Angel Baby

First I must write a disclaimer.

If you are uncomfortable with the idea of miscarriage or any process of a woman's body, or get sick at the thought of blood, read no further.  If you have a weak stomach turn back.  There are some cold, hard emotions coming up and some all too real experiences.

This is my story of miscarriage.  I had never thought it could happen to me, especially after two normal, pretty regular pregnancies.  You think, my body knows how to do this, no problem.  But sadly I have had this experience now and I feel the need to share it because miscarriage is never talked about.

I had bleeding on Monday and was very worried due to the very red nature of it.  Everything I had read was pink and brown is ok, red is a warning sign.  Plus I had cramping the night before and just felt off in general.

I was very scared and called my midwife and I got in for an ultrasound Monday afternoon.  I drank my litre of water and spent an hour in uterine agony like every other woman who ever had an ultrasound.  So I waited nervously and danced around silently cursing every tech who was just talking or walking or doing work other than scanning my abdomen.  I got in finally and my baby was very small so they had to do a trans-vaginal scan instead to measure.  I saw my baby and its heartbeat.  They said everything was fine, baby is small but fine.  6 weeks and 5 days old rather than nearly 10 weeks like they thought and the 8 weeks that I thought.

I went home and felt tired and relieved but still worried.  I had a nap on the couch and went to bed early.  I was supposed to announce to the world (aka Facebook) with a beautiful family picture that I was pregnant that night but decided it was not the right time.

Tuesday morning I woke up crampy and my bleeding got harder.  It felt like labour contractions so I timed them, 1 every minute lasting about 20 seconds, then 40 seconds of relief then back at it.  Finally, I rushed to the bathroom.  I felt something pass, something large and the first thing I felt was relief, like when you actually birth a baby finally after labour.  But that is usually followed by a baby placed in your arms.  Instead I sunk to my knees digging in the toilet to see what had come out of me.  It was probably the saddest moment of my life.  Holding a lump of something in my hands, the blood pooling in the creases of my fingers, desperately searching for some evidence that this was my baby and that this was over.  I just wanted it to be over.  Another one comes out 15 minutes later.  Two more over the morning.  I spent the morning rushing to the bathroom, shaking, achy and feeling like I want to puke.  My body ached like it gave birth and my heart ached like I didn't.

The cramps got better over the day, but the sadness set in.  I called my midwife after the first two clots and she said it was leaning towards the sound of a miscarriage but the best thing to do would be to wait a couple days and it turns out that's how long it took to get me back in for an ultrasound anyway.

The hardest part of the whole day was when I was explaining I may have lost the baby to my husband.  My three year old overheard me and said, "Mommy, why did you lose the baby?"  

I lost the baby.  Me.  My fault.  

I know this is not true, there was likely nothing specific I did to lose this baby.  It's not like I ignored it, misplaced it, or left it at a gas station in the middle of nowhere and drove off.  But still, something died inside of me.  That is crushing.  I was unable to sustain this life inside me.

I had my ultrasound this morning.  I woke up feeling my body aches and pains that had gone away with pregnancy.  I haven't been getting sick when I don't eat often and I have not been eating often.  I also fit into jeans that I hadn't worn in a couple weeks.  All of this plus my inner knowing of what happened Tuesday morning had me well prepared for the news.  But I was surprised how I still held onto a thread of hope when I asked the tech if I still had a baby.  She said she can't say much about it.  Then I knew it was over.  The tech on Monday mentioned having to try a different way to see it better, she showed me the baby, and the heartbeat.  Obviously if they cannot say anything there is nothing to see.

After she took all her pictures, she left the room and said she'd be right back.  I shook on the ultrasound bed trying not to cry.  She was nice enough to go see if the Radiologist would come talk to me, apparently most won't but this one did.  He broke the news to me gently and talked far longer than I wanted him to.  They kept telling me to take my time leaving but all I wanted to do was to get the hell out of that hospital and cry on the steering wheel of my car.  Still, I am thankful they were so kind.

The hardest part about it all is that I have nothing to hold, which sure would be hard in itself but it would also feel more real, not like this feels.  It feels like it was never really there, this thing I loved never actually existed and was all in my head.  There's nothing to bury, nothing to ceremoniously say goodbye to.  My goodbye was at a toilet, by myself.

I honestly felt like I gave birth, but a birth with no support and obviously no baby.

I've been working on deciding how to heal from this.

Everything I find about miscarriage support is for getting your body back to get pregnant again.

I'm not sure I want to ever risk feeling this again.  That could just be my first stages of grief but I wish there was something that nourishes your grieving mind and body without the try, try again message.

I named the baby Parker due to its gender ambiguous nature.  Some may think it's silly to name a baby that didn't make it past 8 or so weeks but if you do, keep it to yourself.  Again, I need to feel like this experience is real, my pain, my loss, my grief is real.

I bought some material to make a blanket, a blanket I will be calling Parker.  It had to be a "no sew" blanket though because I couldn't sew something to save my life.

I also filed away my ultrasound pictures from the night before it happened.  Both a blessing and a curse.  Seeing my "fine" baby with a "great" heartbeat and then losing it the next morning seems crazy to me.  What changed in those 16 hours?  At first I wished I hadn't had that ultrasound.  My Mom then pointed out that I wouldn't have any proof that I had a baby growing in my tummy.  Good point Mom.

I have never been more grateful for all the wonderful people in my life sending me love.  The support has been amazing.  You really cannot fully understand miscarriage though until it happens to you.  My heart goes out to all who have had one, and especially to those that have had many.

For now I deal with the after effects of "birth".  I am so sick of my own blood and apparently there's more to come.  My heart aches but I feel a little better having closure.  Having to continue a pregnancy in total fear that it could end at any moment would have been worse.

Now I have my Parker Angel looking down on me.

Anyway that's my story with all the gory, raw details.