We are happy to announce that we are now planning the home birth of our first rainbow baby. Though it didn’t look like it last April when I was going through a miscarriage, God truly does work things out for the best. Please consider making a donation to our birth fund. Every little bit helps! Thank you so much.
I’ve decided to record my thoughts and feelings while going through one of the most difficult periods of my life. Originally, I had planned for this to be a pregnancy journal, and someday, I know I’ll still get to write one of those too. But my midwife said that journaling helped her get through her miscarriage, so I’m hoping that maybe it will help me.
I started spotting on Thursday night, and naturally, this being my first pregnancy, I freaked out and called my midwife. She said not to worry and asked me if I wanted to get an ultrasound to make sure everything was okay. I said yes. Up to that point, I had decided to wait to hear a heartbeat with the doppler, but I knew that wouldn’t happen until at least 10 weeks.
So I went on Friday to an ultrasound imaging place in Rock Hill, SC. The tech was stone cold. She hardly looked at me or spoke to me the whole time. I knew I should have gone to see an OB. Maybe they would have been a little more sympathetic. Even before I got to the place, as I was driving, I could sense in my body that something wasn’t right. It’s like I knew the fate of my baby already. Call me a pessimist, or call it woman’s intuition, but I think that when you’ve had a silent miscarriage, you know it. You can feel it in your soul.
As I was lying on the table, I kept watching the tech’s face. I could read the disappointment as she shook her head each time she pressed a button on the keyboard. I couldn’t see the screen.
She did the belly ultrasound first. Then she told me to empty my bladder before doing an internal ultrasound. She said she was having trouble seeing a heartbeat and wanted to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
I was lying on the table trying to read her face, hoping for a smile, a spark, a crack, something — ANYTHING.
I looked up, closed my eyes and tried to pray, but my mind was blank. I didn’t even know what to say to God.
Then she finally said the words I was dreading.
There’s no heartbeat. I’m sorry.
What does that mean?
That eventually, you will probably miscarry.
She told me to get dressed and that she was going to give my midwife a call. After I got dressed I plopped down in a chair feeling the worst defeat I’ve ever felt in my entire life. So many thoughts ran through my head.
No heartbeat? How can this be? Is this a mistake? I knew we shouldn’t have told anyone we were pregnant. How are we going to break this devastating news to all our friends and family now? Everyone’s expecting a baby. I was expecting a baby! What went wrong? Why did this happen? Are you sure this isn’t a mistake? Maybe the screen was blurry. Maybe her eyes were fuzzy…
She came back and told me I was free to go. I called my midwife sobbing. She confirmed that I am probably going to miscarry. The pregnancy was measuring 7.6 weeks, and I was 9 weeks along, so at that point, the baby had stopped developing. I tried to hold on to the hope that maybe that tech was wrong, but I knew in my heart that she wasn’t.
My midwife also told me I have a dermoid cyst on my left ovary. If you don’t know what a dermoid cyst is, look it up. It’s pretty interesting, kind of scary, and really gross all at the same time. It’s eerily like having bits of a tiny human attached to your ovary. Hmm. Isn’t that ironic? I’ve had parts of a person inside of me since I was born, and I’ll probably need to get them removed … but not until after this baby removes itself first.
I drove home. My sister Naida arrived. Shortly after that, my mom showed up. Then Janet, my sister-in-law, came over. They sat with me for several hours, consoling me and just being there for me. That was awesome. I drank a glass of red wine. My mood went up. Then it went back down. Then it went up again. Then it went back down again. I’m still on a roller coaster of emotions. I’m trying to let the miscarriage happen naturally. I don’t know how long it will take, but I’m sure there will be plenty of journal entries along the way…
If you stumbled on this blog because you’re dealing with the loss of a baby, I hope that it helps you get through it. It is already helping me.
Til next time…