This page was started on 27th October 2000. ... And added to whenever I was able to or felt up to it or had something to add.
To view my most recent entry (14th February 2001), click on ribbon.
On 2nd September 2000, I found out that I was pregnant. On 17th October 2000, I found out that my baby had died and that I had had a "missed miscarriage".
Please read on to understand more about what happened and how I have been affected by it. This was especially written as way for me to express my feelings about having a miscarriage. I have found it to be quite therapeutic. It was also written for my friends and relatives to read and to help them to understand that we do not get over something like this overnight. ... And that just because a few weeks have passed, does not mean that I am better and that I do not think about what happened any more. A few more phone calls, notes or words of encouragement would have been appreciated.
I would also like to thank my co-worker and friend, Anita, for her support and understanding. She seems to be the only person in my entourage who truly understands what it is like to go through a miscarriage. Her dream about my pregnancy and giving birth early (not knowing that I was pregnant) freaked me out.
Thank you also to Kimberley who let me spend a couple of days with her in Ottawa when Steve left for his two week business trip only two weeks after my miscarriage. I was going crazy at home by myself with no one to talk to.
I was one week late. Somehow Steve noticed and he wanted me to take a urine test. I thought that it was too early. I took it anyway. It was positive. My first reaction was, "Damn, I won't be able to drink at Kathy's bachelorette party tonight." My next reaction was, "Could it really be?" We had been trying for so long. It really was. Just to make sure, Steve spoke to a friend of ours who is a physician. He said that the only times that home pregnancy tests might be wrong are when they are negative. He sent me for a blood test anyway. Result: I was pregnant.
I no longer had a family doctor since she had stopped practicing in the spring. I also did not have a gynaecologist, since my family doctor performed all the necessary examinations. It took a while to find someone. My neighbour and walking partner is a physician. I told her about my pregnancy and asked her how to go about finding an obstetrician. A couple of days later, she had given me a list of high risk (I am over 35) obstetricians from the hospital I had chosen.
I had my first prenatal visit at 9.3 weeks and everything was great. My uterus was the right size for the number of weeks. I was fine too. The only external physical symptom that I had during this pregnancy was very sore breasts. I had no nausea at all. My obstetrician seemed happy saying that this was the case in only 15% of pregnancies and that I must have done something right in my life. She gave me a list of tests that she wanted me to do by my next visit and also gave me information on prenatal testing. I made an appointment to see her again four weeks later. Everything was great! I was now ready to tell my parents and some close friends.
My parents were happy. This was to be their first grandchild. A few days later, we told our close friends whom we had invited for Thanksgiving. They were quite excited asking us which would be the baby's room (the empty one without the queen size bed in it), and had we picked names yet (one of our friends liked "Ariel" for a girl. Another suggested "Bubba" for a boy!). A couple of days after that, we then made a web page announcement. My cousins were sent the link. Everyone else would be told after my next pre-natal appointment.
That appointment never came.
It is now ten days since I lost the baby I was carrying. I was only 11.4 weeks pregnant.
I began spotting on a Sunday. We had just cut down the hedges around our back yard to prepare our yard for winter. I carried the branches to the front for them to be picked up. They were not heavy, so I knew that it was not the cause. Monday morning, all was fine. In the evening it started again. Steve insisted I call my doctor's office. I did so the next morning to reassure him. I was not worried. The receptionist told me to get an ultrasound that day just to see what was going on. I could not get through to the ultrasound department, but Steve finally did. They told us go in before they closed at the end of the day. I left work early telling my supervisor that something had come up (no one at work had been told).
Steve picked me up so we could get to the hospital faster. After registering, we waited in the waiting room for my turn to come. He was wondering if he should have brought the video camera since this was the first time that we would see the baby. He was still a little concerned, but I was still not.
The technician called us into the room and asked me to expose my belly. She started running the probe on my lower abdomen. Doing so, she asked me the date of my last menstrual period, was I regular, my age, if this was my first pregnancy. She then quickly turned off the monitor and said she would need to do a vaginal probe and could I remove my pants. She returned with a doctor.
I was little puzzled. The doctor asked me the same questions that the technician had asked. Now, I was getting worried. After a couple of minutes, the technician turned off the monitor and left the room. The doctor came closer to us and told us that they could not detect the baby's heartbeat and that the baby had died a couple of weeks earlier. In other words, I had had a "missed" miscarriage. My uterus was the size of 7.6 weeks. I was carrying a dead baby.
She left us alone and went to call my obstetrician. Steve and I did not speak. I got dressed. The doctor came back and told us that my obstetrician wanted to see me right away and that she would wait for us at her office. She gave us two copies of the ultrasound report, one for us and one for my obstetrician.
We left the hospital in silence. I kept reading the report over and over again, especially the words "fetal demise". I had seen those words so often in reference to women that I had to admit to the hospital birthing centre. They never hit me as hard as they did at that moment.
My obstetrician took me in as soon as I arrived at her office. She was very sympathetic. She did a quick exam. She told me that my uterus was smaller than at the time of my last visit. She explained to me that after an intrauterine fetal death, the body begins to re-absorb the fetus, making it look smaller that it's actual age. She did not want to do a dilatation and curettage right away, telling me that dilating the cervix which was still very tight and forcing it open at that time might cause some damage. She scheduled me for another visit 6 days later and for a dilatation and curettage that same week. That meant that I would have to carry my dead baby for another week. I did not know how I would make it.
We left her office. It is difficult to explain how I was feeling. It was a mixture of numbness, disbelief, and immense sadness. I felt like my whole world was crashing down on me. We still had to go pick up my car. I did not know how I would be able to drive home. I did somehow manage to get home with tears streaming down my face.
I did not go to work the next day or the rest of the week and the following week. I could not eat or sleep for the next couple of days. I was too numb. All I could do was cry. That weekend, the cramps and bleeding began. On Sunday, it was all over. My body had expelled my baby.
I returned to see my obstetrician the following day. She did an internal exam, and then sent me for an ultrasound. The technician could find no trace of anything in my uterus. It was so final at that point. I knew that there was nothing left for me to do but to go home and try to get on with my life.
That was when it really hit me. My baby was dead. I was angry and upset. I had no answers for what happened or why it happened, only questions and shattered dreams. I still often wonder why me? I have been told that one in five pregnancies ends this way. However, that means that four in five do not. Why did I have to be the "one"? I know that I will never be the same. I loved something I never touched or felt but this baby touched me in a way I will never understand.
I had known about the baby for almost seven weeks. I had begun to make plans for it. I wondered if it was a boy or a girl (I was sure that it was a boy, Steve was convinced that it was a girl). I started to think about names for the baby. I looked at cribs and Steve looked at car seats. My heart and my mind had started to grow and fill with love, images, thoughts and dreams about everything relating to this baby. I had wanted a baby for so long and now I finally had one on the way.
However, I will never get to hold my baby. I will never get to hear a first gurgle or see a first smile. I will never know what this baby would have been like or who, if anyone (s)he would have resembled. I have been told there was probably something wrong with the baby and that this was probably for the best. Logically, I can understand that, but it does not lessen my pain. I feel so empty.
I hope that with time, the pain will lessen and that I will come to grips with what happened. I still do not know how I feel. Most of the time I feel as though it happened in another lifetime. We have gotten back to our normal routines. I still cry whenever I let myself think about it or whenever something happens to remind me.
I am not sure if I want to try to have another baby again. We had tried for so long and it only ended in disaster. I do not want to go through that again. I am afraid to go through that again.
18th December 2000.
Christmas is arriving soon. I am not able to get into a festive mood. We put up a small tree this year, not the usual big one. We will not be throwing our annual Holiday bash. A couple of our friends are taking over this year, "to give us a break", they said. I am glad to be working on Christmas Eve and on Christmas day that way, I will not be available to partake of family events. I am still sad on some days and angry on others. I still feel grief and a sense of loss for this baby. My female friends seem to understand my moods. My male friends do not.
27th December, 2000.
Yesterday, I found out that my younger cousin is pregnant. She is in the hospital with severe nausea and vomiting. I was upset when I found out about her pregnancy. I am the one who was supposed to be having a baby, not her. Of course I felt guilty for my feelings. I do wish her all the best for her pregnancy. However, I have not been able to call her to speak to her. I am afraid that if I do, I will break down and cry and I do not want her to hear that. (My eyes are welling up with tears as I am writing this).
My co-worker Anita and I switched jobs over the holidays. She went up to the birthing centre for me and took care of registering the women and their babies. She did not think that I should have to deal with that during the holidays. I asked her how long it took her to get over her miscarriage. She told me that she still thinks about it to this day. ... four years later. Now, I do not feel as bad.
3rd January 2001.
Today, Steve's cousin called to tell us that she had given birth to her third child this morning (her third son). She had never been told about my pregnancy. Steve almost told her when she was asking when we would be having children. He thought that it was fun that the two of us were pregnant at the same time. She has gone through three uneventful pregnancies and had no problems conceiving.
I do not know how long I will be able to stall going to her house to see her new son. I have managed to avoid seeing her since my miscarriage. I feel bad about that too, but I knew that I could not face her.
14th February 2001.
One of my co-workers became a grandmother for the first time last week. Another one will become one in the next few weeks. It seems all anyone ever talks about at my office is babies. My co-worker's son lives in Toronto and he keeps his mother up to date on his wife's pregnancy by sending her e-mails. The last one contained ultrasounds of the fetus. I happened to walk in while several people were looking at the ultrasounds and figuring out which part was which. I could not even look at them. I kept my head down the whole time and got ready to leave faster than usual. I mumbled my goodbyes to everyone and quickly left. I was very upset. The last time that I had seen an ultrasound was of my baby ... and (s)he was dead.
Will these feelings ever go away?
