april
end of the month, was not feeling great. massive sinus infection. but also felt odd. off, but not in a bad way. (always been unhealthy and "off" has never been a good thing) i just felt oddly off.
realized i was a week late.
took a test.
faint positive.
a week later feeling more off, waking up
every day at 2:30 or 3:00 am. dead tired by 5:30 or 6:00 pm. trouble breathing, but not in the usual asthmatic way. nor the usual sick way.
took a second test.
the positive line came up before the control line did.
holy shit!
first time it went from faint positive to positive (usually goes to negative).
doctor confirms.
elation.
may
lots of health issues. many visits to doctor.
new job with physical demands.
deemed "high risk" by docs because of previous history of mc and age (over 35).
hubby and i got to see heartbeat at first ultrasound to determine pregnancy was a go.
told about abnormally large cyst on ovary. tortion may be a complication.
june
still waiting for that specialized care they promised. no one caring that i say something might be wrong. told it is just my nerves. my vitals are fine. everything is fine. take this and you'll be fine.
end of june
after throwing a near fit at doctor for no one listening to me, was given impromptu consult with doctor on hand who specialises in high-risk and fertility issues.
he explained everything then questioned why i had not had a second ultrasound yet.
(thank you!)
ordered ultrasound as soon as i could come back in.
her face
11 weeks on monday and the look on the ultrasound tech's face was peaceful and neutral. they always are. i could see her comparing size and positioning of ovaries (monitoring growth of cyst and looking for signs of tortion).
i could see the screen.
caught glimpse of baby onscreen.
last time he or she was moving.
. . .
she bit her lip and quickly repositioned screen so i could not see.
gone was the neutral expression.
i felt a panic i cannot explain.
along with this need to hold onto hope.
just wait, i told myself. just wait until you hear back from the doctor.
tuesday
on break at work, text from hubby and three missed calls from doctor.
listened to message from doc.
no heartbeat.
baby died, it appears, 3 weeks prior.
remember that time i went in and said something didn't feel right? that was at 8 1/2 weeks.
because of risk of infection and because my body is still, idk, thinking it is pregnant, they "need to perform a d&c to remove the fetus..."
i had to finish my shift that night.
wednesday
at doctor's office.
trying not to start sobbing. again.
nurse bringing me in has not read file or taken the time to see why i am in.
cheerily asks my how i am doing and how the baby is.
i could wring her neck, but as i answer her, in the most civilized manner i can, "he, or she, died. it's why i am here. is that not in your file?"
she shuts up. actually looks at my file and is quiet as she takes my vitals.
a newborn next door starts screaming and i lose it.
my nurse rushes out of the room with a "the doctor will be in shortly. i'm sorry."
i hear her speaking with the nurse or doctor in the next room and they have momma pick up the baby "please," they say, "just calm her for a bit. if you don't mind we can do this bit in a little while?"
the doctor goes over everything she said on the phone again. and again.
she already did this 4 times on the phone the night before.
the added bonus (did she just say that?!) of the d&c is that they will have valuable tissue for the genetic testing to see what is wrong.
don't worry, it should be covered.
thursday
get up early.
how can i sleep?
shower.
(sorry, doc, you get unshaved legs because i don't give a fuck what they look like to the guy scraping my dead baby out of my uterus.)
grab something easy on the stomach for coming out from anesthesia - i always get sick to my stomach after not having eaten for ever and g-f me cannot eat their damn crackers.
yes, everything gets under my skin at this point.
check in.
pregnant women and families visiting just delivered babies everywhere.
happy fucking thoughts.
health history with nurse.
she marginalizes everything.
but somehow manages to almost come off as if she is sympathetic.
it must be a gift.
i wanted to punch her in the face and cry on her shoulder all at once.
she keeps calling my dead baby "tissue."
the anesthesiologist tries the same thing and i correct him, "you mean my baby?"
he is silent for a moment, looks at me, for real this time, and takes my hand and says how sorry he is.
i break down for the, i don't know, 8th time (?) that morning.
doctor comes in.
says he was not aware he was saving the tissue for testing.
explained the procedure.
i corrected him, too.
he rejected my correction with the ever professional, "actually, it is just tissue. it's not a baby until later in its development."
well, thank you doctor asshole. now i don't feel so bad.
fucking mother fucker.
i said nothing.
nurse comes back in with form for fetal testing.
"well, the doctor didn't know
this was being done. you
do know that none of this testing is covered by insurance, right? never is. and it costs thousands of dollars."
what i should have done, what i now wish i had done, is rip out the i.v. lines they started, gotten dressed, and left.
i just cried and asked my husband what he wanted to do.
at a loss and feeling completely devoid of power, we signed other consent forms, but declined the testing.
coming out
hazy
vaguely aware of nurse asking me how i feel
i realize what has just happened and cannot stop sobbing
she commands another nurse to grab my husband
tells him to hold my hand and talk to me
i am still sobbing
i cannot stop
...a month later
i still wake up sobbing sometimes.
feeling like i did when i came out of the procedure.
i know many of you think that 11 weeks is too early to become attached.
too early to consider it a baby.
but we did.
we saw his or her heartbeat.
and i let some random guy (big whoop, he had a medical license) scrape that baby out after saying he or she had been nothing more than tissue.
not sure what to feel.
...or think.
still trying to deal with the whole thing.
both on a logical level and an emotional one.
that is one of the things i like about me.
i love logical. i love to look at things from every angle.
and i love that i can be emotional.
i love that i empathize with others on so much.
they both do a service to the other - the logic of seeing things from every angle allows for empathy to kick in and the empathy feeds the logic - of course so and so reacted that way, it may not *seem* logical, but they acted on their feeling which was [this].
but the two of them just make working through something like this take longer.
i can see every angle and feel like i am arguing with myself in circles.
(no i am not actually arguing with myself and no i do not need to see someone about my two selves)
sometimes this is just how i work through things.
just writing everything out.
or, though it felt like a long post to you, the small tiny bit of everything that matters.
because this story, was so much more than this.
there was so much more hope, more struggles, crazy obstacles (health and money) that we had to work through... there is so much more to this story...
but that is for another day.
maybe.
back to doctors
i think, from my (sadly) vast experience with doctors, that doctors, though they usually are very logical, need a lesson in empathy.
oh that you could teach empathy to another.
[sigh]
that doctors could see what their patients are really struggling through.
that they could, for a moment, put themselves in their patients' shoes and understand where the fear or anger or feeling that something is wrong is coming from.
that they could think about that woman with a history of mc who "needs" the d&c and consider what that might do to her.
or, perhaps, they might at least assign her to a surgeon who does not minimize her pain and suffering.
is that what we are here to do?
minimize other's pain and suffering by trying to marginalize their experiences?
i would think the better more effective method would be to try to see things through their eyes and attempt to comfort them and get them through it.
but that might, in turn, make
us uncomfortable. god forbid.
i guess i just expect more of people.
