The morning I woke up and took a pregnancy test was the happiest moment in my life. I knew it would be positive and I was right. I knew the moment that conception occurred and I was positive from that moment that I was going to have a boy. I just knew. I knew it in my heart.
I enjoyed the new life inside of me quietly with my husband. We would wait until later to tell everyone. I was thrilled that I was constantly hungry! I loved it when I began to gain weight! I was proud when my jeans no longer fit me! Being pregnant was what I had always hoped and dreamed for! Now it was here and I couldn’t be happier!
At six weeks I got sick. I developed a fever and I was scared for my baby. The doctor said that I could lose the baby, but it was unlikely. I got over my sickness and continued to carry my child.
At seven weeks I had an ultrasound and I saw the baby’s heartbeat for the first time! I was so overjoyed! I can’t begin to describe the way I felt in those moments! The baby looked good and was developing fine! I felt like I could begin to relax more and stop worrying about the fever.
When I went in to my appointment with the doctor at 11 ½ weeks I was scared to death. That afternoon I had started to spot brown. It wasn’t a lot, but even a little was too much. I called my husband at work and almost cried as I described what was happening. He calmed me down. I had to wait a very long hour before I could go in to see the doctor for my scheduled appointment. I was a nervous wreck by the time I got there. She did an exam and all felt and looked in place. Finally, she got out the doppler and checked the heartbeat. There it was – loud and clear. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life! I started crying. He was ok. My baby would be fine. Maybe the brown spotting was coming from something else. I was told that chances were lower now that we had heard the heartbeat and had seen a fetal pole on the ultrasound that I would loose the baby.
I was still nervous about the spotting and went in at least once a week to have the heartbeat checked. It was always there beating strong and steady. Each time I was relieved and felt silly for being so apprehensive about everything.
I had another ultrasound at 12 weeks. The baby was moving around and swinging his arms and legs. He even had the hiccups. We laughed as we saw him bounce against the walls of my uterus. It was amazing to see him moving so much and I couldn’t feel a thing. The ultrasound didn’t show where the bleeding was coming from, but it did show a healthy baby at the right size. Again I was reassured that all would be fine.
One afternoon, four days after my ultrasound, the spotting changed to red. I was scared, but I thought it would probably go away or turn out the same as it had in the past. They had said that it could be a broken blood vessel and since I had done some cleaning and a small amount of exercise that day, I thought that that was probably what had happened. About six days after the red spotting started, I passed a large blood clot. I called the doctor and they said it was normal if I had blood that had gathered around my cervix. Don’t worry. But of course I did. I scheduled a time to go in and have the heartbeat checked once again.
I went in the day after I passed the blood clot. I was very anxious. I was even more anxious then I had been in the past. I had a feeling of doom. I woke up with that feeling and cried on my husband’s shoulder that morning because I was sure that I would not hear the heartbeat. As the nurse looked for the heartbeat, my heart sunk deeper and deeper. She finally found the heartbeat. It was as strong and steady as it had always been. I did not feel relieved. I spoke for a long time with the nurse and I began to cry. I should have been happy that I heard the heartbeat, but I was not relieved for some reason. The chance of miscarriage was still there. I could still lose my baby. No one could tell me why I was bleeding or how to stop it.
On my way home, I wanted to be positive so I went to the store and bought a maternity skirt that was on sale. It didn’t help my feeling that something was going to go wrong. That night was very hard. I was very down and miserable. Things did not feel right.
The next morning was no better. The doctor called to talk with me at work because she knew that I was upset. She gave me all of the possible scenarios. I felt somewhat better after having spoken with her, but not entirely. She did say that because I was in my 2nd trimester and the baby had looked fine in all of the ultrasounds that I could just bleed through my pregnancy with a possibility of pre-term labor. There were still no definite answers.
That afternoon I had planning time in my room. I don’t know what came over me, but I cleaned my desk entirely and arranged everything so that an outsider could find everything easily. I even put little notes on my plans for the next week so anyone could follow them. It was like I knew something was going to happen.
I got home that night and decided that I should rest on the couch. As I was driving home that day and when I was still at school I experienced some gas pains so I wanted them to go away before we went out to dinner that night with my in-laws. By the time my husband got home, the pain was worse and not better. In fact, the pains were not constant, but coming rather rhythmic and getting worse. I mentioned to my husband that when I had the gas pains, I had pains in my thighs as well. That had never happened before and we were baffled, but pregnancy things often baffled us. When I had to start to breathe through the pain and felt very tired and sleepy in between, I knew something was wrong. I began to time my pains. The time between my pains was only around 2 ½ minutes! I called the doctor on call, but she was unavailable. We went into the emergency. By that time the pains were very severe and I could not sit down.
We waited for what seemed like an eternity before we were ushered into a small room. During the time we waited, the pain got worse and closer together. I had to lean against the wall and hold onto the railing while I breathed through the pain. I no longer could talk while I was having a pain. When we went into the room I felt a “pop” inside and told my husband. I told him that that was not a good thing. In my head I was sure that I was in labor and having our baby way too early. He was sure that all would be fine. The next moments were very intense. I was in so much pain that I could not sit or lay on my back. I was on all fours on the hospital bed moaning as quietly as I could while the nurse tried to put an IV in me. My husband and I could only think of the baby. Why didn’t they use a doppler to check his heartbeat? Why didn’t they take me to an ultrasound right away? But the doctors were more concerned for me and of course we had no idea what was happening. After many pokes and a lot of bleeding the IV was in and I sat back while the pains were on top of each other with no relief.
They wheeled me up to the ultrasound room where a young woman greeted us. She put the jelly on my belly like had been done so many times before and looked around for the baby. I still continued to have terrible pain while she looked at what was going on inside of me. “Is he ok?” “Is there a heartbeat?” She couldn’t find the baby. She told us that maybe she could see things more clearly with a vaginal ultrasound. I felt numb. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that she couldn’t see my baby. He was too big. If he wasn’t in my uterus where was he? My husband thought that she just couldn’t do her job right.
I felt as if I had to go to the bathroom so I walked down the hall carrying my IV. I shut and locked the door. As I sat down, I pushed and out came my firstborn son. He was hanging by his umbilical cord. I cried out for my husband. I grabbed my baby in my hand. He was so small and delicate, but I could see his arms, legs, and head. He looked perfect and beautiful to me. The child I had longed for with my whole being. The one I had planned the rest of my life around was here and there was nothing anyone could do to make the dreams I had had for my family be true. He was born on April 12, 2002 around 7:45 pm in the hospital at 14 weeks 3 days gestation. My baby was gone. My dreams were lost.
My husband came running when I cried out and started banging on the door. I opened it and handed him the baby. I don’t know what I said. I can only remember my heart shattering, the feeling of complete and utter misery that I had failed my son and my family. I sobbed. We went back to the ultrasound room. There was no one there. When they heard me sobbing and most likely wailing, they came back and saw what had happened. The young woman who had performed the ultrasound began to cry. Her tears fell fast and furious. I felt so sorry that I had made her sad, but I was more concerned that my husband was still holding our child and that seemed like torture to me. They finally took the baby and put him in a container and covered it with a towel. They set the container on my bed while they wheeled me back down to the small room.
A doctor came in and said how sorry he was. He said that he had to do an exam to see if I had been damaged by the birth. All was fine. I was happy to accept more pain relief in my IV. I was still having some strong contractions. They took me back up to have another ultrasound. We had to find the placenta.
My husband and I felt so sorry for the young woman we had seen earlier. She had been so upset. We saw her again and I told her how sorry I was that she had to be there for such a sad event. She explained to us that nothing like that had ever happened before. She handled it fine I told her. Again she put the jelly on me and looked around. My husband and I looked at the screen, but it was pure torture for me to see my empty uterus. It was so big and empty. There was no happy baby there to kick me anymore. I had to look away. The young woman left to room to show the film to someone. I felt like I had to go to the bathroom again. My husband went to find someone to ask. I stood up out of my bed and blood went everywhere. My husband went again to find someone to get me a new gown. We got cleaned up and I wiped the floor with my old gown before going to the restroom again. It was the same one that I had delivered my son in only moments before. I sat down and pushed, out came the placenta. I called for my husband and told him to go and ask them if they wanted it. By this time I was very calm and numb. I had to pull the placenta out and I held it there.
They came with another container. I put the placenta in it and proceeded to wipe up the blood it left behind. We were wheeled back down to the room again. A doctor from my office came in and talked to me briefly. She did an exam and pulled out some tissue. Unfortunately, she could not get it all and I was told that I would have to have a D&C. I was fine with that. More drugs and sleep sounded very appealing.
We had to wait for three hours before it was my turn to go to the operating room. By that time it was the next day. When I asked to use the restroom, I had to reason with the nurse to be allowed to use it on my own. She was afraid that I would pass some tissue. I had to explain to her that I had delivered a baby and a placenta in the bathroom on my own and could handle some tissue. That was the only time during the night I was a bit testy with someone. In fact, I even made sure that I told the nurse who gave me the IV that she did a good job and I never felt a thing. The procedure went fine. The only thing I remember is a man telling me to think of a nice dream before the surgery began. I thought how could I have any more nice dreams after what has happened and I was out before I could think of anything else.
We arrived home exhausted feeling like we were in a nightmare at 5:30 in the morning. After a few hours of sleep we began to make the calls to let friends and family aware of what had happened. Each time I spoke with someone who I knew cared for us, I felt an overwhelming wave of guilt for the pain that they were feeling.
Here I sit, three weeks later with Mother’s Day drawing closer. On Mothers Day it will be one month since my son, Nathaniel J. was born. It will be one month since his name was whispered in my ear and I knew in my heart that it meant “gift from God”. It will be one month since a mother robin has been trying to get in every window of our home. It will be one month since we have had to decide what to do with the remains of our child instead of plan which stroller to get. It will be one month since I began crying at everything and anything. It will be one month since I began to feel like a failure as a wife, mother, daughter, granddaughter, and woman. It will be one month since I became angry with God and most of the happy people around me. It will be one month since I have had to make an effort to be happy for those who are pregnant or have children. It will be one month since my hopes, dreams, and planned future for my first child were shattered. It will be one month since my heart was bombed for the first time in my life without repair. It will be one month since I began to dream of holding, rocking, and feeding my son in the middle of the night in my sleep. It will be one month since I became a mother. It will be one month and my body will be healed. It will be one month and I have nothing to show for my pain. It will be one month and I will have no proof but the ashes of my son to claim I am a mother. It will be one month and the cards and calls have stopped. It will be one month and they will say aren’t you over this yet? It will be one month and they will ask when we will try again. It will be one month and they will have forgotten. It will be one month and they won’t ask me how I am doing. It will be one month and I will never be the same. It will be one month and I dread that day. It will be one month since my son, Nathaniel J., was born. But it will feel like a lifetime since I have loved him and will continue to love him.
