Over the weekend, we lost the baby.
Everything had been going fine and I was excited that I had reached 12 weeks (on Wednesday) and that we were going to get to see the baby again in a little over a week during our next scheduled ultrasound. On Thursday I was traveling to DC for a conference, and on the plane noticed something wasn’t quite right. After arriving in DC I called our midwife from the airport and was directed to go to the hospital just to make sure everything was ok. Unfortunately, everything was not ok and after some blood work and an ultrasound, I was informed that we had lost the baby. The flight had nothing to do with losing the baby; it only brought it to our attention. I was alone, heartbroken, and made the decision that I wanted to come directly back home. The social worker from the hospital and James (back in Illinois) helped me cancel my DC plans and get the quickest flight back home.
The flight home was awful, but I kept it together as best as I could until I exited the plane and saw a dime (heads up) sitting upright along the wall of the walkway from the plane to the airport.
My mom and I have a thing about dimes. While some people have “pennies from heaven,” my mom and I have dimes that show up in the most unlikely spots, but at the most needed times. In the past when I have found a dime, it has helped me to recognize that either I am on the right path (ex: When I found a dime when we were moving into our new house) or that things would be ok even though it seemed impossible at the time (ex: When I didn’t get into the School Psychology program after putting everything I had into getting in, but later it turned out that the other path I took because of this led me to my true passion… and then eventually James!).
Thus for to me to see the dime, I not only felt close to my mom (who I hadn’t been able to tell about the baby yet), but I also felt like just maybe things would somehow work out ok. Starting to cry again, I picked up the dime, headed towards security, and saw James waiting for me. I was pretty surprised (and started to cry even more) because I had driven my car to the airport that morning and didn’t expect James to come and get me. Not that I didn’t want him to come and get me, I desperately did, but I just couldn’t justify asking him to drive to Bloomington to pick me up when we would just have to go back to Bloomington at a later time to pick my car up. Regardless, James was exactly what I needed right then and it was nice to be together on the way home.
After a long restless night, we went to the doctor’s office the next morning where we talked with one of the midwives and a doctor about the results from DC the day before and what the next steps should be. The doctor didn’t think I was going to miscarry on my own so he suggested coming in the next day for minor surgery that would remove the baby and help me physically heal faster. James and I agreed and the plans were made for the next morning. Regretfully, this didn’t work out as planned because I went ahead and miscarried Friday night/Saturday morning at home. I was in a lot of pain, but after talking with the nurse on call at my doctor’s office, I decided to stay home until Saturday morning when I was to have surgery.
Saturday morning we got to the hospital early because they were going to perform an ultrasound to see if I still needed surgery. Unfortunately there was some kind of miscommunication that caused them to “lose me” in the system for almost 2.5 hours. I was checked in and ready, but the people who needed to know where I was (namely the ultrasound technician and the surgery team) had no idea where I was. When the ultrasound technician finally found me (after 9AM), she told me she had been looking for me since 7AM (we’d gotten to the hospital around 6:45AM). The ultrasound showed that even though I had lost the baby, I still needed surgery. Consequently, my 7:45AM surgery turned into a 10:30AM surgery. The doctor visited James about 11:05AM to tell him everything had gone well and I was in the recovery room. There were a few other minor mishaps like losing my my surgery paperwork and the pharmacy failing to fill the prescription that caused additional time in the hospital. We finally left the hospital around 12:45pm. We got something to eat at Cracker Barrel and then went home and crashed. Thursday-Saturday seemed to have stretched out forever and the mental and physical stress and strain had taken their toll on us.
As of right now we are doing the best we can under the circumstances. Some times are worse than others, but by being there for each other through the entire nightmarish ordeal, we’re doing ok and hopefully starting the healing process.
