Letting you inside my heart...

Wikipedia states that, Miscarriage or spontaneous abortion is the spontaneous end of a pregnancy at a stage where the embryo or fetus is incapable of surviving independently, generally defined in humans at prior to 20 weeks of gestation. Miscarriage is the most common complication of early pregnancy.

Recently, I have been battling with the thought that I should share my experiences with miscarriage.  It seems to be a topic that until recently, has been swept under the rug because of grief and shame.  When I had my first miscarriage, I barely even knew the word and didn't think that I would have to worry about it.  I didn't know anyone who had been through a miscarriage and my family was full of fertile women.  After sharing this experience with several friends, my eyes have been opened to miscarriage's prevalence, the lack of knowledge and research for women's health issues, and the absurdity of it's treatment and undertones of shame. 

After a year of marriage my husband and I began to discuss starting a family.  Becoming a mother was at the top of my list of things I dreamed for my life.  I wanted six children.  A full house of fun and energy.  We compromised down to four.  I was so excited and immediately got all of the popular pregnancy books to study and fully prepare myself.  The sections on miscarriage in my books were about a page long...I didn't even bother reading them.  After several months and negative pregnancy tests, I was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and could barely stand up.  I had never had a period that painful, so I called my doctor.  I didn't have an OBGYN at the time.  My family doctor told me to take a pregnancy test which I thought was silly.  I took one two weeks previous to this and it was negative, but I did what she said.  When the test came up positive I was over-joyed.  Miscarriage was the farthest thing from my mind. 

We went to the emergency room and waited four hours to be seen.  We were told the more "life-threatening" situations came first.  My first nurse was a student and put me through so much pain that you could hear me screaming down the hall.  I had no idea what I was about to endure.  I will leave out most of the details and just try to tell my story medically.  In order to find out what was wrong, the doctor ordered an ultrasound for which they had to fill up my bladder to its maximum for about a half hour.  It was the most painful torture I have ever been though.  The ultrasound tech who was visibly angry that she was called to work in the middle of the night, took picture after picture.  I apologized that I had inconvenienced her and asked through my tears and gritted teeth, "is everything okay?" but she just said, "I can't tell you anything."  When we finally saw the doctor again, he told me to take some ibuprofen for the pain and follow up with my family doctor.  I had to ask him, "IS MY BABY OK?!"  He simply replied that they didn't see a baby.  He was cold and aloof.  He made me feel like I wasted his time.  In a matter of eight hours I went from doing the dishes in pain, to ecstatically expecting my first baby, to the most morbid pain, physical violation, and emotional trauma of my life.

I followed up with my doctor and was referred to an OBGYN.  He told me that miscarriage was the body's way of naturally getting rid of a bad pregnancy and that statistically, I would probably never have another problem.  We were encouraged to wait a month and then keep trying.  After several months, I was "late."  We were going to a movie with some friends and picked up a test on the way.  I was so excited to take it, so we stopped at a Taco Bell and I came smiling out of the bathroom exclaiming, "We're going to have a little bambino!"  I told everyone I could over the next three weeks and even started reading my big book of baby names.  At about six weeks, the bleeding began.  My doctor said there was nothing he could do and told me to try lying down.  I didn't move from my bed for anything.  The pain increased and the trips to the bathroom made it evident that there would be no baby.  I became an emotional zombie again until one night I cracked.  My husband held me while I screamed, "I want my baby!" and sobbed uncontrollably.  Nothing makes that pain go away. 

I couldn't understand how God could allow this to happen to me.  ME.  I wanted to be a mom more than anything in the world and had framed my life so that I could!   I had dreams that I abandoned.  There were young girls and women out there that didn't want children and they were having them left and right!  It was NOT fair! 

My doctor encouraged me that this was not the end.  He told me to keep trying.  They don't do tests or worry about there being a problem until after a third miscarriage.  I had to lose another baby before I'd get answers.  Late in 2002 I woke up with the worst sharp pain.  I couldn't stop getting sick, so my husband took me to the emergency room.  I thought maybe it was appendicitis.  The doctor did blood work and came in the room with a huge smile and said, "You're pregnant!"  I just looked at her and smugly said, "no I'm not."  This was different than the other complications I'd had, but I knew there wasn't going to be a baby.  I didn't cry.  I was sent for an ultrasound and it revealed a mass in my right fallopian tube, an ectopic pregnancy.  Wikipedia explains that, An ectopic pregnancy, or eccysis, is a complication of pregnancy in which the pregnancy implants outside the uterine cavity.^[1] With rare exceptions, ectopic pregnancies are not viable. Furthermore, they are dangerous for the mother, internal bleeding being a common complication. Most ectopic pregnancies occur in the Fallopian tube (so-called tubal pregnancies), but implantation can also occur in the cervix, ovaries, and abdomen. An ectopic pregnancy is a potential medical emergency, and, if not treated properly, can lead to death.

I spent the next few days heavily drugged for pain in the hospital until the baby passed.  My doctor had his reason to send me for testing and because of my strong desire to be a mother I had killed a third baby. 

I was sent to a specialist who did tons of blood work on my husband and me.  Nothing came up as a problem for him, but my blood work indicated several clotting disorders.  They weren't sure if this was a problem, but advised that I take baby aspirin or even injections of heparin when I became pregnant again.  Through an advanced ultrasound the specialist found that I had what was called a bicornuate uterus.  Wikipedia explains that, A bicornuate uterus or bicornate uterus, commonly referred to as a "heart-shaped" uterus, is a type of uterine malformation where two "horns" form at the upper part of the uterus.  My doctor explained that there was a procedure that might correct the deformity.  Just after the New Year, 2003, I went in for out-patient surgery.  When I woke up they told me the deformity was so severe that they couldn't fix it, but they had found that I was full of endometriosis.  Wikipedia's definition isn't very clear, so I'll explain that I was told endometriosis is like a scar tissue that forms due to a woman's hormones.  The doctors removed all of it and said to try getting pregnant again. 

A month later I was pregnant and then made it to my first ultrasound!  I was a nervous wreck.  I clenched my husband's hand and watched the little screen as they showed me my baby, with a heart beat!  The doctor said everything looked great and with the heart beat I only had a 3% chance of miscarriage.  Late 2003, Noelle Faith was born.  Upon my doctor's orders to have my babies quickly, 17 months later Matthew Joseph arrived, and 23 months after him Isabelle Grace was born.  I was in mommy heaven! 

My husband and I had three of the four babies we planned for.  We were happy, extremely blessed and so tired.  Sadly, this wasn't the end to my heart ache.  I will post a part-two to this blog in the near future.  Miscarriage was not over for me and had not even shown the worst of it's ugliness.