The last 24 hours have been crazy. What began as a joyous journey towards a new baby has left me with a racing mind and a bloated, aching stomach. It all began last week when I began spotting during my 10th week of pregnancy. It was my first week back at work--getting ready for the new school year as a French Teacher--and I assumed that maybe it just was caused by stress. Even though I hadn't experienced spotting with my first pregnancy, I readily believed that since I had already had a healthy pregnancy I would naturally have another. A quick search on Google relieved my mind, as spotting in the first trimester can be normal. As the days went on and the color changed from brown to light pink I started to have some concerns, but in my laid back and ever so trusting spirit determined that it was caused by the stress of going back to work. When things turned bright red over the weekend, I really started to worry, I knew something was off. I searched online and posted online in a mom's group, temporarily finding reprieve in it possibly being a sub-chronic hemorrhage.
Deep down I knew something was off and mentioned to my husband that I wanted to get an ultrasound to set my mind at ease and confirm the hemorrhage. Because OB offices are closed over the weekend and Urgent Care doesn't offer ultrasound, the only option is the Emergency Room. I figured I could wait and make a normal appointment, so I called and scheduled an appointment for first thing Tuesday morning.
The next morning my fears were confirmed as we sat down to do an ultrasound. I went to the bathroom before the internal ultrasound and was shocked to see even more blood, this time with clotting. I grabbed tissues off the back of the toilet thinking that I'd need them regardless of what the ultrasound showed: a comfort in that the baby was fine, or the worse scenario that the baby was no longer alive. I tried to be strong as I left the bathroom and assumed the position on the table. I knew my husband was worried and didn't want to add to the angst.
As the sonographer pulled up the screen, my heart sank. All I could see was a black sac. I wanted to scream out "where is the baby?!" but knew it was hopeless. It probably didn't help the situation I had a seemingly cold sonographer who worked in silence. I felt so in the dark. She left the room and I looked at my husband. What was that? Am I miscarrying? What is going on?! I wondered. The Nurse Practitioner I had seen prior to my ultrasound thought that perhaps I had my dates wrong since the baby was measuring at 5 weeks, not 11. I track everything in The Clue App and had received a positive pregnancy test at the end of July, the day before my son's 2nd birthday. I knew what was happening.
As I walked through the hallway to meet with the doctor, I felt like everyone knew. I was the woman who miscarried. In an office filled with medical staff and pregnant women, it is so shocking and depleting to realize you're the one NOT carrying a little life inside you, you're the one with a problem.
My miscarriage has yet to happen, but I'm anxiously waiting for it to arrive, like a thief in the night, taking away from me the gift of life and the joy of motherhood. I'm nervous to feel the pain, will it really be worse than labor? When will it happen? Will I faint in public like my good friend did 2 months ago?
It's so sad to me that the week after I received my positive pregnancy test, my baby likely died. I was so happy, checking on it's weekly growth and progress, only to look back and realize it wasn't doing any of that. When did this happen? And why?
I know it's likely a chromosomal abnormality. I get it, my husband works in genetics. But it's hard not to consider every.little.thing. Was it the strep throat I got around 5 weeks? The antibiotics that were deemed safe for pregnancy? The painting we did in our 2nd floor unit to prepare for new tenants? The stress of starting a new job? So many questions and likely none of them the cause.
Now I wait for the unknown. Luckily, I have the afternoon toddler free with my husband at the beach, watching the tide rolling in and wondering when my life will change. Have you miscarried or know someone that has? Does it get better with time like they say? Any words of advice?