Samantha: 22 Months, Week 1 {The Loss of Life}

This week started off like any other normal week.  We went off to work, went about our normal routine, clueless as to the circumstances that were about to turn our lives upside down, devastating us to the core of our beings.  For those of you who do not wish to read about some details of our miscarriage, as noted in the title of my blog post, you may want to stop reading here.  I won't even be sharing much about Samantha in this blog, and I have no pictures or videos to share from this week.  However, writing is healing to my soul, and I want to record the experience of our miscarriage, partly for my own well-being, and also in hopes that my story can minister to someone else who has, is, or will be going through the same thing.  Women don't speak of miscarriage.  Even before I experienced one, I knew of women that had had one, but didn't know anything about the trauma of how it feels physically, the pain of searing loss you feel emotionally, and the gut wrenching doubts and despair of dreams crushed.  I guess maybe no one talks about it because when someone is pregnant you don't want to ruin their joy by speaking of what "could" happen.  You want to revel in the joy of the life inside your womb, not fixate on all that could go wrong, that there is a 1 in 4 chance that the life inside you could be snuffed out, not because of anything you did or didn't do, but just because of some weird act of nature.  Anyways, here is the beginning of my story through the dredges of miscarriage.

Monday after school I was sitting on the couch playing with Samantha, reading her stories, and all of a sudden, I sneezed.  I felt a wet sensation, almost as if I had wet myself, which wouldn't be completely unheard of for a pregnant lady, but usually not this early on in a pregnancy.  I rushed off to the bathroom and noticed it was not urine, but some mixture of fluid with blood.  This scared me quite a lot, as any sight of blood while you are pregnant sends up a warning sign and could be a cause for concern.  Nothing else much happened that night, just some light spotting which is considered somewhat normal during pregnancy.  Since it was after hours, I decided to wait until the next day to call the doctor and see if they had any recommendations about whether this was normal or something that warranted me coming into the office to get checked out.  During the day on Tuesday it seemed to taper off, I was having some brown discharge, almost like at the end of my period.  When I called the doctor and spoke to the nurse about my symptoms, she said that some brown discharge is normal, but it shouldn't be enough that I need a pad like a period.  Also, it shouldn't be heavy or bright red.  If that happened, she encouraged me to call back.

Tuesday night, it turned from brown to red and I was also having mild cramps, kind of like period cramps.  I emailed some of my friends that have had babies to see if this sounded normal, of if I should try to call my doctor again, and they encouraged me to call and try to get in for an ultrasound, just to make sure everything was okay and give me peace of mind.  In the meantime, I made the mistake of looking on the internet about bleeding/spotting during pregnancy.  It is never a good idea to go browsing around on the internet because there are so many horror stories posted about every possible physical condition, and at least with me it makes me jump to the worst possible conclusion.

Wednesday I called the doctor as soon as they opened and talked to them about my bleeding and cramping.  Unfortunately, my doctor was out of the office until Friday, so if I wanted an ultrasound, I would have to go into the hospital to have it done.  I wasn't sure if my bleeding and cramping warranted something where I should go into the hospital.  It never seemed as bad as how the nurse described it should be if I were indeed having a problem with my pregnancy.  Plus, during the day it always tapered off and the cramping stopped.  The nurse told me to call her after school and let her know how I was feeling and if the bleeding continued.  By the end of the day, the bleeding had tapered off again, so we decided it was probably okay unless things got worse over the next day or two.  She just told me to take it easy, so I stayed home from my exercise class and rested.  However, that night the cramping came back and was more intense than the night before.  At this point, I was definitely concerned about my baby and how my pregnancy was going.  Ben convinced me to call the doctor back again the next day and set up a time to go in and get an ultrasound done at the hospital.  We had an appointment scheduled for the following Tuesday, the 26th, the appointment we were supposed to have our first ultrasound to determine the exact due date of our little precious baby; but, we didn't want to wait until then to figure out if everything was okay or not.  I called the office and left a message requesting an ultrasound to be scheduled for me at the hospital the next day, knowing they would get the message first thing in the morning and begin working on scheduling the appointment right away before I would be able to call them from school during my free time.

Wednesday night before bed I wrote in my journal, something that I have not been very consistent with lately.  Ever since college I have kept some sort of prayer journal, some seasons being more faithful than others.  However, this night I was terrified and had to pour out my feelings before my Heavenly Father, the only one who truly knows me for who I am.  Here is a portion of what I wrote: "Be with the precious baby in my womb.  Protect and hold it in your loving, Sovereign hands.  After all, the baby is Yours."  I had no idea how true those words would actually become as the reality of life lost set in over the next couple days.

Thursday morning I received a phone call shortly after 9 a.m., letting me know that they scheduled an ultrasound for me at the hospital for 11:30 a.m.  I was to be at the hospital by 11:00 and had to drink a lot of water (don't remember the exact amount) by 10:00 in preparation for the ultrasound.  I quickly went about arranging for things at school to be taken care of and the rest of the morning was a blur.  I taught math and talked to people, but have no idea what I said.  All I could think about was going to the hospital and finding out what was happening with my baby, this little one that I had already grown to love, this little one that I had already dreamed about, spending evenings planning the future of our family of four with Ben and Samantha.  I don't have any words to describe how I felt.  I didn't know what to expect.  I still felt silly going into the hospital for something that I hoped would turn out to be nothing, but I desperately wanted answers for the nagging doubts and fears that lurked in my mind.  Another teacher at the school covered my class for me since it was such a last minute thing.  In the confidence of my empty classroom, she asked me if everything was okay, and I said no, that I had been cramping and bleeding, and that I was going into the hospital for an ultrasound to see if my baby was okay.  She instantly asked if she could pray for me and before any words came out of her mouth, tears came streaming down my cheeks.  She prayed that everything would be okay and that we would discover my baby was healthy and growing strong.  I packed up my things and headed to the hospital with my very full bladder.

Ben met me at the hospital.  Waiting in the surgical services waiting area seemed like an eternity.  I was praying to God that everything would be okay, that I would not be finding out that I lost my baby.  We were brought into the back by a nice looking lady, escorted into the room with the ultrasound machine.  She asked me, "How are you today?" to which I responded "Good."  After I said that, I thought to myself, good?, I am nowhere near good.  My heart was in the pit of my stomach.  I laid down on the table, rolled down the top of my maternity pants, and Ben immediately laid his hand on my arm, rubbing it consolingly.  We glanced into each other's eyes, giving each other a tearful half smile as we turned back to the monitor.  The nurse rubbed the instrument on my lower abdomen, searching around for the baby growing in my womb.  Not being a specialist in this area, I didn't know what to look for except for my experience from our first ultrasound with Samantha.  The nurse was silent and cold, no words were said and her face was expressionless.  I knew from my pregnancy with Samantha that we should be able to not only hear a heartbeat, but also be able to see it's tiny flicker of white on the screen.  I did not hear or or see anything and the tears began to roll down my cheeks, wetting the hair behind my ears.  Very matter of factly, the nurse asked me to go into the restroom, empty my bladder, and take my clothes off from the waist down so she could do a vaginal ultrasound to get a better look inside my uterus.  

Again, I was laying on my back on the table with Ben at my side while the nurse searched again for any signs of life.  At one point she switched on whatever it is that records heartbeats.  I heard a heartbeat, glanced over at Ben and smiled-- thinking, praying, hoping, that that was the heartbeat of my baby.  However, it was slow, not like the fast-paced heartbeat I remember from all the times we heard Samantha's heartbeat prenatally.  It was a glimmer of hope that was quickly smashed into pieces when a little later the nurse turned it on again and I saw a straight line go across the screen, followed by the nurse quickly turning it off.  It was then I knew in the deepest part of my soul that my baby no longer had a heartbeat.  It was so shocking that the reality of it didn't quite settle in yet, especially because there was no official word from the nurse.  She remained silent, telling me I could go back and get dressed in the restroom.  

When I came back out, I decided to ask the nurse if she could tell us anything, if she could find a heartbeat at all.  She beat around the bush for awhile, saying that she was technically not allowed to tell us anything since she was not my doctor.  You could tell she was really struggling internally with what to say to us as we stood there in front of her, begging for some clarity.  She went on to say, since we weren't going to be seeing our doctor until the next day, she didn't want us leaving the hospital not knowing, assuming that everything was okay.  So, she finally said that she could not find a heartbeat.  I should have been about 12 weeks along, but the baby only measured at 8 weeks, 2 days.  My heart stopped, and I started sobbing.  She handed Ben the tissue box and said she would step outside the room and give us some time, that we could come out when we were ready.  I melted into Ben's arms and sobbed tears of the deepest sorrow I have ever felt.  Our tears fell together for the loss of our baby.  What do you say to your husband or wife after the loss of your child?  We were speechless.  We left the hospital in a daze, in a state of unbelief of the news we just heard.  The hospital, once a place marked with the joy of the birth of our firstborn, now having the feeling of death, sorrow, and sadness.  Ben called school for me, letting them know I would not be back that day, and we headed home.

Samantha was still at the babysitter's house, so our house felt so empty.  I didn't know what to do with myself.  I could not stop crying.  I was exhausted in every way possible and numb with disbelief.  I had not eaten any lunch, but couldn't bring myself to eat anything.  I approached Ben in the kitchen, hugging him and crying into his chest.  Then, I pulled back, looking into his loving eyes, and asked if I could tell him something.  I shared with him that God gave me a nice image after we found out about our baby at the hospital.  I instantly had a picture of our Heavenly Father cradling our little baby in the palm of His hand, jut like the image on the ultrasound machine, but in His loving hand.  Ben said, "Yeah, I know," with the most pained look of sadness I have ever seen, pulling me back into his embrace.

Not knowing what to do, I got out my Bible and journal, voicing my many questions to the God that will bear all my burdens: "What do we do now?  How do we deal with our grief?  Why did God take this baby from us?  What happened that made me miscarry?  What would this little one have looked like?  What about all the plans we made for the coming year with our new apartment and me staying home next year?  I feel strange knowing that I have a dead baby inside me.  What are they gonna have to do now?  How soon can we try for another one?"  Then, I re-read the words I wrote the previous day, "Be with the precious baby in my womb.  Protect and hold it in your loving, Sovereign hands.  After all, the baby is Yours."  I believe that God gave me that picture for a reason.  He heard my prayers last night and give me that picture to reassure me that He answered my prayer.  He was indeed holding my precious baby in His loving, Sovereign hands.

I stayed home from school on Friday, not being able to bear being around people so soon.  Plus, I had a follow up appointment with Dr. Crooke at 9:30 to discuss the results of our ultrasound.  We dropped Samantha off at the babysitter's house so we could go to our appointment.  The doctor said that I could either wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally or we could schedule a Dilation and Curettage surgery.  After talking to a close friend from Texas who is an ultrasound technician and hearing from some friends' experiences with miscarriages the night before, I knew that I would rather have the D and C surgery.  I did not want to see and experience the passing of my baby.  I did not want the process to be long and drawn out.  Having the surgery put me in a better place for making sure my uterus was cleaned out and in a better place to be healthy for another growing baby sooner.  We scheduled the surgery for the next Friday, the 29th, Good Friday, since I already had the day off of school.  I kept it together fairly well for the appointment, but when we were checking out, scheduling the time for the surgery and pre-operation appointment, the office lady started crying with me and I couldn't hold it in any longer.  I left the office, passing all the other happy pregnant ladies in the waiting room, with tears streaming down my face and Ben's strong arm wrapped around my shoulders.

This weekend we were supposed to drive up to Chicago for a wedding for a friend from high school, and I thought about still going as a way to distract myself from the feelings of sadness, doubt, grief, and emptiness.  I felt unable to function normally, not being able to play and laugh with Samantha like I usually do.  Ben allowed me to sleep in that morning, running out and doing errands for me so that I didn't have to, but being alone was not good for me.  I remember walking around the apartment, attempting to get ready for our trip to Chicago and I would just start sobbing uncontrollably.  I could not even think clearly enough to know what to pack or even what decision to make about whether we should still travel or not.  Then, just as it came to a time I had to make a decision because we were coming up on Samantha's nap time, I heard a knock at the door.  I went down the stairs to answer it and there stood a delivery man with a vase of flowers for me from a sweet friend, Cecelia, at school.  I eat lunch with her every day at school and she knew about my pregnancy and my plans for next year.  Immediately, I broke into tears, going upstairs to show Ben the flowers, crying and telling him that I didn't think we should go because I won't be able to handle it.  I just can't stop crying, how would I be able to go to a wedding and act like everything is happy and okay?

The rest of the weekend was a blur.  Ben and I did a lot of crying.  He was a great support to me, helping out around the house and with Samantha when he could tell I was not in a position where I could function that way.  The bleeding and cramping increased over the weekend, and especially on Friday night.  I used the heating pad throughout each evening and that seemed to ease some of the discomfort.  I also took ibuprofen, but that didn't seem to relieve that dull pain I felt in my lower abdomen.  I was very scared about still having a natural miscarriage.  I did not want my baby to fall out of my body into the toilet like a piece of trash.  Every time I went to the bathroom I was reminded of the loss of my baby.  Every time I changed clothes I was reminded of the loss of my baby.  Every time I touched my belly I was reminded of the loss of my baby.  There were reminders everywhere: our new three bedroom apartment that we got because we were expecting, the empty bedroom waiting the life of a newborn, everything.

On Saturday, Ben's parents came down to Bloomington to be with us, but mostly to help out with Samantha.  We found that we just didn't have the energy to deal with a toddler.  She obviously had no idea what was going on, and we were trying our best not to upset her by the way we were acting.  It was a welcome distraction, and Ben and I were able to get out of the house for a little while by ourselves.

We decided to go to church on Sunday, wanting to be wrapped in the presence of our Father.  I could not bring myself to sing.  Singing praise to God was too hard for me to do, the grief and pain were too raw for me.  I stood there in the middle of the sanctuary, once again wrapped in Ben's strong arm, tears flowing freely down my face, letting the words of praise wash over my broken heart.  Later that day I wrote in my journal the verse that my dear friend Melanie shared with me.  This verse spoke to her after she had her miscarriage: Isaiah 65:17-20a & 23, "Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth.  The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.  But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create, for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy.  I will rejoice over Jerusalem and take delight in my people; the sound of weeping and crying will be heard in it no more.  Never again will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days,...They will not toil in vain or bear children doomed to misfortune; for they will be a people blessed by the Lord, they and their descendants with them."  I was still full of many doubts and questions.  God could have easily reached in and healed whatever it was that caused my baby not to grow and develop.  Why would God not even give an infant chance at life?  Thinking of the Isaiah passage reminded me that we are not living in the new heavens and the new earth.  We still have mortal bodies that go through pain, suffering, disease, and illness.  I knew that God's ways and plans are greater than any of my feeble plans, but at that moment, all I felt was dreams crushed, plans halted, heart broken, and wonder about why God chose this road for me and my family.