Rambling Through The Woods of My Mind (original) (raw)

I lost the baby at 7 weeks 6 days along. Squiggy was the nickname we gave the baby when we found out we were pregnant, which we found out about early, at 5 weeks.

My Experience:
I wasn't getting sick like I normally do during pregnancy. I was dizzy a lot, but not nauseous as usual. I kept getting this feeling that something was wrong. So, at just over 7 weeks along, I called the OB and they ordered bloodwork to ensure I was pregnant and it wasn't a false positive. The bloodwork came back positive with high HCG (pregnancy hormone). I was still not comfortable, my gut feeling like something was wrong, so they ordered an ultrasound.

It was on a Friday morning. Griffin went with me and everything looked fine and good, heartbeat was strong and baby was moving around all squiggy like. Measurements were right on. I was told I had nothing to worry about. The ultrasound was so special because not only was the baby alright, but Griffin cried when he saw the baby on the screen. It was one of the most beautiful, emotional, and touching moments of my life.

Dann was positive it was going to be a girl. From the moment we found out we were pregnant, he swore he knew. He told everyone about the pregnancy and swore that he knew in his heart of hearts that it was his girl. He was so excited. Over the moon excited. We both were. This was great timing in our lives. We were hopeful and happy.

I work at a coffee game shop, and I was working that same Friday night. I kept randomly getting dizzy and feeling like I was going to pass out. It was Friday Night Magic. I talked to a regular who was also pregnant. We shared our excitement and plans for the futures of our babies. While cloaing up shop, I had to keep stopping between sweeping and mopping, grabbing a wall or table so I didn't fall down. I felt so dizzy and things kept going in and out of focus. After getting home, I thought about how weird it was that I was having those problems, but took solace in the fact that the ultrasound earlier that day had been a good one. I always had rough pregnancies.

Fast forward to Saturday night around 7. I started bleeding- not just spotting, bleeding. I have bled with past pregnancies, so I tried not to freak out. I called the doctor, told her I understand that we can't do anything if this is a miscarriage, but that I just wanted to be sure I didn't need to do anything. She said just watch it and if the bleeding filled up a pad in an hour, head to the ER. The bleeding stayed steadily heavy, but not ER worthy by any means. It was, however, heavy enough that I felt sure I was miscarrying.

I remember standing in the bathroom, tears running down my face, as I came to grips with the fact that I was going to lose my baby. I was scared. But more than that, I felt guilty. Had I brought this on myself by validating my feelings of wrongness? I weaned off my not safe for pregnancy pills when I found out I was pregnant. Had I stopped too late? Had stopping them caused my body to go into shock? Had it caused me to miscarry? Had I pushed myself too much physically? What had I done? Why was my body turning on me? I knew Dann would be devastated and I felt so much guilt over that, too. This was supposed to be our girl. Why wasn't I able to give that to him, to us? I remember looking in the mirror, wiping my eyes, pushing aside my feelings, and calming myself enough to leave the bathroom without crying. This was just another miscarriage. I had gotten through the other ones, I would get through this one. But why did this one hurt so much more?

I'd had 2 miscarriages before, but I'd never seen the babies in an ultrasound. My first miscarriage was between Gavin and Griffin. It was a chemical pregnancy at 5 weeks. Between Griffin and Soren I had another miscarriage. It was a blighted ovum that was thought to be 9 weeks. That was an emotionally hard miscarriage because I had all sorts of plans and dreams for the baby, but there wasn't one. After that miscarriage, I was told it would be difficult for me to have kids because the Mirena IUD had caused a lot of uterus issues that made it difficult to get pregnant and keep it. Dann was an amazing rock through those miscarriages, especially the 2nd one.

Soren was supposed to be our last baby. I knew it when I had him. We made sure to take precautions and use protection to ensure we didn't have another pregnancy. And yet, we weren't sure how, Squiggy came along. She was a miracle baby, another chance at the large family we had wanted.

But then there were the unsettling feelings. And then there was the bleeding. And I had to accept that this baby could be lost to us. That beautiful baby whose heartbeat I had heard and seen only yesterday, was going to die.

It was a heartwrenching night. I distracted myself by playing games with a couple close friends who came over including my best friend, Sarah. At this time Sarah was living with us so she helped watch the kids whenever we needed it.

Sunday morning I realized I wasn't bleeding anymore. I thought it was strange, but hopefully a good sign. I didn't feel bad physically. It was almost like last night never happened. I even felt good enough to go look at a house since we were house hunting. But that evening I started bleeding again, lightly. I rode the evening out, waiting to see what would happen.

The following morning (Monday), I woke up and discovered I had stopped bleeding. While it was a good thing, I decided to still call my OB. I was freaking out because I didn't know what was going on with my body or the baby. Dann called into work and stayed with me so we could go to the OB together, especially since I was still having dizzy spells and wasn't comfortable driving. The OB said she wanted me to come in for another ultrasound, this time to the Women's center at the hospital so I could be seen right away. Sarah watched Soren (the other boys were at school) and off Dann and I went. I was concerned because I was lightly to moderately bleeding again.

We checked into the women's center and they eventually brought us back to a room to have the ultrasound. I got undressed from the waist down to have the ultrasound (which uses a vaginal probe at this point in the pregnancy). I was still bleeding moderately and apologized to the technician for it. The technician waved it off, saying no big deal. Dann and I held our breaths as she turned on the probe and the screen finally brought the uterus into view. I saw the baby up on the screen wiggling around. It was alive! We could hear and see the heartbeat! Dann and I let out a huge sigh of relief. Now to figure out what was the problem. We watched our cute Squiggy dancing around as measurements were taken.

Finally the ultrasound was done and we had to wait for the testing to come back. While the technician left the room, we looked at the frozen image of Squiggy on the screen. The technician returned and said that they wanted us to wait at the hospital and wait to hear from my OB. She would call at the hospital for me to let me know what she wanted done so that I didn't have to leave. She somehow called the home phone and not the hospital one. I don't remember why, but I do remember being pretty upset. As we waited for the call, I had to use the bathroom. I passed a small clot. Not only that, but I was bleeding pretty heavy at this point. I started freaking out. I quickly finished up and then went out to Dann and told him what had happened. He squeezed my hand. I felt claustrophobic in the waiting room. We went outside to wait for the call. I breathed in the fresh air and finally calmed down. We went back inside to finish waiting for the call. Finally, the doctor called the hospital and told me to go home and they would call me in a bit after examining the ultrasound further.

So Dann and I went to McDonald's down the road from the hospital to get some food since we hadn't eaten yet. I knew if I found out bad news I wouldn't be able to eat. So Dann and I talked for a time and chilled in the parking lot of McDonald's, forcing ourselves to eat. We watched a squirrel, distracting ourselves, gripping each other's hand, holding back tears.

Finally, they called and gave me the news- The baby was much lower in the uterus on the ultrasound than it had been on Friday. She said she was sorry but I was miscarrying the baby. She suggested I do it at home and let it happen as naturally as possible. I hung up the phone and told Dann what she said. We cried and broke down. I knew this was it, but I kept thinking maybe they were wrong. How could our baby, who had been so alive less than an hour ago, be about to die? How could that heart stop beating? How would it die? Would it die as soon as I birthed it, the heart instantly stopping? Would my body kill it before it came out? And if it did kill it, how would it do it? What exactly was the process? I pushed those thoughts out of my head and looked at Dann. He asked what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go home because I knew it was going to happen soon. So we buckled up and started home.

As we were driving home I felt my pad filling up and I knew there were clots. Cramps were hitting me. I tried to just sit still; we were almost home, it would be fine. Another ten minutes. I could make it. I felt like I wanted to push, but wouldn't let myself. I looked out the window trying to concentrate on anything. But I couldn't. As the cramps kept sending surges of pain through me, I kept cursing and hating my body for killing the life we had just seen. I begged my body to change it's mind. I kept mentally apologizing to Squiggy, begging her to forgive me for my traitorous body. I felt like such a failure,so angry and ashamed. I sang songs to the baby in my head, one I'd sang to her since conception, and kept trying to push positive energy into my uterus, begging my body to stop, to let her live. Dann and I both were lost in thought, although our hands were linked, like lifelines, anchors to each other, giving each other unspoken strength to get through this.

We got home just as the kids were getting off the bus. I told him I couldn't face the kids and that I had to get to the bathroom because my body was telling me I had to push and I didn't know if I could hold it off. He said he'd take care of the kids and for me to go. I quickly went inside to the bathroom, tears coursing down my face. I felt guilty leaving Dann with his emotions and the kids, but Sarah was there and I knew she would help.

I went into the bathroom and locked the door, turning on the fan to dull outside noise. I sat down. My body immediately told me to push. Involuntarily I did and tons of blood came out, going everywhere. Seriously, it was almost like an explosion. As gross as that sounds, it was one of the most horrendous things I've ever had to deal with or see. Blood was literally everywhere. It wasn't just in the toilet. It had gone out the sides, on the back of the toilet, all over the back of my legs, up my back, on the sides of the tub and on the cabinet beside me. It wasn't just a little. It wasn't like the explosive diarrhea you can get but worse, so much worse. And the blood just kept gushing out, smaller explosions coming, clots passing. I was terrified. My other 2 miscarriages were nothing like this.

I was not okay. I was not okay. Dear God, help me. I was sobbing. And the blood kept coming, although no longer explosive or as much. I tried to calm myself, breathing through the intense cramps, and choked back tears.

In the background, I could hear Sarah taking care of the kids, the TV going with some movie or shiw. Dann was helping with the kids, too, but he was also checking on me every so often, talking outside the door. I didn't want him to see the bloody battleground the bathroom had become, so I didn't open the door. One time when he came, I opened the door a bit, blood running down my legs, and asked him if he wanted to see the baby if I found it. He said no, he didn't want that kind of closure, but he understood if I wanted to. I shut the door, locked it again, and sat back down on the toilet as another wave of blood and clots needed to be pushed out.

I debated with myself. Did I want to see the baby? Did I want to fish in the toilet and find it? The toilet was close to overflowing with all the blood, so I needed to make a decision soon so I could flush. I went back and forth quite a bit. Finally, I came to the decision I didn't want to see her either. I knew it would put too much emotion on something that was already so hard, and I needed to sort through my emotions. I didn't know where I would bury it or what I would do. I didn't want to try looking through the clots to find the tiny body. And frustratingly, I kept thinking that I wanted to save the baby. Maybe she was still in there. Maybe I could save her... I felt the urge to push again, but wouldn't let myself since it would overflow the toilet. I took a deep breath and flushed. I forced myself to breathe. No going back. I cursed my body, feeling myself growing angrier as the grief hit me in waves and the blood kept coming, the urges to push involuntary. The cramps hurt so bad. I was bleeding so much that I had to flush again so it didn't overflow.

Finally, I don't know how much later, the blood had slowed down and the cramps were more a dull ache than shooting pains. I was able to get up off the toilet. I went to wipe, felt a clot, and decided to look at it, feeling some kind of strange desire to do so. I brought it before me and felt my heart go into my throat as fresh tears started pouring down and a small sob escaped my throat. There, laying on the toilet paper, was the baby, our little Squiggy, the "clot". I got up, unlocked and cracked the door, calling for Dann. He came over. I told him that I had the baby and asked him if he was sure he didn't want to see it because I had it. He assured me he didn't and asked if I was okay, if I needed him. I knew he grieved different than me and so I didn't push the issue. I told him I was okay, then shut and locked the door. I turned and lay the toilet paper with Squiggy on the counter. I talked to her, tears now a constant stream down my face. I found myself apologizing for not being able to save her, for failing her, for my body rejecting her. I told her about how much I loved seeing her on the ultrasound screen only 2 hours earlier. I touched her teeny, tiny little body and said my goodbyes, sobbing. I stared at her, trying to make sure I would keep the image in my memory so she was never forgotten. To me, she was beautiful. I touched her again, deciding what I wanted to do now. In that moment, I knew what I wanted to do with her body. I picked her up, holding her in my hand, staring at her one last time. I whispered the name she would have had- Bronwynn. Then I gently put her in the watery grave... and flushed. My heart felt ripped out of my chest. And yet, strangely, I also felt a peace come over me. There was that closure. I had seen her. I had touched her. The rest of this bleeding, the rest of this miscarriage, would be getting rid of everything else. I had said goodbye to her. I was no longer holding out false hope that she would survive this. And so I moved on.

I realized, once I went to move, that I had gotten blood everywhere. I had bled on the floor and the counter was covered with my bloody handprints. I sobbed as I wiped up what I could. I got in the shower to wash off the blood. Dann brought me in a change of clothes. I remember standing in the shower watching the blood pool around my feet. I turned the water hot as hot I could, just to feel something. It felt like burning (even though our water wasn't hot enough to actually do damage) and I welcomed the pain. It eased something inside of me.

I finally got out of the shower, passed a few more clots on the toilet, and got dressed. I put a pad in and cleaned up the blood again. I quietly snuck out of the bathroom and went downstairs to my bed. I didn't want to be by the boys. I couldn't put on a happy face; my grief was too raw. Sarah watched the boys and Dann came down after me. He held me, cried with me, grieved with me. I kept apologizing and he told me to stop blaming myself. And we cried. And we held. And we grieved.

After a time, I needed to change my pad. We agreed to tell the boys one by one. So he went up to explain to Sarah what we were doing while I changed my pad in the downstairs bathroom. The cramps hurt so bad and I was getting dizzy. I stumbled back to the bed and Dann came back downstairs, sitting by me, holding my hand. The boys came down and, one by one, we explained to them what happened. They were sad and said they were sorry I was hurting. Honestly, I don't remember much of those conversations. I was trying to be strong in front of them. But my head was throbbing with grief and I still felt in shock that this had happened. How had it come to this? I felt guilty looking at Griffin's face, remembering the happy tears he had shed at the ultrasound Friday.

Finally, after they were done, I asked Dann to go upstairs with the boys. He put a show on my computer for me while I laid on the bed. He brought me tylenol and ibuprofen to help with the pain. I took it and lay there, trying to distract myself with The New Girl. I finally felt better about a half hour before the boys went to bed.

I went upstairs to be with the boys. I had them and they had me. I needed their reassurance of love. It was so hard going up those stairs. I was so dizzy. Finally, I got up there, got to the couch, and cuddled with the boys, finishing a movie they had been watching. It finished and the boys went to go to bed. I tried to help and go with them to sing goodnight songs, but I got dizzy and fell to the floor. I felt the blood gushing. I used the walls to get to the bathroom and passed more clots.

The rest of the night I was so dizzy and weak I could hardly stand. It was an effort to move or do anything. My body was losing so much blood. I considered going to the ER, but decided to wait and see. Dann was really worried about me. He was always checking on me, helping me, holding me, comforting me, crying with me. He was an amazing rock. We were both so incredibly raw from this.

I don't think he's really healed yet. He was trying so hard to be strong for me.

And, as always, life moved on after the loss. In the end, I had complications because I kept bleeding. I bled for over 9 weeks, which is longer than is typical. I literally lost pieces of tissue that they had to send for analysis. I cramped and bled so long... I was so sick for so many weeks.

The worst part of all of this? I had mentioned earlier that I had gone off all my meds for the pregnancy. So here I was, losing this baby, and trying to keep my bipolar, borderline, and anxiety in check. It was so freaking hard. I had meds adjusted and things happened along that line, but I'm not going to go into all that. Extremely long story short on that whole thing, it has been decided for my physical and mental health that I should not have any more kids/pregnancies. Maybe adoption or foster care down the way, but none that I birth. That was so so very hard to hear. But all of that is wrapped up in another story for another time.

Sometimes I think of how far I would have been pregnant with her, of how she would be kicking in my belly by now. But it wasn't meant to be. And that pain of loss, that empty feeling, is one of the hardest things to cope with when you're having an otherwise normal day.