My Story

Please don't read if you are easily upset or get depressed reading about grief.


Please... if yer having second thoughts, please don't read this. As I know I will shed many tears writing this... I don't want to unneccessarily upset someone else.







I am writing this for every woman who feels alone, every woman who feels like a failure as a woman, every woman who has had a miscarriage. I am also writing this for a personal account before I forget everything that happened. As bad as I want to forget there was ever a pregnancy and a baby to call my own... I always want to remember how happy I was to be bringing another baby into this world. Losing this baby can't make that love go away... it just makes it harder to put it somewhere.


MY SYMPTOMS
I started spotting on Monday. Thinking it was just the product of an extra sensitive cervix (something I had spoke with my doctor early in my pregnancy about), I didn't think anything of it really. I didn't even call my doctor right away. I waited a couple of hours when it didn't subside, and then I called and spoke with the oncall OB. She really was not very reassuring... and actually made me quite upset over something I just thought was typical and normal for some pregnancies. She kept saying over and over, "well getting upset won't stop whatever events are already occurring. You might as well not get stressed out about it." I kept thinking to myself WHAT EVENTS?? I thought this was just normal spotting from a tender cervix. I really didn't start thinking the unthinkable until after I got off the phone with her. I immediately started to cry when I got off the phone. How can someone just so nonchalantly tell someone not to get upset over the possible loss of a baby? Did this woman even have kids?

I called again on Tuesday night and spoke to another on call because the spotting hadn't stopped. It wasn't heavy... not even enough I had to wear a liner. Just a little pink on the toilet paper when I went to the bathroom. I just wanted to see if this was normal.

I was reassured if it wasn't "flowing" that there probably were not any problems... and I would keep my OB appointment on the 16th (NEXT Tuesday Morning). She also told me that miscarriages this late in the pregnancy (although they happen) most often than not, they happened weeks before 12 weeks, and that she really did not think it was a miscarriage at all. She made me feel so much better about the situation. I got off the phone and cried tears of relief. I wasn't losing my baby. Everything would be okay.

After I spoke to her Tuesday night it turned darker, like old blood... and although it was more spotting than before... I didn't think anything of it, because the blood was darker.... I just thought my body was flushing out the blood that was no longer needed.

Wednesday Morning I got a message from my doctor. He had received notice that I had talked to the oncall... and he wanted to know how everything was. I was elated with the fact that when I got up to go to the bathroom there was no blood to be found. I called the doctor back and told the office that I really didn't think anything was the matter... there was no blood when I went to the bathroom last, and I would just see them on the 16th. All was well. Or so I thought.

At about 4:45pm I got up from a nap, and went to go to the bathroom again, and I wiped and was HORRIFIED. There was so much blood, much more than any other time, and now instead of being dark, it was bright red. I called the office immediately.

I was scheduled for an ultrasound Thursday morning, and had talked back and forth with the office 4 or 5 times. I was really worried now... and began to prepare my husband for the worst.

My husband was up late (he works nights, but this was his night off), and I fell asleep on the couch. When he woke me up at 5am to go to bed I told him I was cramping really bad and I went to the bathroom. Now there was even blood... and I told him I wasn't waiting til 10am to find out, I was gonna drive myself to the ER myself, and I would know as soon as possible.

MY ER VISIT
I drove myself at 5am, because I didn't want my DH and all of the kids to have to wait in the ER for that long. I knew it would be a long visit. When I got to the hospital, I parked in ER parking and I walked in and checked myself in. We went thru triage really fast and I was just in a daze. I got my room, undressed, and laid down on the table with a blue chux pad underneath me. This was all too familiar, as I had a miscarriage about 3 1/2 years ago... and all of the memories came flowing back freely. How long would I have to wait this time to find out if my baby was gone? Last time it was five hours. Five long hours of waiting in a ER room alone without anyone.

The doctor comes in and does a pelvic and wipes away all of the blood and clotting from my cervix. He had a mediocre bedside manner and he wasn't too concerned that I was very uncomfortable. The speculum hurt so much (and I never have that problem)... and he pinched me with it. I jumped, and he seemed uneffected that I had started crying. He finishes and tells me I seem like I am dilated 1 1/2 cm, but for having four kids... that could be normal for me. Don't worry just yet. He leaves the room telling me that the phlebotomist will be in soon to draw blood and rushes out the door.

The phlebotomist showed up... and unlike the doctor, she was amazingly comforting, and she rubbed my shoulders as she looked for a vein. She was encouraging and caring, and I didn't want her to leave.

I have rolling veins, and they are really small, so drawing blood is always a huge task, and although it hurts me a lot... I always feel bad for the people drawing, as I know they don't like to have to put people thru pain. She tried in my wrist, and then again in my upper arm, but to no avail. She says the is invoking the "two poke rule" (something I am very familiar with, as I go thru two sometimes three phlebotomists everytime I have to have a blood draw). She tells me she won't poke me more than twice, and she will call in another girl. She wished me luck and apologized for hurting me. I smiled at her and assured her it wasn't her fault.

The next phlebotomist came in and I told her the same thing I did the last girl "I have rolling veins and it's hard to draw blood from me." I showed her where the last successful blood draws were from, and let he go about trying to find a vein. She had tried on one arm and had went to the other, but was still having some difficulties. She was really really sweet about it though, and was determined to find a good vein before the stabbing commenced. Then the "mediocre-bedside-manner" doctor came in and very impatiently asked if she was done. She calmly explained that she hadn't even started, that she wanted to be sure of a vein before she started to poke me. He seemed to think she was incompetent... and he wanted it done now... and he offered to do a blood draw from my Femoral Artery. Now, if you look at that picture, right where the line labels the artery is right about where he would draw the blood from. I began questioning:

"How is that done?"
"How many have you done?"

This apparently is standard procedure in ER visits with trauma patients. So he was very sure in himself. He had even started feeling for my vein, and became very confident that he could do it faster and more efficiently than my new phlebotomist. Beginning to become overwhelmed, I was starting to give into his very abrasive personality.

"How bad will it hurt?" I asked.
"It doesn't hurt very much at all." He replied as if it were only gonna be a prick of the finger.
"Have you ever had one?" I asked nervously. How could he say how bad it would hurt, if he had never been thru one.
"No, I haven't." He said very abruptly. I was beginning to lose faith.
"Have you?" I looked at my new phlebotomist.
"No, I haven't." She looked at me almost with a look of shame on her face.
I replied, "Forgive me if I have lack of faith in medical staff for a procedure I have never been thru."

He didn't seem to like that, and it was a small blow to his ego. He looked at the phlebotomist as to ask for some backup. She seemed to pick up on it as fast as I did, and she quickly spit out, "Oh sweetie, it will be fine. I have faith, and he knows what he is doing."

"What would you do if you were me?" I said.

They both looked at each other, and then beat around the bush that ultimately it was my decision, and they couldn't tell me what to do.

I gave in and let him start feeling for a vein. I was very very nervous, and clutched the bed with my hand, trying desperately to find an outlet for my fear of the unknown.

POKE!!!

Although he assured me it would be rather painless it was not!! He couldn't find the vein right away, and he swiveled the the needle around in the top of my leg trying desperately not to look like a dumbass. By now I was crying as it hurt so bad, and I swear he kept hitting a nerve cuz every 5 seconds a shard of pain would shoot down my leg and thru my thigh like nothing I had ever felt in my life.

"Are the patients you perform this procedure on AWAKE when you do it?" I wimpered with sarcasm. It hurt so bad. He was sick of me by now, and got this disgusted look on his face and told me they all were. Why was I so upset?

They had five vials of blood they needed filled. Maybe it was four. One really big one that looked like a test tube, and then the other little plastic ones with the little colored tops on them that they normally have used to collect blood. Every single time he had to switch the container out, he lost the vein, and had to go around searching for it again. By now I think my body was going into shock from the pain, and I was shaking so bad I remember I was pleading in my head for the needle to please please please not break off in my leg. The whole procedure only took about 6 or 7 minutes, but when someone is digging around on top of a nerve in search of a vein... that seems like a million years.

The whole situation was so traumatic... but I have to say that both of the phlebotomists I had were the sweetest women ever... and I really thought about calling about both of them, to thank them for their comfort.

So, the blood is drawn. Now I have another nurse come in to inform me that I had to have a catheter so they could fill my bladder up, so it will all show up better on the ultrasound. She also had mediocre bedside manner, and after I had shown upset about needing a catheter, she seemed to lose all patience. I was still crying from the blood draw.

She starts administering the catheter, and she is pulling so hard on my skin that I feel it tear. Now, I know that skin is sensitive down there anyway, and I was already covered in blood anyway... but she got so upset with me when I mentioned that she was pulling to hard and she was tearing my skin.

"No I am not! I administer these all of the time, and I know what I am doing." She blurted out. I felt like a 5 year old getting swatted for saying fart at the dinner table. How was it I just got scolded for someone else hurting me? That just didn't seem right. The catheter went in with no other problems besides that it hurt like hell (don't they always?) and it was really uncomfortble since I had no pain medication.

The ultrasound tech came in, and she was so friendly and nice. She was an older lady and very chatty. She had just moved to this city and she was not familiar with all of the doctors or the layout of the city. We talked about corn, we talked about her degree, we talked about her children and her grandchildren, we talked about everything but the most obvious.

She was surprised I had a cath in, and couldn't figure out how to work it since it was clamped off... and it wasn't the standard procedure she was used to. As an ultrasound tech since the 70s, she had only ever had her patients drink water before the procedure, and very very rarely did she ever have to administer a catheter. She finally got it figured out, and she started filling my bladder. She got about 1/3 of the bag in and I thought I was gonna explode. I started becoming very agitated, and it immediately made my whole back and kidney area start hurting. She dimmed the lights, and said that she wouldn't put the whole bag in if I was already so uncomfortable. She started the ultrasound.

She asked me if I really was almost 12 weeks along. I told her the due date my doctor had given me... but she seemed to question it. Maybe because the baby was small? Maybe my uterus was small? She couldn't tell me. She told me it was hospital policy she couldn't tell me if she had even saw a heartbeat or not. As much as she really wanted to, she could get in serious trouble... and please don't think of her as a cruel heartless person. I didn't. I remember from the first ultrasound that she couldn't tell me anything. I think that's a stupid rule, but I waited there anyway. I tried to talk thru the anxiousness, and blabbered out anything I could think of to take my mind off of what was happening. She was happy to oblige and such a wonderfully sweet woman. She too had made such an unbearable situation just a little bit more tolerable. She was done now and drained my bladder. It was such a sigh of relief. She wheeled me back to my room. It was about 6:30am.

The original doctor came in maybe half an hour later to tell me that they were waiting on the radiologist to look at the pictures, and that they would send another doctor in after they had gotten the results to tell me whether they would admit me, or release me, based on the orders that my OB was calling in. He also informed me thatmy bloodwork had come back and my HCG levels were really really low, and either I was having an abnormal pregnancy or a miscarriage... but we had to wait for the ultrasound to be diagnosed. He left the room telling me that the doctor should be arriving for his shift at 7am, and he should already be in the hospital and would be in momentarily. Just hang tight.

like 30 mins. had passed by, and I was getting really uncomfortable. The nurse who had administered the catheter had told me it was only in for ultrasound purposes, but yet no one had came in to remove it. I remember this happened last time, and they were getting ready to dismiss me, and I was like I can't go with a catheter in still... they looked at me like a scolded dog. The nurse last time was very apologetic. So I wasn't surprised they forgot about it the second time. I paged the nurse's station. Someone came in right away, and I asked when my catheter would be removed. He said he would send someone in right away... and just to hang tight. He was a very caring man, but I could tell he was very rushed. By now I had heard from the sounds in the hallway that a little 8 year old was in another room awaiting treatment for seizures that they couldn't stop, and there was a man in the room beside me that had abnormal EKGs and they thought he was having a heart attack. He was also diabetic and going into shock... so everyone was on high alert for him. I was just a girl with a miscarriage. Who cares about that.

another 30 mins passed by, and a nurse comes in. She kept calling me sweetie. She says, "Let me get your catheter out for you." She comes to the bedside and is almost immediately horrified that the ultrasound tech had clamped it off, so this whole time the catheter wasn't working, and the extra solution (and urine) in my bladder wasn't able to drain. She apologized up and down about it, but I knew it wasn't her fault. What could she do about it. She drained my bladder and pulled the catheter out. It hurt so bad coming out that I gasped and started crying. I was glad it was out though and it was almost immediately so much more comfortable to lay on the hospital bed.

She walks to the door and turns back and says, "Sweetie let me go get your discharge papers and then you can get dressed and go home."

"Go Home??" I was panicked... Home? But the doctor never came in to talk to me.
"Yes, you are free to go. Hop on down and go get dressed, I will be back in a minute, sweetie."

I went and got dressed. I guess I got my answer, and the doctor didn't care about my problems. After all there were other people in the ER with more pressing issues. I came out of the bathroom and she was standing at the door waiting for me. I sat down in the chair and started to put my shoes on. She walked over to me and presented me with a black packet called "Grieving your loss."

My loss. This is how they are telling me? I wasn't even worthy of a person saying "I am so sorry, but you lost your baby." I was so outraged, but at the same time my eyes welled up with tears. It was the confirmation I was waiting for for 3 hours. But it was still so hard to swallow. To add more salt to the wound, she keeps talking to me

"I know you have been thru this before, and you probably know how emotional it can be for you afterwards... but do know it was nothing you could do. Just look at it as God's way of letting you know that this baby wasn't healthy enough to be born. If God wants you to have a big family, he will bless you with many many more children......"

She keeps going on. She was in my room probably 5 mins, and I think I heard her say God 15 times. Right now, GOD was the thing furthest from my mind. I just wanted to be alone in a room so I could cry. She kept comforting me, letting me know that she understood how it felt-- she had miscarried before too, and even though it was hard to think it wasn't my fault, I really had to understand I didn't do anything wrong. I tried to reassure her I understood... but in my heart I really didn't. Why me? Why my baby? She asked if I needed a ride home, and should they call someone. I told her I was driving myself home, and I would be okay. She handed me tissues and she left the room. I sat sobbing, letting tears stain the paper she had given me. "Spontaneous Incomplete Abortion." I composed myself and left in the same haze as I had come in with. It was now close to 8:30am I think.

I went home and tried to lay down. But I had cried so much that I wasn't even tired anymore. I just kept thinking about my baby. At the time of my miscarriage I was 12 weeks along. At 12 weeks along, a fetus can kick and swallow. Fingers and Toes are almost formed, and a fetus starts looking more like a baby. The baby is about 2 inches long. The only thing that is comforting right now is what the ultrasound tech has said. She asked me if I was as far along as I had thought. Maybe that's cuz the baby was too little? Or maybe I wasn't as far along as I was... and maybe, just maybe.... my baby didn't die kicking and swallowing... and maybe, just maybe, there wasn't a baby at all... maybe it was just an amniotic sac (which is all they found during my last miscarriage). I guess I just take it one day at a time. This is one of the hardest days of my life, and it's only half way over.