I’ve been debating whether or not to even post this, but I figure that we haven’t been able to keep this miscarriage a secret anyway. Many people knew we were expecting Schultz baby #2, so it’s inevitable that just as many people would know that we lost this baby. I’ve decided to lay it all out here. For anyone who decides to read this, WARNING, it’s not a short read.
Today, I had an appointment with my gynecologist. It was the last that I will have for a while, a seeming end to the saga that has been the last month. It’s been a long month. I’ve shed many tears and held back even more tears, only to wind up with those nasty tension headaches. I hate those. I sort of thought I was out of tears for a while, but I should know better. My mom used to tell me that I was “planted close to the river”; aka a cry baby. As I write this, somewhere in the well of my soul, new tears have found their way to the surface.
On January 3rd of this year, the holiday celebrations were all but over in our home and I felt compelled to get back into my work out regime. I did the “Shred” with Jillian Michaels just like I had faithfully done for at least 40 some odd days before the Christmas season. She kicked my butt. Actually, she more than kicked my butt, to the point that I felt nauseous and like I could pass out. Warning bells went off in my mind. The next morning, I took a little test that confirmed my suspicions; I was pregnant. Mitch and I were shocked, but also ecstatic. I hadn’t even had a period yet since having Jett, and while we knew that breastfeeding was not a sure-proof birth control, we really hadn’t thought getting pregnant again was an option quite yet. It took a few days to wrap our minds around, but we got increasingly more excited at the thought of having two little peanuts so close in age. We don’t know exactly when I would have been due, but our best guess is the first week of September. This would have given us two precious children slightly more than 16 months apart.
It felt odd, déjà-vu-ish, as I made doctor’s appointments, and booked an ultrasound to determine a due date. With Jett, we waited until after I was 10 weeks along before we even told our family, but this time we decided not to wait. We told our families our exciting news right away and then proceeded to let friends know, too. It became common knowledge in our church and other circles that we travel in. I felt great and thought that I had no cause to be concerned or anxious about the pregnancy. I had no cramping and absolutely no spotting. I had times of feeling nauseous throughout the day, and some strong aversions to certain foods and smells, but all seemed to be going very well.
Just over a month ago, on Monday February 7th, Mitch, Jett & I headed into Saskatoon, excited to meet the newest addition to our family via ultrasound. We made an afternoon of it and enjoyed lunch at Moxie’s as well as a stroll through the McNally Book Store before heading to the Women’s Imaging Centre for our appointment. I do remember thinking that the ultrasound technician was exceptionally quiet as she looked around my uterus, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We could see the baby right away, and for all those of you who have children, you can relate to this moving event. After taking the necessary pictures, our silent technician told us to wait in the room while the doctor reviewed the images and the came in to share with us the results. Thinking back on it now, “results” is an odd word to use. I didn’t think I was at the centre for a diagnosis of sorts; I was there to meet my baby. I am so thankful that Mitch, Jett and I were together as a family for this appointment because when the doctor came in and told us that he was sorry to tell us that our baby had no heart beat and he was “sorry”, I was shocked. That was the last thing we had expected to hear. We really hadn’t even considered that there was a risk; that we could lose our baby. There had been zero signs or indicators leading up to this moment and I had no mystical intuition that prepared me for the news.
The baby was measuring about 9 weeks along, but there was no way of telling when the baby’s heart had stopped beating. It could have been weeks or just days. I really can’t remember much else the doctor said to us that afternoon. We were emotional, but even more so, we were shocked. It was a quiet ride back to the farm that day. I had a million thoughts and questions running through my mind (I’m sure that Mitch did, too), yet I didn’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about what Jett was doing, so he must have been behaving fairly well. Maybe he sensed our emotions.
I had an appointment with my gynecologist the day after the ultrasound. It was supposed to have been the first of many prenatal appointments for the pregnancy. Instead, it was much different. When I was called in by the nurse, I tearfully explained that I didn’t think I needed to be weighed, etc… that this wasn’t that type of appointment. I awkwardly explained my situation to a nurse who then felt sorry for me.
I really like my gynecologist. I saw her throughout my pregnancy with Jett, and I am glad that she is the one who helped him into the world when I delivered via C-section. It was hard but good to talk to her and have some questions of mine answered:
“Why did my baby’s heart stop beating?” – While it’s impossible to know without doing a tissue analysis, 80% of miscarriages are attributed to “chromosomal abnormalities.” This means that if I had been able to carry this baby to term, He or she would likely have been born with significant challenges. Downs Syndrome is considered a “chromosomal abnormality”.
“Is it possible that something I did could have caused this?” – She assured me that this is incredibly unlikely. I live a fairly healthy lifestyle and have not experienced anything ‘out of the ordinary’. I was worried that I could have done damage by sitting in a warm pool, while pregnant (the family hot tub at the Shaw Centre), but my gynecologist said that it would not have harmed the baby.
“Will this affect any future pregnancies I have? Am I at greater risk of miscarrying again?” – The answer to this is, no. Unfortunately, many women experience miscarriage. Apparently, 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage! This stat seems extremely high, but during this past month, I’ve been amazed at how many women have shared with me that they, too, have experienced the loss of a baby. There are some unfortunate women who have conditions that cause them to miscarry several times, but in most cases, it is simply not a compatible “match” (with regards to egg and sperm). It could be described as a ‘fluke’, and there’s no indication that I should be at any greater risk with future pregnancies.
“What do I do now?” - My gyno explained that I had three options. First, I could wait and hopefully my body would figure out what to do and would ‘pass’ or miscarry the baby naturally. In most cases, women’s bodies’ do figure things out, but it can take weeks to happen. The second option was to have a tablet inserted that would soften the cervix and cause the uterus to contract, essentially putting a woman into labor and causing the baby to be expelled from her body. The last option was to have a D & C (Dilation & Curettage), which is a day surgery in which a woman is put under general anesthetic, then her cervix is forced open and her uterus is scraped and ‘vacuumed’.
What I decided to do was to wait a week, hoping that maybe my body would ‘figure things out’, which seemed like the most natural and thus my preferred option (from a list of options that I wish I didn’t have to face). But I did make an appointment with my gynecologist for a week later. I didn’t like the idea of waiting indefinitely for my body to pass my baby on it’s own, and I wanted to keep the door open to the other options. Waiting for “something” to happen was agonizing. I didn’t, and still don’t, know when my baby died. Every time I went to the washroom I would expect to see blood, but I never did. I did a lot of searching and reading online that week and, the longer I didn’t see blood or feel anything, part of me would wonder if perhaps maybe the doctors were wrong. They had made it very clear that with our baby being the size that he or she was, it should have been very easy to see the heart beat. They left little room for doubt, yet I read about cases where doctors later found a live twin in the uterus, etc. The mind is a funny thing and the Internet is a crazy phenomenon that fuels our mind’s confusion and quest for information and affirmation; even wrong information.
It was difficult to know how to tell people that we lost our baby. We had told pretty much everyone that we were expecting Schultz baby #2, so keeping the information to ourselves, and grieving privately was not an option. Each time we told someone our sad news, a rush of emotion would overwhelm me. Telling people is the hardest. Once people know your situation, it’s easier to talk about it. It’s when people talk to you for the first time since hearing of your loss and they express their condolences, that I find it hard to respond because of the massive lump in my throat and ocean of tears that threaten to spill. Luckily, I didn’t have to relay my sad information face to face to too many people. It’s times like these that I am thankful for the grapevine. In retrospect, I am also grateful that we couldn’t keep this event in our lives secret. I have been blessed by support through family and friends as we journey through a trial that many people face privately. I am thankful for all those who I know had us in their prayers.
A painfully slow week passed and nothing had changed. I went to my appointment with the intention of moving things along. To continue waiting, not knowing when or if my body was going to naturally pass my baby, I couldn’t handle waiting, over-thinking, worrying, and letting my mind play tricks on me. I am thankful for the care and attention I received from my gynecologist. She quickly got me in for another ultrasound that afternoon. It wasn’t that I thought they would magically find a heart beat, discover they were wrong or find that there was actually a live twin in my uterus, but I needed the confirmation to know without a shadow of a doubt that there was nothing living in there before I could do anything to help my body miscarry. It was for my peace of mind.
That afternoon, I had the tablets inserted that would soften my cervix and cause my uterus to contract. I chose that option rather than the D & C for a few reasons. One, I wanted to void having surgery if I could. Two, I needed to FEEL my body miscarry. I felt as though a D & C would not allow me to feel enough. To be put “under” as they removed my baby, and then wake up… it wouldn’t feel over. I don’t think it would have given me the closure I needed. So, the tablets were inserted and I went home to wait for my body to take action. I was told that it would take a few hours before I would start to bleed, to expect extreme cramping, and lots of blood. I mentally prepared myself for the worst.
The bleeding and the cramps were pretty intense that night, but actually not as bad as I had prepared for. At one point, in the middle of the night, it actually felt as though my ‘water broke’ and that is when I passed the most. I am guessing that I likely passed my baby at that point, but it’s difficult to know for sure. Mitch was very supportive throughout the whole ordeal. My sister, Carrie, came and spent the night at our house; my own private nurse. I really appreciated the care and attention I received. My body calmed down by the time the sun rose, and it was a surreal feeling to think that my pregnancy was over. Or was it over when the baby died?
I had another appointment the following week, to have yet another ultrasound and to meet with the doctor. It’s crazy to think that I had 3 ultrasounds within a month for the baby I lost, when I had 4 during the whole time I was pregnant with Jett, and even that is more than average! The ultrasound was to, again, look inside my uterus to ensure that there was no “tissue” left that could cause infection. Apparently it doesn’t matter what method of miscarrying your baby you experience, there is always a chance that there can be tissue that is left in the uterus to present difficulties. I had continued bleeding everyday since I miscarried, so I knew there was a chance I could have retained tissue. Sure enough, the ultrasound showed that to be the case. So, that surgery I was trying to avoid was booked for the next day, February 24th.
I couldn’t eat or drink anything before having the D & C, and I am accustomed to eating a hearty breakfast. By the time Mitch and I showed up at City Hospital for 9am, like we were told to, I was already famished. I was admitted right away and went up to the Day Surgery ward. I was given a private room to wait in, and a ‘stylish’ back-less gown to wear. Now, I didn’t actually have a specific surgery time, what they do is just ‘fit me in’ when there’s an opening in the OR because the surgery itself only takes about 15 minutes. Not being able to eat or drink anything makes the day exceptionally long, especially when you end up waiting until after 6:30pm to get in for surgery. I was thankful to, at least, have a private room to wait in and Mitch and I played cards and read magazines. My mom and sisters came and kept me company, too, which helped the time to pass, but I had a pretty nasty headache, I can only assume it was from being dehydrated. The day also felt long because it was the longest stretch of time I have ever spent away from my precious Jetty.
I was prepared for surgery sometime between 6:30 and 7. I had never been “put under” with general anesthetic before. It was a weird experience to be laying on the operating table, listening to the doctors and nurses talk as they worked, and then to just drift of into nothingness; a deep sleep-like state.
I remember that I started to hear things, that made me aware of my surroundings in the recovery room, before I was able to open my eyes. I tried so hard to fight off the heavy blanket of sleepiness that made it seem impossible to open my eyes because I really wanted to get through this ‘recovery’ process as quickly as possible so that I could get home to my baby. I was moved from the recovery room to the Gyno ward after the appropriate amount of time (45min-1 hour?) and there I was to continue resting until I felt alert and ready for something to eat. I had to eat and make sure that I didn’t feel sick afterwards before they would discharge me. I also had to pee before they’d let me go.
I really just wanted to go home, so I continued to fight the drowsiness that was so difficult to lift. I really didn’t like the way I felt coming out of surgery. I did not feel like myself at all. I was finally able to have some water, though, and I crunched away at the ice in the cup as an attempt to bring me back to the land of the living. Mitch was sleeping in the chair beside me. I was glad when the nurse brought me some toast, not that I was hungry (amazing, seeing as I had not eaten all day) but I wanted to keep the process moving closer to being discharged. I downed the toast, was soon after able to get up and pee, and I got out of that awful hospital gown and back into my own clothes. We were discharged with a page of ‘care’ instructions, one of the main points being to not do any heavy lifting for about two weeks. I asked for clarification as to what was “heavy” and I was told not lift more than 15-20 pounds. Well, seeing as my little guy is 23 pounds, that was an impossibility.
We finally pulled back on to our yard at around 10pm. I was glad to see my baby and to get to our own bed. I felt much more like myself the next morning.
That brings me to today, March 11th. More than a month from the day we had that first ultrasound and found out that we were not yet expanding our little family just yet. I had an appointment to follow up with my Gyno, two weeks after the D & C. Everything now appears to be settling down in my body. I would say it’s returning to normal, but what is normal? That remains to be seen.
As I reflect on this journey, several thoughts come. The horrible statistic that 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage is burnt into my mind. It is a horrific reminder that we live in a fallen world. Babies are not supposed to die at any stage during or after pregnancy. I know that it is not what God would want. I also believe that these precious babies are in heaven, yet I wrestle with the imagery. I know that scripture says that we will all receive new bodies, yet I have no likeness in my mind that I can think of to remember this baby or picture this baby in heaven. I don’t even know if the baby I lost was a boy or a girl. How will I recognize my baby in heaven?
Mitch and I have talked about doing something or getting something as a memento of this pregnancy; this baby that was in our plans for a short while, but we have not decided exactly what. Some people get tattoos, plant trees, buy a picture or a plaque; I’m not sure what is best for us.
If you have read this post all the way through, I’m amazed and I applaud you, because it’s turned into quite a book. It’s been a good process for me to write this, even if no one reads it. I never thought I would lose a baby, but I did. It hurts, but God is still good. I know that he is sovereign and I trust, Lord willing, that Mitch and I will be able to have more children in the years to come. I am sad that I will never meet my baby here on earth, but in heaven one day…
