PILR and 5/23

Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. 



While the following is not specifically graphic it may be difficult.

On 5/23/07 TB and I headed to the OBGYN together for the first time.  I had been to previous appointments with other doctors for well check ups and all the prenatal vitamins and things that you do early on but this was the first time that TB was coming with me and the first time at the big clinic with the doctor-who-shall-not-be-named-because-we-are-currently-suing-her.  All indications from the nurses meant that this would be the appointment you think about when you think of pregnancy; hearing the heart beat for the first time together, seeing a sonogram that actually looked kinda like a baby and not just a lump.  We sat forever in the waiting room and giggled and got really excited.  We were about to see and hear our child for the first time and we were just excited.  Once in the exam room we answered more questions (including several not so nice ones about how young we were) and got ready for the sonogram.  The first one didn't work so we tried a different kind and that one showed nothing as well.  My heart just sank as they tried everything they could to find the heartbeat.  There was not movement, no heartbeat and things just started to fall apart.  I was rushed to the hospital portion to see another doctor to see if the pregnancy had become ectopic, which means the egg latches and grows in the fallopian tubes instead of the uterus, and if there was any danger.  I spent a long time staring at the ceiling alone waiting for the doctors to decide what was going on.  He began to search for anything unusual and came to the conclusion that the fetus had stopped living very recently.  After I counted the ceiling tiles for the thousandth time through my tears, he eventually was able to ensure that I was not in any danger and we started to talk about how to pass the baby the safest way.  We scheduled an appointment for the morning.
TB and I left the office devastated.  We sat in the car and just cried in the parking lot, neither of us knowing what to say.  We drove over to my parents' house and told them the news and cried some more.  We had no reasons, no answers, no explanations.  We just didn't know what to do.  After a long time talking we decided to go home and rest for the upcoming day.  Both of us fell asleep almost immediately.  I woke up a few hours later, laying on top of the covers and sleeping still in my clothes and shoes.  Something didn't feel right.  I used the restroom and saw the blood that I had been warned might start appearing.  After some time I realized that there was more pain than there should be and my body was passing the fetus and flushing everything out of my uterus.  I sat in the tub by myself for hours and went through the most excruciating pain I have ever felt.  When the contractions slowed down and it looked like things were over I turned on the shower and cried until there were no tears left.  I wrapped myself in robes and towels but could not get warm.  Eventually I crawled back into bed, wet and shivering and curled up next to a sound asleep TB.
The doctor cancelled the procedure the next day since it was no longer necessary and soon after I started to have unusual symptoms and issues that began my long recovery process.  I have since unsuccessfully tried to overcome the guilt, loss, pain and leftover trauma of that experience.  Though I have not yet won those wars, I am winning more battles and am no longer afraid to talk about my experiences throughout the last 5 years.