Originally Written on 2/4/15

Miscarriage #3

So, by now you may have already guessed what happened at our 10 week appointment today.
I woke up early as I usually did to make it to the 7:30 a.m. scheduled ultrasound. This was the 1st ultrasound appointment I would be going to alone. 

When I woke up, it was the 3rd day in a row that I had 0 pregnancy symptoms. I felt like everything had been stolen from me, yet I still tried to keep my faith. 

 I got in my car and turned on the radio. Immediately the song, Oceans, Where Feet May Fail by Hillsong United came on. https://youtu.be/dy9nwe9_xzw
I started bawling my eyes out. If you haven’t heard this song, it’s a Christian song about keeping the faith and trusting God through the hardest times of your life. Ironically, I had heard this song the exact day we had our 2nd miscarriage. And here it was, playing again as I drove to my appointment. I knew right at that moment, without doubt, that this pregnancy was over. I just didn’t understand why. My heart ached.
Within minutes of arriving, I got my vitals taken and was in the ultrasound room. I briefly informed the nurse of how I had been feeling the past 3 days. She started the scan, I took a deep breath, and as always, I looked the other direction. I couldn’t even stand the thought of seeing her face when she told me. Seconds of silence turned into minutes of silence. More confirmation that it was over. When nothing is wrong, it only takes seconds to locate the heartbeat and turn that screen to the proud parents. Not today.
Everything I prayed so hard against was coming true. Again. Every time I told myself to fight off those negative thoughts. Every time I believed people telling me this was the time, this was our year. Every time I thought we would defy the odds. Every time, I was wrong. And my heart ached.
Finally, the nurse who had been by our side for over a year now, pulled out the wand without saying a word. I turned and looked at her. She was crying. I blurted out “WHAT?” rudely. 

 She whispered, “I’m so sorry. There was no heartbeat today.”

I immediately demanded she show me. Let me see it with my own eyes! I thought. And so she did. I saw our sweet little angel, who was now in heaven. The heartbeat was gone, along with any flow of blood through the tiny body that had so wonderfully formed.

I sat up. She hugged me. Then she angrily said, “Why does this keep happening?!” I hadn’t shed a tear yet or spoken a word other than my nasty “what?” a few minutes earlier. I just stared blankly. I couldn’t speak because I felt like someone had ripped out everything inside of me. 

 She asked me to please wait for the doctor to come in at 9 to confirm. It was only 7:45. I said OK. Then she told me to just stay in the room and wait. This was not the norm, as the practice is very busy, and they only have 2 exam rooms… hence, rooms are golden. Not today.

 Today I sat in the same room for over an hour without moving. Everyone else would just have to wait. I didn’t care, and surprisingly the staff didn’t either.
Another nurse came in to take my blood. The anger had turned to despair and I was now sobbing uncontrollably. She told me I had to call my husband. I didn’t want to. I refused to tell my husband that we lost another child. This has to be a nightmare right? I was going to wake up any moment! 

 The doctor came in next. She performed another ultrasound. I heard her and the nurse speaking as they were pointing, but it was all a blur. I looked at the screen one last time because I knew that would be it; my good-bye

 The doctor confirmed we had lost the baby. She diagnosed it a missed miscarriage. No bleeding. No cramping. No shortened cervix. No nothing. The life inside of me had just stopped living.
She gave me our options next. 1.) Miscarry naturally. This could take weeks, or even longer since I was only a few days short of 10 weeks. 2.) Take Misoprostol orally and miscarry at home. She recommended against this, again since I was further along it would be “very uncomfortable,” or 3.) Have a d & c in two days at the hospital under general anesthesia. I scheduled the d & c.
I called my mom & asked her to come get me. I couldn’t drive. The doctor and nurse walked me out. They hugged me, and kindly told me to stop taking all my medications right away, especially the blood thinner, since I would now be undergoing surgery in 2 days.
I stumbled out to my car and dialed my husband as I waited for my mom to arrive. All I heard him saying was, “NO, NO, NO,” over and over again.

38 thoughts on “Originally Written on 2/4/15

  1. This made me tear up. I’m so sorry for your loss(es); you don’t deserve to have gone through this even once, let alone three times. I know that today is so hard for you. Praying for strength and comfort for you on this very sad anniversary. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My heart broke for you when I read this in more ways than one. First because no one should have to go through a miscarriage, let alone 3. Second because I too have lived that story and so I know how your heart was breaking. Same thing happened to us on the 3rd baby, I too was alone at the appointment. My husband also just kept repeating “no”. I know exactly what you meant when you said it felt like you were empty. That feeling of someone having ripped out your entire insides. I am so sorry and I wish you strength on the next part of your journey. But for now, we remember. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I am sorry 😦 The anniversaries just stink. Unfortunately I know too well how it feels to be in that ultrasound room and getting that bad news. It’s a freakin nightmare. It truly is. I know I can’t do much but I’m sorry you’ve experienced this too.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. A year ago I was going through my first IVF, the anniversary hurts/haunts me so much as I remember all the hopes and anticipation. I remember reading this post a year ago too. It broke my heart then and it still breaks my heart today. It’s not fair… Sending lots of positivity on this difficult day. I share your pain in hopes it hurts a little less. Hugs!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I am so, so sorry that you had to experience that horrible moment alone. You are one million times stronger than I am. Having had that exact experience on that exact same table I cannot imagine the strength it took to wait for Dr. M to arrive. I know that you will have amazing moments to come in that room too : )

    Liked by 1 person

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