Hi everyone. I'm not sure many will read this but I need to tell my baby's story for my own peace.
We started trying to conceive in early October. It worked! We got pregnant our first cycle and I knew from about 10 dpo. I took dozens of pregnancy texts and would teasingly text daddy pictures of positive pregnancy tests while hr was at work saying "Look! Still pregnant." One day I took a digital that said 2-3 weeks, when the previous had said 3 weeks. I chalked it up to the hook effect. The timing was about right. That wasnt it though. Late Monday night, November 9, I was lying in bed and woke up to dull but intense pain and went to the restroom. When I wiped there was blood streaked mucus. I immediately texted my fiance and told him about it and I was heading to the nearest emergency room. The RNs were not compassionate or kind. They made very unprofessional comments that broke my heart. The tv shows in the waiting room kept mentioning birth, abortions and babbies. It was so awful. There we waited 4 hrs to never even see a dr, but be told my HCG was on the low end of the normal range for our week of gestation (6-7 weeks) and that there was no heartbeat. 2 days later my HCG hadn't changed.
My obgyn was on vacation so he couldn't see me. His nurses told me to take progesterone, which makes me sick and very tired. I took the meds, until I went to urgent care on Saturday (4 days after heavy bleeding started). They confirmed fetal demise. No change in ultrasound. I stopped progesterone. Sunday night I started cramping while dancing in the car. I felt a GUSH of blood, more than I had been feeling. I went to dinner. Then contractions started around 9 pm. I drove to my hometown to be with my fiancé. I felt a need to be there, even though he had offered several times to come to me. I intiitivelt knew I needed to be in my hometown, like a sea turtle when she lays eggs.
So I got there and labored through contractions, which never found a real rhythm for about 4 hrs before my body gave into exhaustion. I bled so much. Monday morning I woke up and immediately started having contractions again. I emailed into work about what was happening. I had taken off two days last week as a precaution for bed rest in case the pregnancy was viable. I received an email with last week's pay statement. I was docked pay for missing. I was so hurt and angry at society and the American way of life, and how skewed our priorities are as a country. We have no sick days, and only 10 vacation days a year (which I have already used for sick kids and car problems), even though I am an engineer in a salary position. This felt like a slap in the face. So much had already gone wrong. I felt guilty for being upset over money at a time like that, but it was more than the money. Honestly, it was the principle. I felt unsupported and alone.
I continued to labor while feeling foolish for having gone to the ER and missing work last week all for "nothing." There was no way I could have gone in Monday though. I was, for all intents and purposes, in active labor. After 5 or 6 more hrs of laboring in my sweetheart's arms, my dr refusing to prescribe me anything for pain, his nurses claiming that and almost accusing me of the urgent care having already given me meds, FINALLY finding some meds left from a previous surgery which allowend my body to relax and release, and managing to get some food down I delivered what appeared to be the placenta, but no sac. My fiancé had to go to work at that point, which mad em upset with "the system" even more, but the meds had kicked in. So, I went to sleep. When I woke up a few hrs later I had a few strong contractions and finally delivered a tiny sac. The process was much more intense than anyone told me it would be. I have a high pain tolerance but this felt every bit like labor, until delivery. The urgent care nurse told me my body would absorb the "products of conception." Obviouslt it didn't, and I was not prepared for this at all.
Finally I gathered my strength and went to my grandpa's, and he showed me where grandma's ashes were spread. It was starting to get dark and had been rainy. Thanks to the warm weather, though, some irises were trying to sprout and I buried my baby's remains right in the ground next to those irises (so they can help the plant grow) where grandma's ashes were spread. I'll always be able to find that spot. That's why I needed to be home. I didn't even understand it until it happened.
Today my dr of 10 yrs finally saw me a week after this started and confirmed my womb is empty, though I am still bleeding heavily.
As difficult and tragic as it has been I found so much love and beauty in this experience. A server at a very expensive restaurant asked why I was out the night my contractions started (they started when I left the restaruant). I told him I was miscarrying. When he handed me the tab, it was a note that said "Feel better." No charge. I was shown love and kindness from a stranger. I'm closer to my partner and my family. It has also made me appreciate and be more in tune with my body. Knowing my child's short life served that purpose gives me some closure. I'm also going to donate the diapers and book, maternity clothes, etc that I had already purchased to a home for pregnant teens. Again, giving my baby's life a purpose is helping with healing. I refuse to be sucked into the negativity, as to honor my child as the blessing he or she was.
If you have made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope, I guess maybe to find another purpose for this little one, that this might help someone going through a similar situation. You are loved. So is your baby. You will come through stronger.
p.s. We named the baby Marley. "Love is my religion."
Peace and love sweet mamas.
We started trying to conceive in early October. It worked! We got pregnant our first cycle and I knew from about 10 dpo. I took dozens of pregnancy texts and would teasingly text daddy pictures of positive pregnancy tests while hr was at work saying "Look! Still pregnant." One day I took a digital that said 2-3 weeks, when the previous had said 3 weeks. I chalked it up to the hook effect. The timing was about right. That wasnt it though. Late Monday night, November 9, I was lying in bed and woke up to dull but intense pain and went to the restroom. When I wiped there was blood streaked mucus. I immediately texted my fiance and told him about it and I was heading to the nearest emergency room. The RNs were not compassionate or kind. They made very unprofessional comments that broke my heart. The tv shows in the waiting room kept mentioning birth, abortions and babbies. It was so awful. There we waited 4 hrs to never even see a dr, but be told my HCG was on the low end of the normal range for our week of gestation (6-7 weeks) and that there was no heartbeat. 2 days later my HCG hadn't changed.
My obgyn was on vacation so he couldn't see me. His nurses told me to take progesterone, which makes me sick and very tired. I took the meds, until I went to urgent care on Saturday (4 days after heavy bleeding started). They confirmed fetal demise. No change in ultrasound. I stopped progesterone. Sunday night I started cramping while dancing in the car. I felt a GUSH of blood, more than I had been feeling. I went to dinner. Then contractions started around 9 pm. I drove to my hometown to be with my fiancé. I felt a need to be there, even though he had offered several times to come to me. I intiitivelt knew I needed to be in my hometown, like a sea turtle when she lays eggs.
So I got there and labored through contractions, which never found a real rhythm for about 4 hrs before my body gave into exhaustion. I bled so much. Monday morning I woke up and immediately started having contractions again. I emailed into work about what was happening. I had taken off two days last week as a precaution for bed rest in case the pregnancy was viable. I received an email with last week's pay statement. I was docked pay for missing. I was so hurt and angry at society and the American way of life, and how skewed our priorities are as a country. We have no sick days, and only 10 vacation days a year (which I have already used for sick kids and car problems), even though I am an engineer in a salary position. This felt like a slap in the face. So much had already gone wrong. I felt guilty for being upset over money at a time like that, but it was more than the money. Honestly, it was the principle. I felt unsupported and alone.
I continued to labor while feeling foolish for having gone to the ER and missing work last week all for "nothing." There was no way I could have gone in Monday though. I was, for all intents and purposes, in active labor. After 5 or 6 more hrs of laboring in my sweetheart's arms, my dr refusing to prescribe me anything for pain, his nurses claiming that and almost accusing me of the urgent care having already given me meds, FINALLY finding some meds left from a previous surgery which allowend my body to relax and release, and managing to get some food down I delivered what appeared to be the placenta, but no sac. My fiancé had to go to work at that point, which mad em upset with "the system" even more, but the meds had kicked in. So, I went to sleep. When I woke up a few hrs later I had a few strong contractions and finally delivered a tiny sac. The process was much more intense than anyone told me it would be. I have a high pain tolerance but this felt every bit like labor, until delivery. The urgent care nurse told me my body would absorb the "products of conception." Obviouslt it didn't, and I was not prepared for this at all.
Finally I gathered my strength and went to my grandpa's, and he showed me where grandma's ashes were spread. It was starting to get dark and had been rainy. Thanks to the warm weather, though, some irises were trying to sprout and I buried my baby's remains right in the ground next to those irises (so they can help the plant grow) where grandma's ashes were spread. I'll always be able to find that spot. That's why I needed to be home. I didn't even understand it until it happened.
Today my dr of 10 yrs finally saw me a week after this started and confirmed my womb is empty, though I am still bleeding heavily.
As difficult and tragic as it has been I found so much love and beauty in this experience. A server at a very expensive restaurant asked why I was out the night my contractions started (they started when I left the restaruant). I told him I was miscarrying. When he handed me the tab, it was a note that said "Feel better." No charge. I was shown love and kindness from a stranger. I'm closer to my partner and my family. It has also made me appreciate and be more in tune with my body. Knowing my child's short life served that purpose gives me some closure. I'm also going to donate the diapers and book, maternity clothes, etc that I had already purchased to a home for pregnant teens. Again, giving my baby's life a purpose is helping with healing. I refuse to be sucked into the negativity, as to honor my child as the blessing he or she was.
If you have made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope, I guess maybe to find another purpose for this little one, that this might help someone going through a similar situation. You are loved. So is your baby. You will come through stronger.
p.s. We named the baby Marley. "Love is my religion."
Peace and love sweet mamas.
