby is in your tummy!” and starts patting it. Through my tears I explained to her that the baby is not in my tummy anymore, that the baby died and is now in Heaven with God and is an angel now. Because of the angels that we talk about every night at bedtime, I explained that this baby is now another one that will come and visit her while she sleeps. She listened to me the whole time and I cried while I explained it to her in a way she could understand. She looked at me the whole time, gave me a hug and then wiped my tears and said, “no more crying”. I explained to her that I am sad and that’s okay and she can be sad too and we will feel better one day. Out of nowhere she said, “let’s pray” and I laughed and thought what a perfect way for this four-year-old to end this conversation. I wasn’t even sure if I was ever going to tell her but my heart pushed and she took it so well. She never asks to pray outside of the bedtime zone so the fact that she said it to me at 8:00 in the morning was a definite sign from God that I did the right thing.

Tomorrow should be the end of this chapter as I go to the OR and have this procedure done and I can honestly say I am eager to turn the page and just open a new chapter for all of us. We don’t know what the future holds, I still don’t know what the lessons were here, but I know I have a deeper appreciation for my daughter who I get to hold every day, who found it in her little heart to wipe away my tears while I cried to her and who makes me thankful every day that I have this life I have.

I’ve had so many men reach out to me and tell me their wives went through loss 20+ years ago and it still hurts, so I know from their shared experiences that I will always remember this, but I am grateful for my life, I thank God every night for what I have been given and I have an angel on earth and one in Heaven who will always hold my heart. I am thankful that I have a man who stood beside me the whole time and didn’t hesitate to turn himself around a day later and come home to be with me for the procedure and the healing period. I am thankful for all those around me who have sent me a message or even who gave me a heart on Facebook, it shows that I have a huge support system and I appreciate that so much.

So finally, thank you all for reading, thank you all who reached out, thank you all who shared experiences and thank you for not being afraid to talk about pregnancy loss. It’s important, it’s real. Take care friends