Lost it

This is difficult to write.
The short version is we had a miscarriage. The reality is a little more complicated and brought some tough lessons.
But we’re OK.
I knew when I began this blog that this could happen. I decided then that if it did, I’d use this to offer a guy’s view of going through a miscarriage. So here goes.
We went in on Thursday (today’s Monday) for my wife’s 10-week ultrasound. There was no fetus there. I was convinced the radiologist was doing it wrong. My wife’s eyes bulged – she was shocked. There had been no indication of any problems. No cramping, no bleeding – the signs my wife had known to look out for.
“There’s no baby,” the radiologist said several times, simultaneously freaking us out and using what we thought was inappropriate terminology. She kept asking whether there had been cramping or bleeding.
There was still a gestational sac in the uterus, but no fetus.
I just didn’t believe it. My wife seemed to process it more quickly than I did.
It was like someone took a metaphorical crowbar to us.
They sent us to the OB-GYN floor. We had to sit in the waiting area. My wife was crying. They told us the doctors were busy and we might not be able to see someone until “after lunch,” which meant after 1:00. It was about 11:00. My wife did not want to wait. She was covering her face. I asked if we could have a private room, but there weren’t any. The receptionist, clearly sympathetic, let us use the empty conference room. We went in there and processed the shock.
We knew this was possible. Basically everyone we know who has kids had a miscarriage. But since there had been no sign – she still had the signs of pregnancy, which I’ll explain – it was just shock. She was crying. It was awful.
A doctor saw us within about 30 minutes. She seemed like a nice, good doctor. And she explained.
Turns out even in this way, miscarriage is not at all uncommon. The tiny little beginnings of a fetus – scroll down on this blog to see the picture from a sonogram at 6 weeks – disintegrate and absorb into the body, but other things remain. The gestational sac and placenta are still there, which means the pregnancy hormones are still going. You still feel pregnant. Your body is still changing as though you are.
In fact, the night before, my wife had been trying on a dress for a wedding we had that same weekend. Oh- here’s the added drama: right after what was supposed to be a smooth ultrasound, I was supposed to hop a flight to be in the wedding of a guy who is like a brother to me.
Anyway, the dress hadn’t fit. Her hips were widening, her stomach poking out a bit. Her body still acted pregnant.
The doctor said sometimes the gestational sac, with the placenta – just think of it as all the other “stuff” – fails to fall out on its own. She said there’s a term called “misabortion” – she emphasized “abortion the medical term, not the political term.” Basically, the fetus disintegrates but everything else that’s there fails to physically abort itself out of her body.
The doctor explained there were 3 options: wait for it to come out, use tablets to help encourage it to fall out, or have a common procedure called a “D & C” (dilatation and curettage) to have everything removed. She recommended not waiting too long if we chose option one, since it had apparently already been a few weeks since the fetus stopped being there.
My wife’s uterus was about the size it would be at 7 weeks., which suggests the fetus stopped being there around the 7th week. Which means shortly after the posting with the sonogram image below.
So, things I’ve written since then were actually, probably, by a non-pregnant husband.
My wife decided to book a D&C for the following Tuesday – five days after the appointment.
There are always minor risks to any surgical procedures, but on the flip side there’s a risk of hemorrhaging if you don’t take out the stuff.
The doctor said the “silver lining” in such a tough situation is that “you can get pregnant.” Since we hadn’t been “trying” yet, apparently the whole experience at least means that we’re fertile.
And she emphasized that the miscarriage had nothing to do with us. It’s just random – very often a fetus isn’t viable. It wouldn’t turn into a viable baby. It’s “nature’s way” of working things out.
We went home, and ended up in the position that I’d always imagined any couple gets into following such news: we sat on the floor, with a box of tissues next to my wife and a glass of water for her.
Even more drama: this was all happening right before she was planning to tell her family (see previous posting). The wedding was taking place where her family lives, so she was going to make the big announcement, even though we would have just been at the 11-week mark. She figured it was close enough to the end of trimester to be relatively safe.
Back to the house… She was processing her options, and immediately knew that she wanted to have the D & C right away. She couldn’t stand the thought of all the “stuff” being in her body without a fetus – it felt wrong, useless, and scary. She didn’t want to wait to go through a painful process of cramping and bleeding. People we’re very close to had gone through really tough miscarriages, and she saw no reason to wait. We spoke with one of those women, who agreed with my wife on that. She said physically it probably would not make a difference to wait until Tuesday, but psychologically it made sense right away.
I just wanted to make sure my wife was thinking as clearly as possible. While this was something we both went through, there is so much that she was/is going through that I can barely fathom. Although D&C is common, it’s still serious, and I wanted to make sure it was the right call. We spoke with enough people, including one of my best friends who’s a doctor, and I felt good about my wife’s decision.
After much calling to the doctor’s office for hours, we managed to get the nice doctor to perform the procedure on her lunch hour the next day.
My wife’s mom flew in. So, on the day that my wife was planning to tell her mother the news, her mother was instead meeting up with me in the waiting room of a hospital.
Check this out: that morning, before the procedure, my wife had bleeding for the first time. What are the chances? Either it was influenced by psychological factors or it involved progesterone, a hormone she had been taking to keep the uterus strong (I’m not sure if that’s the best way to put it). The doctor had told her that taking progesterone probably did not prevent the stuff from falling out. But then again, who knows? Maybe it had played a role, and maybe that one night without it allowed the bleeding to begin.
I sat with my wife as soon as they’d let me into the recovery room. The whole procedure was very quick, and she was out on IV sedation. She was so strong. I was so proud of her. I am so proud of her. It’s so incredibly hard what she’s gone through. I just keep saying to her over and over and over that this particular fetus was not meant to be a baby. That it’s luck of the draw.
My buddy the doctor told me it’s like a "false start" in a race, and that it’s very very common. He said in the end it’s just one bump on the road of life, that we’ll look back at. He said in the scope of things that happen to people, even things that have happened to us, this is not one of the more awful. He was great.
I keep hearing statistics that are staggering. I knew miscarriages were frequent – I had no idea they’re this common. Before I start spouting them here I’m going to look into them.
The fiancée, now wife, of the guy who’s wedding was this weekend said this to me: “It’s as miracle when it DOES happen.” That seems to sum it up.
(I didn't want to tell the couple, but had to because my wife would have to miss the wedding.)
We took my wife home, and her mom stayed with her while I made a very quick 24-hour trip to the city where the wedding took place. I didn’t have to go, but we both really wanted me to go, and we’re both really glad I went. It was great. A happy beginning for people we love. I flew up Friday evening and returned Saturday evening.
I told my wife that it’s a cool phenomenon of marriage: by my being at the wedding, I felt that were both there. By her being home with her mom, resting, I felt that we were both here. It’s like a super-power that comes from marriage – you can be in two places at once.
Her mom flew back home (she would have come even if I didn’t have the wedding), and we’re moving forward.
It’s tough. My wife is struggling, of course. I am too. I keep telling her that this is, in its own way, a rite of passage for many women, that she’s an incredible woman and that we’ll have a child. I remind her that we’re not one of those couples that has tried forever to have a baby. We hadn’t even started trying (click on my first, “Welcome” message on this blog to see where we were coming from). So now we can. (Well, in a few weeks.)
It’s a loss for me too. I have had flickers of fears – what if we can’t get pregnant again, what if this happens again, etc. But we don't have any reason to worry. And I think we need to leave it to the fates.
I told my wife this morning that it feels like pulling the slots in Vegas. The first two bars might come up just as you want them to. But the third is still up in the air. You might hit the jackpot, or you might end up with nothing.
I wouldn’t say we ended up with nothing. We’ve definitely grown from this and will continue to. We’ll have to see how things go from here.
People are being very supportive. Irony: you barely tell anyone about the pregnancy, knowing it could end; then when you lose it, you find yourself telling all sorts of people. Somehow that’s just right.
We still haven't told that many. We may. We'll see.
As I keep processing what happened, I’ll write more. Beyond that, I have no idea what’s ahead. Don't know how soon I'll choose to post again. But we do plan to have a child. Eventually, children.
Stay tuned.