"I don't see a heartbeat..."
“Do you want to see?"
“Yes, we would see a heartbeat by now."
“The baby stopped growing two weeks ago."
“You had a 'missed miscarriage'."
These are the words spoken to me on April 19th, 2021 at the emergency room. And, I don't understand. I don't want this to be our story. I don't know how to move forward from here.
We lost our baby. Our tiny, precious, 4th baby.
Over the weekend of April 17th I noticed a small amount of spotting. I also had some inconsistent light cramps. Nothing seemed abnormal or worrisome.
The next night, I noticed a bit more consistency to the spotting so I reached out to my midwife. I knew I would see her Tuesday but she recommended I go for an ultrasound Monday (April 19th) to gather some information, specifically about the placenta. Monday was a really hard day. Getting a last minute appointment was nearly impossible. I was finally given an appointment at 2pm- they told me about it at 1:30pm! I was able to leave the girls with a friend but Logan had to come with me on such short notice. They refused to see me because my 3 year old son was with me, even though they did not tell me anything about children not being allowed. I left in tears, so defeated.
Later that night, I had a gut feeling to drive myself to the ER. I almost felt silly, like surely I wasn’t an emergency they were just going to send me home. But they were glad I came, they did some bloodwork and scheduled an ultrasound. I waited in my room alone for 3 hours, during which time a few nurses checked on me and did bloodwork. One doctor came in and explained best and worst case scenarios. I hardly paid attention to the worst case scenarios thinking surely it was irrelevant information. Finally, I went for my ultrasound. The tech quickly turned the screen away from me, then, she said “I don’t see a heartbeat.” It was as if someone ripped my heart out & I thought I was going to be sick. This couldn’t be happening. I had been nauseous, showing, exhausted... how was this not a healthy baby? She told me that although I was over 11 weeks, the baby measured only 9 weeks meaning it had already been days or even weeks since the baby had passed away.
After the heartbreaking news at the ultrasound, I didn’t know what to say or do. I had to call my husband and tell him & relive it all over again.
Then, I waited for another hour alone in my room, questioning everything, crying, screaming, begging any nurse who walked by to send the doctor in so I could get my paperwork and go home. I just kept crying & wondering how I was ever going to tell the kids! The doctor finally came in, and I did my best to understand what he told me. A missed miscarriage is just what it sounds like. Even though our baby had passed away, my body continued on with the pregnancy. My body was carrying this baby, even though their soul had went to be with Jesus weeks prior.
I hardly remember the ride home. I was just on autopilot. I collapsed into my husband’s arms & we just didn’t even know what to do to begin to process this.
Telling the kids My husband brought the girls downstairs, my son was still sleeping. We gently explained that our baby had passed away and went home to be with Jesus. One of my daughters began crying & asking all the questions. My other daughter, fighting back tears, asked us if it was okay to be mad at God My husband left for work, and my son came downstairs. He’s only 3, but totally comprehensive of this pregnancy. When the girls & I told him, he instantly began screaming and shrieking as loud as if he had been stung by a bee. He only began to calm down when I showed him my ultrasound. He pointed to the baby’s head, and body. He kissed my belly. Telling the kids was like reliving that initial pain all over again.
The Physical
We were hopeful that my body would realize what it needed to do & that I would miscarry at home. It was hard to pray for. Emotional pain & relief came when the bleeding started on Wednesday afternoon, 2 days later.
I went into labor at home that night (April 21st 2021) which was excruciating, painful, & heart wrenching. My midwife told me I would labor, but I had no idea it would be full-blown labor pains, contractions, & all for not getting to hold a baby in my arms at the end of it. My midwife texted me reminding me to breathe, listen to music, pray, dim the nights, get into the shower... It just all felt so unfair. After 4 hours, my contractions slowed down to cramps. Turns out my body was going into shock. I couldn’t manage my bleeding & my midwife told me to go to the hospital. I was bleeding 4 times more than I should have been & passing multiple blood clots the size of my palm. An ambulance picked me up around 11pm, my husband was home with the kids who, thankfully were sleeping through this part.
This next part was a blur. The ER doctor wasn’t taking this seriously. I was told that of course I was be bleeding, since I was miscarrying. They didn’t run proper tests or even check me more than once. Over the phone my midwife was advocating for me to get care from an OB. So much happened during this time I can’t even remember it all. By 2am, the nurse discharged me. I came for heavy bleeding, which was still happening, so I did not feel settled about leaving but they literally told me they needed my room for emergency patients.
My MIL picked me up. I had an anxiety attack. I couldn’t control my breathing. My midwife said I shouldn’t fill a pad in less than 20 minutes. In the 20 minute ride home, I bled through a pad, underwear, 2 blankets, & a bed pad. When I stood up to get out of her truck, blood poured down my legs. Mark opened the door & I blacked out in a pool of blood in my foyer. He got me upstairs to try to clean me off, and I blacked out again.
At this point, I was laying on my tile bathroom floor, I felt my body failing & all of my strength was gone. Earlier that night when my labor had first begun, Logan looked at me and said “mommy, what happens if your heart stops too? Who will take care of us?” In that moment, my sons words rang in my ears, I looked up at my husband while laying on the floor, and said with the little strength I had left “call 911.”
The paramedics arrived, now it was around 3am. They took one look at me and got the stretcher. I passed out, and woke up as were were driving. My blood pressure was below 61/40 and my body was heading towards cardiac arrest and I began hemorrhaging. The paramedics saved my life in the ambulance.
We arrived back at the ER, this time with the paramedics advocating for me, and my husband. They elevated my feet, kept my head low, had 2 IVs going and send an OB in to do another exam. I was in such better care. So thankful for the nurses this time as well as my midwife who had been texting me all night. But, I kept having episodes of my blood pressure dropping dangerously low. At this point, the only way to save my life was to do an emergency d&c. It was the last thing I wanted but I had no choice. I was so scared. My nurse moved me to the room for the surgery. Again, the communication was terrible- no one knew I had come from the ER or that I was even bleeding. I literally had to just give it all to God, since I didn’t have it in me to explain anything. I actually just cried myself to sleep. They did the procedure, I woke up a couple of hours later. They gave me post-op care instructions as if all I went though was the d&c so again, so thankful for my midwife who spoke with me when I got home that day and gave me true post-op instructions.
At this point, I’m on the road to recovery physically. And then, I can try to process this all emotionally. I feel like 10 years worth of stuff happened in those two days. My husband almost lost his wife. We lost our baby... it’s all just so surreal.