This post is going to be a rough one. Tears may ensue. Emotions may barrel through. But I need to write this to heal and to grow. I hope sharing my story will help someone out there; you are not alone.
December 15, 2018: A positive pregnancy test
I asked D to pick up a box on his way home. I was suspicious and anxious to find out why I hadn’t started my menstrual cycle yet. After we placed Lil Bean down for the night, I hurried to the bathroom, ripped open the box, debated on whether I wanted the digital test or the non-digital test (why aren’t they the same test, btw?), and peed on the stick I did choose.
It was instant. A blue line, marking pregnancy. I gushed and giggled, and quietly tip-toed to D. And we sat there, ecstatic to have a new addition to our beautiful family.
Just like with Lil Bean, we weren’t actively trying to get pregnant but suddenly were! I started dreaming of the relationship Lil Bean would have with her younger sibling. Dreaming of the fun times ahead as a party of 4. And for the next two weeks we pondered over double strollers, potentially upgrading our family vehicle for more space, and revisioning the Lil Bean’s room to accommodate two Lil Beans.
I wanted to tell everyone and anyone. D did too. But we decided to wait until my first ultrasound. Sadly, that never came around…
December 27, 2018: Miscarriage
I woke up bleeding. Worried, I called the advice nurse line. They told me to stay in bed. The OB/Gyn department called to check on me. I told them I was still bleeding and the cramping was worse. They asked me to head to urgent care. By the time we were on our way to Kaiser Permanente in Fontana, I was in severe pain and bleeding heavily. D drove us as fast as he could, holding my hand while I cried profusely.
I walked in and the check-in line was 10 people deep. When it was our turn, the woman checking me in couldn’t be bothered. She said, “What’s wrong with you?” I get that there were a lot of people utilizing the urgent care, and I get she probably wanted to head home and call it day, and I get that there were 50 people waiting in the waiting room. I get it. But I also don’t get the lack of kindness and care.
We waited for 3 hours to be seen. Three long, agonizing hours. Once I was called in, the nurse practitioner told me that they would be closing soon (urgent care closes at 9pm) and that she would take our cell number just in case, but I would probably need to head to the ER for my results. After a vaginal exam, blood tests, and a vaginal ultrasound, urgent care was closed. And so we went to the ER.
The ER was a mess as well. People piled in with nowhere to sit. Sick individuals hacking lungs who were there for hours. As we checked in, we told them we were waiting for results. They told us it would be a nine hour wait to be seen… I was distraught but wanted to hold on to some hope. So we sat in the waiting room for almost 5 hours. In the end, I gave up. I was in so much pain, I just wanted to lie down. So we took our names off the list and headed home.
No one had to tell me what I already knew; I lost the pregnancy.
December 28, 2018: The Aftermath
Heartbroken, I cried for days. I walked around with the biggest cloud over my head. I couldn’t deal with anything. When I wanted an ounce of happiness, I’d hug my baby girl, sniff her in, and go back to bawling my eyes out. I thought about how cruel nature was to give me a gift and to take it away. I thought about the pain and waiting I endured at the medical center. I thought about what I could have done differently. Was it something I did wrong?
For three weeks, I returned to the Kaiser Permanente laboratory to get blood tests done. So for three weeks I was reminded, point blank, that I was no longer pregnant. For three weeks I watched my HGC levels taper off and go back to zero. My heart was shattered over and over again.
Ultimately, I spiraled down and blamed myself. I loathed myself.
I didn’t care about the statistics. Even when the OB/Gyn nurse called me to check on me and tell me it wasn’t my fault, I tuned her out. I knew that each pregnancy had a 10-20% chance of miscarriage. I knew that miscarriages early on (in the first 3 months or 1st trimester) are due to natural causes such as improper cell division. But knowing the information didn’t make it hurt any less.
I still cry. Not as much but once in a while when the fleeting thought of having another baby enters my mind. Or when I look at the calendar and realize I would have been close to 4 months pregnant by now. Or when I watch my Lil Bean playing with her toy babies and cuddling them to sleep.
Will it stop hurting? No.
Will we try again? Yes.
Will our next one replace the baby we lost? Never.
Will I heal? Yes. It may be months from now. But I will heal. For now, I still continue to grieve. And that’s okay. Grieving is okay.
‘Til the next time.