I’ve had 5 confirmed pregnancies...possibly 6, but the exhaustion of taking pregnancy tests became so daunting that I couldn’t bare the thought of having lost another. While each loss was difficult to deal with, none compared to the first. It was a long drawn out 12 weeks of bleeding and cramping...each doctor’s visit the faint existence of a fetal heartbeat remained, but there was no growth of the fetus and the due date kept slipping by days and then weeks.
The outcome was becoming more and more apparent, but no doctor was willing to make a decision. Since a heartbeat continued to be detected, I was being told repeatedly that if the pregnancy was terminated with indications of a heartbeat remaining, it would be considered an abortion....that word is a difficult one to swallow when it isn’t a choice I’d make for myself.
Finally, in tears, one of the doctor’s in my practice decided that I’d been through enough. She made an immediate appointment at the neighboring hospital for another doctor and an operating room to have me put on the schedule for a DNC. I remember being on the OR table with tears running down my cheeks. Maybe it was those tears that encouraged the doctor on call to make the decision to send the pregnancy tissue off for testing...something not normally done after miscarriage number one.
At the end of the day, the pain still remained. The absence of knowing that the fetus was no longer dying inside me didn’t ease the pain. That struggle took weeks deal with emotionally. I’d have good and bad days, as I’m sure most do.
When I would find the courage to move on, set backs would occur. A bill was received from the hospital in which the listed procedure was ‘abortion’. How could that be? I took it personally, feeling as though this was a reflection of a decision I’d made to terminate my baby.
Then, there was the call from the operating physician. Test results were in. In the most insensitive way, she said, ‘Good news...the pregnancy tissue was healthy. The reason for the miscarriage was a chromosome issue with the fetus...feel free to try again.’ All as if this pregnancy, baby, was a viable loss...this baby was wanted just as much as any child I would have.
The last blow came when she ended with, ‘And, by the way, it was a girl.’ My heart sank and the tears flowed as I sat at my desk in the office. What would she have grown up to be like? She would have been beautiful and strong. She would have been the best big sister to her brothers who would have followed.
Shortly after, another miscarriage followed. Then finally a happy healthy baby boy arrived...a blessing. Then more loss, at least one but possibly two, before another amazing son. I will forever be grateful for the two amazing boys in my life, and will always wonder what those other angels would have been like.