My Story

***Disclaimer: This story is 100% true. This is the story of my miscarriage, which took place on Friday, August 14th, 2009. It is graphic. I am sorry, but I this is how I needed to write it. I need to remember the experience I really want to forget. But I never will. Someday I will understand. Someday. Until then, I feel the urge to share my story with everyone. To make it known that others who have gone through this are not alone. I wrote this with urgency. I have only been home from the hospital for 4 hours, and yet I spent the last 2 writing this.***

Miscarriage: Through My Eyes
The Hospital

Sitting on the toilet, staring into my underwear. Oh man, not again. This is the 3rd day in a row with heavy bleeding. This can’t be normal. But I just went to the doctor’s and everything was fine. Yes, but I wasn’t bleeding this much either. Even my hubby says something about it. He wonders if I will still be alive when he gets home seeing as how much I am bleeding. Ok, I’ll call the nurse.

On hold. Seriously, do they always take this long? My poor daughter has been watching Dora the Explorer all morning and being neglected by her bleeding mother. I’m sure she doesn’t mind though. Finally, a person. Wrong person. Transferred 3 times and telling my symptoms to 3 complete strangers. A real nurse. She wants to look something up, so she puts me on hold. Can’t they have some better music? She’s back. Tells me I need to go to the emergency room. I ask her to repeat that because I swear she just told me to go to the emergency room. Oh yes, it’s true. ER. I’ve never been to the ER before. I’ve seen it on TV…does that count?

Call my husband. He just barely got to work. I tell him he needs to take me because that’s what the advice nurse said. Says he needs to finish up something and he’ll be right here. Poor guy. Had a bad night of sleep and now he drove down to work for practically nothing. Waiting. Dora still plays in the background. Maybe I should pack some stuff? Diapers and wipes. Sippy cup of juice. Snacks. Should I bring a book? A toothbrush? A change of clothes? No, I probably won’t be there very long. Cell phone. Purse. Wallet. I think that’s everything I’ll need. Hubby gets home. We get in the car and drive. Cramps. Hurting a little more than normal. The nurse I talked to a month ago said even cramps are normal. Well cramps maybe, but blood clots the size of ping pong balls? Maybe not so much.

No place to park. Hubby drops me off and heads off with our daughter to park while I check in. Seems pretty slow. Nothing like the ER’s I have seen on those medical shows. I give a bunch of personal answers to another complete stranger. Sent to waiting room 2. Daughter is crying because hubby just showed up and she seems to think we are at the doctor’s for her and she will be getting shots. I try to calm her down with a peanut butter and jelly. It works. They call me back. Pronounce my last name wrong. Send me to a room. An all-white sterile room. I forgot to ask if my hubby and daughter can come back. They do. Nurse asks me even more questions. Tells me to undress from the waist down and put a sheet over my lap. I worry about getting blood on the table but there is a pad meant for soaking up liquids I sit on. Bleeding seems to stop. Daughter keeps crying every time someone walks into the room, thinking it’s the doctor coming to get her. Poor thing. Traumatized. Hubby is hungry so I tell him to take her to get something to eat so then maybe she will stop crying. She blows me a kiss bye bye with tears in her eyes. I want to tell her everything will be ok, but even I don't know if it will.

Now I wait. Why didn’t I bring a book? Still waiting. I shift to get more comfortable when it happens. A little gush of blood comes out. No biggie. Then another gush. And another. And another. Hmm this seems like a lot of blood. But still I sit, being a good girl. Finally I can’t take it. I want to see if someone is coming soon. I stand up to clean myself off a little. I look back at the giant pool of blood I have been sitting in. Wow. Is there any blood left in my body? This really doesn’t seem normal. I open the door to ask the nurse when the doctor is coming, but no one is there. By now, there is blood running down my legs and on the floor. What a mess. I try to clean it up but because I am still bleeding, it gets worse. I decide to sit back in my Olympic size pool of blood. There are now blood stains on the sheet draped across my lap and a trail of blood on the floor. Still, I wait. The doctor and a nurse finally come in. I apologize for getting blood on the floor. She apologizes for taking so long to get to me. Tells me to lay back and my legs go in their holsters. Nurse takes one look and asks if she wants the doctor to get her a bucket. A bucket?? Am I going to bleed-out in front of these people? The doctor tells me she is going to insert the speculum. I hate this part but tell her ok. I wince. Not comfortable. She pokes around down there for a minute. I keep thinking that I just want her to tell me straight out what’s going on, but I don’t have the courage to ask her that. Finally, she speaks. Says that unfortunately, I am miscarrying. Miscarrying. Funny word. Did I somehow carry my baby wrong? Baby. There is a baby in there I will never know. I start to cry. I am mad at myself for crying because I had a feeling about this.

Flashback: My mom and I were in Utah at the store. We pass the baby stuff. My mom wants to stop and look, but I don’t. Why don’t I want to look? I don’t know, I just don’t feel like it. Feeling like something was wrong, I couldn’t even get excited about this pregnancy from the beginning.

Flash forward: was my intuition telling me something? Or was it because I had those negative thoughts in the first place that this even happened? Did I do something wrong? Why me? No medical problems, no history of miscarriages, nothing. 22 years old and perfectly healthy. Why me?

I continue crying. The nurse hands me a tissue. Doctor continues poking away and I continue wincing in pain. Doctor finishes and tells me I will need a DNC. Wait a second, DNC? That sounds like the abbreviation we use at church for the book of scriptures called Doctrine and Covenants (D&C). What is this DNC thing? It’s surgery. Surgery?? I have never had surgery in my life. Doctor tells me risks but says they are small compared to what could happen if I don’t have it and get an infection from the leftover baby stuff. They actually would scrape out my insides while I peacefully slept. All I could think about was that movie “Awake.” Would the anesthesia go wrong and I would be awake and feel everything but be completely paralyzed to stop it? I’m so nervous I forget for awhile that I am not pregnant anymore.

They leave me to wait while they get my admitted and find me a bed. I lay there staring at the all white ceiling, cell phone in hand, ready to call my husband. I call him but I can’t get the words out. They are blocked by tears. I get mad at myself again for being such a wimp. He finally arrives. I hear him coming because Peyton is crying mama, mama. She wants me to hold her but I can’t. This makes me cry more. I tell him I have to have surgery. He needs to take Peyton to someone’s house because I want him here for it but she can’t be there. He doesn’t want to leave me, but there isn’t much choice. He leaves and still I lay there and wait. Finally they have a bed for me in the emergency room right now because SDA (same-day admitting) is full. I get a giant adult diaper slapped on me to keep me from leaving a trail in case someone was trying to find me, and wheel me to my bed. I am surrounded by a curtain with nothing to do but sit and think. Why didn’t I bring something to read? Why didn’t I listen to my instinct to bring all the things I somehow knew I would need? I was in denial.

I wait again. Today seems to be the waiting day. You always expect a wait at the doctor’s, but man, this was nuts. The nurse comes in and out, monitoring my heartbeat and blood pressure. I finally have to pee. The nurse shows me where the bathroom is and I walk holding the back of my dressing gown shut. I go pee, but I don’t even notice because all I see is blood and blood clots. Two clots fall onto the floor before I can even sit down. Great, another mess I made. I try to clean up but I can still see the blood. I rush back to my area and tell the nurse I need another diaper. How embarrassing. My 1 ½-year old wears diapers, not me. Until now. I tell her I left blood on the floor and I am so sorry. She sends someone to clean it up. I wait again. Wondering where my husband could be? He hasn’t been gone too long but I am bored so I text him. He’s caught in Friday traffic and hasn’t even gotten home yet. I look around for something to read. Nothing. Not even a box of plastic gloves has anything to read on it. It’s freezing in here. I am shaking. I get another blanket. I stop shaking but I’m still cold.

Admissions lady comes. Oh great. I have to sign my life away and I’m sure she is going to want some money. She tries to be nice about everything, but there is something so fake about the way she does it that it bothers me. I finally get her to leave and then almost wish she would come back so I had something to do. I am not that desperate though. Cramps are really starting to hurt. I ask the nurse if I can take anything for it. She gives me some anti-inflammatory but promises me morphine if it doesn’t work. It does, but I am tempted to say it doesn’t just to see what morphine is like. What the waiting will do to your mind!

Finally someone comes to take me to another bed in SDA. I get wheeled again to the 4th floor where I get in another bed and…TV! I get TV! But first, I have to answer another series of questions from another nurse who has to take my stats again just in case they changed from when they took those 5 minutes ago. It’s another waiting game but at least this time I have TV. My husband still isn’t here yet, but he just texted me that he’s on his way. I want to change out of this diaper because it reminds me of sitting in the first office in my own pool of blood. The nurse leads me to the bathroom and leaves me on my own. Just as I put the clean one on, something happens. Something is trying to escape from my body. It feels like a blood clot only a lot bigger. Plop. It lands in my fresh underwear. I take a paper towel and put it in that. This is no blood clot. It almost looks like a blood-covered brain. Without thinking, I set it on top of the trash, wash my hands, and leave. I tell the nurse and she wants me to show her. She thinks that I just passed the sac. I might not have to have surgery after all! This is the first bit of good news I have had all day.

When my hubby arrives, I notice he is still wearing his work clothes. Poor hubby didn’t even think about himself long enough to think to get in some more comfortable clothes. I tell him the good news, and he’s happy. Although, I think I saw a flash of relief cross his face when he realized we wouldn’t have to pay for the surgery, it was gone in an instant. We talk and laugh. I don’t cry anymore. I feel sort of numb. We watch TV but the earphones provided are only one ear bud. I watch TMZ and tell him everything that is happening in the celebrity world.
It’s getting late. I know my hubby is hungry so I send him off telling him I would still be here when he got back. I’m jealous. I’m hungry and thirsty but I can’t have water or food. I have to be empty in case I need the surgery. Empty. I already was empty, didn’t they know that? No food or water could fill up my now empty uterus. Well, not completely empty. There was still the Red Sea floating around in there waiting to come out when I laugh, coughed or moved. But I notice the tide is ebbing. There seems to be much less gushing. Is this a good thing?

Hubby comes back with the smell of In-n-Out on his breath. Is he trying to torture me? Of course not. He says it wasn’t very good, but I think he was trying to make me feel better. I update him on the episode of Supernanny I was watching. In the episode, there was a mom and dad and 4 kids. The dad worked 70 hours a week and came home and did the chores because mom did nothing but talk on the phone all day. I vow to never be like that. 4 kids. 4 is my favorite number. Will I ever get to 4? I couldn’t even make it to 2. What happens if I get pregnant and this happens again? I don’t want to go through this again. Will my daughter be an only child? I push these thoughts aside.

The nurse updates us and says the doctor is still in surgery and she will be here as soon as she can to see if I need the surgery at all or not. I keep praying for not. Although the nurse told me it was a very simple and quick procedure and I wouldn’t even have to stay overnight. Maybe I want the surgery if it gets me out of here faster. I’m getting tired and I can tell my hubby is as well.

The doctor arrives, hallelujah! She does an ultrasound. Just some blood left. She thinks we should try giving me some medication to make my uterus contract all of it out. Says we are still waiting on an operating room so it wouldn’t hurt to try this route so that we might not even need the OR. She orders the medication and leaves. I have to stay overnight now, though. This is what I least wanted to hear.

I send my hubby home. He is exhausted and I’m afraid he’ll fall asleep on the way there. I lay down and wait for the medication. They’re taking a long time so I try to close my eyes. Just as I fall asleep I am awakened by the nurse. The medication is here. This isn’t your typical medication. This medication needs to be entered in through my back door. Just when I think I’ve had the most embarrassing things done to me, they bring me this. It’s uncomfortable, but I don’t complain. It’s probably less uncomfortable than post-surgery would be, so I count my blessings. Now it’s just a waiting game again.

I close my eyes again but just before I can fall asleep, a new nurse comes in. My other nurse was going home. The new nurse needs to take my stats. Again. I oblige but now I feel awake. I lay in uncomfortable silence and listen to the noises around me. Gurney’s being rolled around. Monitors beeping. Phones ringing. Water being poured. Do you have any idea how good the sound of water being poured is? I never noticed it because I had never gone that long without drinking before. It sounds delicious. I wouldn’t care if it was tap water with a weird taste. I’m sure it would have tasted like the best water in the world. I close my eyes, but it seems the people across from me decide it’s time to celebrate. They all talk loudly and have their cell phones going off constantly. They finally leave and I wish it was me going home.

I fall asleep. When I wake, I think it must be hours later. It feels like I have been asleep a long time. I check the clock. It’s 1:45am….45 minutes after the last time I checked. The nurse comes in again to check my bleeding. There isn’t a whole lot and she seems happy about that. The doctor comes back in to check as well and says I don’t need surgery and that I will be able to go home soon. I close my eyes again when the nurse comes back to tell me the doctor has discharged me and I can go home anytime I would like. I knew my husband had only been home for a couple of hours and thought it would be best to let him sleep some more before telling him to come get me. She also brings me a pitcher of water and says I can drink, but I can’t eat anything yet. I was right. This water was the best water I had ever tasted.

I sleep. I wake up thinking it must have only been 20 minutes, but it is 2 hours later! 3:45am and the floor is really quiet. Nurses aren’t taking. Someone is snoring. I hear a man come in looking for his wife. My heart skips a beat because it sounds like my husband. How did he know? He walks past my curtain and I realize it was someone else’s husband. I hear hushed whispers…little girl…stopped breathing… but I can’t hear anything else being said. I prayed. Please let the rest of that sentence have ended with a miracle.

I sleep again. I wake up an hour later and need to go to the bathroom. There isn’t so much blood this time. I don’t have to wear those diapers anymore. I am given a pad and some see through underwear to wear. This completes the hospital gown look. I go back to my room and turn on the TV. I am tired but I want to go home. 4:30am. Still too early to call my hubby. The nurse asks if I would like to eat. I almost jump up and down on my bed and say YES YES! She brings me a sandwich. She takes out my IV. When she pulls the tape it feels like I am getting my arm waxed. She replaced it with a bandage and new tape. More waxing to do later, I guess. I eat and I watch episodes of Angel. I miss that show.

It’s 5am. I can’t wait anymore. I text my husband that I can go home anytime he wants to get up and come get me. I tell him they told me this at 1:45am and he wonders why I didn’t call him then. He says he would have picked me up. I love him. But that is exactly why I waited.
I watch more TV and a head peeks into my room. My husband has arrived! I can get dressed and get the heck out of dodge! While I am getting dressed, I tell him this hospital wasn’t too bad at all and I wouldn’t mind having the baby here. Silence. I realize what I just said. I also realize I already did have my baby here, but that I wouldn’t be bringing that baby home. How could I forget something like that?

The nurse comes in and gives me some papers and tells me I can be off of work for 4 weeks. If only I was working. My husband wheels me to the pharmacy to pick up some pain meds and we’re off to the car. I enjoy the ride because I pray I won’t be needing to use a wheelchair again for a long time.

It’s cold and foggy. We get to the car, but I realize I need to go to the bathroom. I want to leave though, so we stop at a Carl’s Jr. where I bleed into their toilet. It’s ok because I know it’s my body just helping itself to heal. We drive home.

I think. I think of all the other women who have been in my position before. Have they had the exact same experience I have? How was it different? I want to hear their stories. I only know my story. I think about how I need to write my story down. It is an experience I don’t want to forget and yet also don’t want to remember. It was painful. It still is painful. But it’s a part of my life that will forever shape and mold me into the person I am. Into the person I am becoming. I will never be the same. Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed.

This is my story.