Sometimes things happen in my life and the only way for me to fully digest everything is to write about it. This is no different.
Last month, Rocky and I discovered we were pregnant with baby #2. We had waited 3 1/2 years before traveling down this road again and while we were excited, we were so incredibly nervous, and rightfully so. I called my OB and squealed when I told them the news and set up my first appointment.
The first few weeks were pretty uneventful. Morning sickness was in full swing but semi-manageable. My clothes were getting tighter but nothing horrendous. Given my past pregnancy history, we planned on keeping this a secret for as long as we could hide it. By week six, I realized this pregnancy was not going to be as perfect as we were hoping. Spotting began on a Thursday and by Saturday, I was bleeding. I called my OB first thing Monday morning but he was closed and the on-call nurse provided me useless information that I had heard a thousand times during my pregnancy with Gavin. Wanting to know answers, I called my other doctor, a gynecologist that I have been working closely with on a bladder problem that stemmed from my c-section with Gavin. Although this doctor no longer does OB past 12 weeks, he is incredibly knowledgeable about pregnancy complications and how to help his patients make it through the first trimester. I asked his nurse if they would send me to a lab for blood work, to which they obliged. My blood work came back quickly and my HcG levels looked great and they had me come in for an ultrasound. Everything on the ultrasound was exactly what the doctor wanted to see in a healthy six week pregnancy - a perfectly round sac beautifully attached to the uterine wall, a fetal pole with a heart beat and no hematomas. The bleeding, he decided, must be from low progesterone levels and he placed me on progesterone before even having my results back from the lab (which eventually came back as low).
Over the next few days, I began to improve and I credited the progesterone. By Friday, I was feeling confident enough to move around and be a mom to Gavin. Unfortunately, it was short-lived and by late morning, my bleeding was back and it was back with a vengeance. This time, my gynecologist's office was closed but my OB's office was open. I called over there, explained everything that had happened over the week and asked them what I should do. My OB called back later that day and basically told me that it sounded like I was miscarrying. He told me something similar when I was pregnant with Gavin so I had a hard time completely believing him. He said my gynecologist did everything he would've done and to lay low all weekend, and to come in on Monday for an ultrasound.
Monday rolled around and we made our way into his office. He fired up the ultrasound machine and the next words out of his mouth were the last things I expected to hear: the baby has no heartbeat. He must have repeated his sentence five times because I didn't catch it the first four times he said it. I was shocked, stunned, confused. I was assured that once you hear a heart beat, your chance for miscarriage goes dramatically down. I didn't understand what happened. I cried. Not so much for the loss of this child but at the realization of what this meant about me and my body. This unfortunate event confirmed all my of my fears.
We discussed how to continue on - did I want to miscarry naturally at home or go into the hospital for a d&c. Providing me any medication to induce the process was off the table due to my classical c-section with Gavin and the risk of uterine rupture. With that off the table, a natural miscarriage could take up to a month to complete and I wanted this over. Now.
Rocky and I went home to digest the information and we both agreed that a d&c, although incredibly invasive, was the best decision for us. Before I could even call the doctor's office and give them our final answer, I began naturally miscarrying at home. It was a horrible process. It was long, and gory, and painful. However, because it already started, the doctor wanted me to finish it at home unless things went wrong. And, of course, things went wrong.
By Monday night I had horrendous cramping. By Tuesday afternoon, I couldn't cough, sneeze, roll over, get out of bed, walk, lay down, breathe without sharp, shooting pains penetrating my entire abdomen. And, I knew I had bled too much, more than I should have. When Wednesday rolled around and the cramping hadn't stopped, I talked to my OB who knew something wasn't right. I came in for an ultrasound, confirmed that I hadn't passed everything and he set me up for a d&c that night.
I arrived at the hospital and they prepped me immediately. It was a surreal but calming process. I was in the OR, which was eerily similar to the last OR I was in for my c-section with Gavin, for less than an hour and felt immediate relief when I woke up from the anesthesia. My OB informed us that I had an infection forming, my hemoglobin levels were low, and there was still a considerable amount of debris that my body hadn't passed. In other words, he was glad I came in when I did, before things got too far out of control. I hung out in recovery for awhile and was discharged with recovery instructions to lay in bed for the next 48 hours.
There is no doubt this has been one incredibly emotional, heart-wrenching week. I've been forced to examine my life and realize certain things about myself and my body. As much as I would love to be pregnant and have a second child, I'm no longer convinced my body can do so. It's a sad realization. So, where do we go from here? I don't know. My first priority is to make a full recovery and go back to our (semi) normal life. Everything after that is a mystery.
Until next time,