Our Second Miscarriage

The bleeding and cramping only progressed.  It started around 1 p.m. that Sunday, and by 4 p.m., had intensified significantly more.

We phoned the “on-call” doctor at our practice, who just happened to be our doctor that weekend. She tried to calm me down, explaining that many women bleed during pregnancy, especially early on, and they go on to deliver a healthy baby.  My husband tried to calm me down too; he said things were different this time, and that we weren’t going to lose this pregnancy like the last.

It didn’t really matter what anyone said, because as a woman, you know your body.  You know the difference between a bleed that doesn’t threaten the pregnancy continuing, and a bleed that means it is over. This bleed was not normal in any which way.  Our doctor told us that if the bleeding continued to worsen, and we needed peace of mind, we could go to the ER.  Or we could just wait until the next day and go in to her practice.

Well, the bleeding turned to heavy clotting, and by 6 p.m. we were at the ER.  They drew my blood right away to get a current beta status.  The beta came back within an hour around 5,000, which was an increase from the last one we had, but still not very high for almost 6 weeks.  Right after they drew my blood, I passed large amounts of what appeared to be tissue.  I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

The ultrasound tech came in and nothing could be seen on the scan.  More devastation.  With beta’s that high, why couldn’t she see anything? Even just a sac? In my heart I knew then and I still know now, it was too late. What little was there to begin, had just been lost minutes after they drew my blood, and minutes before the scan. How do I know you ask? If you have been through a loss like this, you know the exact moment you lose the life that’s growing inside of you.  It’s just like knowing you are pregnant, you just know. So, it didn’t matter what any doctor, nurse, or sonographer told me; I knew it was over, and I knew when it ended.

They kept me in the ER until about midnight or so.  I didn’t want to get up anyways.  For what? To face the fact that it was over? To go out into the world that I hated for being so cruel to us? To go back to normal day to day life and pretend everything was OK? I kept thinking this had to be a nightmare.  It truly felt like it.  My husband sat next to me the whole time, and he couldn’t really say much. What is there to say anyways?

I went to our doctor the next morning for more blood work and another ultrasound.  Believe it or not, she was still hopeful, and so was he.  She said there was a”possibility” it was too early to see the sacs and/or babies.  She firmly believed it was twins, and with twins it can take a little longer to see things, even with high betas.

The beta came back that night at 1,700 with an, “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but you have lost the pregnancy.”  At that moment, I felt everything inside of me, all of the blood, sweat, and tears, rush to my face.  I hung up the phone with her and lost it.  My husband was still working.  I fell on the floor and just cried like a baby.  And I yelled out at God, “WHY???” over and over again.  How could this even be happening? It wasn’t fair!!! All of the years.  All of the trying.  All of the time.  All of the effort.  All of the sacrifice.  All of the hope.  All of the joy.  All for nothing, except another loss; another scar.

When he got home, we were silent.  We just laid and cried.  There wasn’t much to say.  The only thing I asked him to do was to put away anything that had to do with this pregnancy-all the positive tests, medications, calendars, books, pictures, receipts, all of it.  I hated it all.