Monday, January 9, 2012

My miscarriage Part 2

You can read Part 1 of this story here. I suspect it will be at least a 4 parter, but hopefully I'll get more up this week. It's been tough to write, but it feels necessary for my recovery.

The ultrasound tech came to take me to radiology. She was maybe 40, and looked like quite the little church lady.  She seemed out of place in a hospital and she didn't seem that comfortable in her position. She wasn't very rehearsed on giving the same old instructions. (empty bladder, take off bottoms, cover with this sheet.)  After I was ready for the vaginal ultrasound, she didn't seem comfortable doing it. She even asked me if I'd be more comfortable inserting the wand myself. ha. I made mental note of all these musings to tell people later. The funny story of how I freaked out over a little bleeding and went to the ER to see the baby. I wondered if I'd get to find out the gender at almost twelve weeks. I'd heard of people finding out that early. Would Dh be mad I found out when he wasn't there? 

She started the ultrasound while I was thinking on all these things.  I immediately asked about the heartbeat. "No, honey. I don't see it yet. Hold on, sometimes it takes a while, and I'm not supposed to tell you that much." I asked again, and she repeated herself. I asked again. "Hold on, honey. I'm just taking some measurements."  I decided to change my approach. "Well, does it measure 12 weeks?" She just shook her head. "No. honey, I'm sorry. It's more like 8 weeks. You deserve to know that much."

I was shocked.  Hard to tell time, maybe 2 or 3 seconds of silence, of understanding.  Then my world fell down around me. I always imagined hearing something like this would be like in the movies, and I'd say, "NOOOOOOO!!!!" like they do and collapse on the ground, etc. I didn't do that.  My grief sounded like a dying, choking animal. Noises I can now hear in my mind, but are difficult to describe and painful to hear again.  Inhuman noises. I don't know how long that part lasted. I thought I heard the tech choke back tears. I don't remember the order of what she said, but at different times while I was making these sounds she said the following to me several times.
"I remember when it happened to me."
"you go ahead and cry. It's a very sad thing. Go ahead and cry."
Then she started to repeat "Ooooh, precious dear," and after hearing that a few times I looked up and realized she was talking to the baby, not me. "Dear precious angel baby." This was oddly comforting. I stopped with those strange sobs and started regular human sobbing.  I asked to see the baby.

It's so unlike me to ask something like that. I can't believe I did, but in grief I had completely lost my mind. She showed me the ultrasound and I saw my baby. I don't regret seeing it, nor am I glad I saw it.  I did see it, and I'll remember the lifeless pictures forever. It was just black and white ultrasound, but it was so very different from the bundle of moving cells I'd seen before.  I don't have more to say about that.

After she was done I called my husband and told him. Seemed like he took the news so well. He later told me he'd worked hard to prepare himself for bad news so that he could entirely support me in that case. I'd responded by asking if he'd had any hope going in. He assured me he'd had hope, but had just prepared for the worst. At least one of us had. I was relieved he took it well, and I'm still thankful I don't have to be haunted with a memory of his devastated reaction. I told him sweet babe only measured 8w5d, and then got off the phone and was wheeled back to the ER section.

Continue to Part 3

2 comments:

  1. Beautifully written! Thanks for sharing. I just posted by miscarriage story on my blog, http://alifenotlivedblog.wordpress.com/yesterday. I think there is healing in sharing. I am sorry for your loss and will keep you and your husband in my prayers!

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  2. Weeping. And hugging you in my heart. </3

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