I cannot believe I’m writing about this.
But sometimes letting it out is a way to cope.
Well, I had a miscarriage.
It’s actually medically termed as missed abortion. You had all signs of pregnancy but the fetus did not mature.
I’ve been debating within myself whether or not I’d write about this publicly or not. The incident just make me want to forget like it was just another bad dream. Or maybe, if I could only extract that particular memory off my brain and store it somewhere far away.
However, when I am alone, my mind has the tendency to drift off to that incident. And I just get oddly sad.
I GOT PREGNANT
We didn’t actually plan on getting pregnant. Days were spent just like how it has been since the last few years.
But then, I had missed periods. I decided to take the home PT one day. And bam! The double pink lines automatically showed up.
At first, I was scared. It was because I was not ready.
Nonetheless, as I try to process it, my fear eventually developed into acceptance, then to a bit of an excitement, then to elation. (Well, it was really half fright and half elation).
IT WAS GOOD NEWS AFTER ALL
My husband was happy of course.
As for my daughter, well, she doesn’t completely understand the idea of having a new sibling, so she just innocently shrugged it off.
My sisters and friends were glad about it too.
So, their reactions just bounced back to me and my heart just decided to be happy too.
I became excited that I began to browse on baby stuffs again. I did look forward to continue breastfeeding again because I was confident that my milk will not run dry by the time I would have given birth later in the year…
FIRST PRE-NATAL CHECK UP
We went to my OB for my first pre-natal check-up. That’s when things started to go downhill.
The Doppler was not able to detect a heartbeat. My instincts sent alarm bells because it was unusual if I were to compare it on my first pregnancy. They say you can detect a heartbeat as early as 6-7 weeks. I was already like on my 11th week.
My OB said that I could try it via ultrasound. I calmed down a bit. She said that maybe the fetus is still too small to be detected.
Or my fatty abdomen may be the reason why it can’t detect a heartbeat, just to inject humor on the situation.
Ultrasound day came and I was excited. I woke up early, prayed and hoped that I’d be able to see the baby and hear a heartbeat.
The ultrasound procedure came after the lab test procedures. I lay on the bed and let the sonogram tech do her job. She was just going around and around. Then, she told me I have to come back in the afternoon to let their head tech check it.
By the time I went home, my head was already swimming with probabilities and my heart was starting to fill with fear. I googled “no fetus seen in ultrasound” and the search results lead to “blighted ovum” or “misaligned ovaries” or worse “ectopic pregnancy”.
There were also forums like how some women waited for a few more weeks, hoping that the heartbeat will be heard. However, a bigger percentage said it eventually ended up in miscarriage.
I was already teary-eyed after reading.
THE “ENCORE” ULTRASOUND
I still obliged for the afternoon ultrasound. This time, the sonogram took longer. The head technician measured every part of my uterus.
After the whole procedure, I just asked in a straightforward manner if there was a baby or not. At the back of my mind, there was clearly no tiny human-shaped figure behind the monitor.
She just gave me a somewhat sympathetic smile and simply said that there were irregularities detected and my OB will be the one to interpret the results.
But even if my OB would interpret it or not, I know that I’m not having any baby at all.
I was set to be operated on three days after my follow up check-up. During check-up, my OB said that there were things that might have happened inside my womb along the way, that’s why the pregnancy did not push through. It was like telling me that it was not my fault it ended up that way.
The operation itself was not painful at all. But the sense of loss proved otherwise.
My friends consoled me that at least this happened very early in my pregnancy, because it would be more painful if it happened in the latter stage. They just told me I could try again.
I’m really not sure what I want. I’m a bit traumatized at this point.
I keep thinking, what if this pregnancy was a go. Would Olive be a doting sister? Would it be a boy or another girl? Would he or she look like me or his/her dad? Would the house become crazier or more fun with two kids?
What if there would no longer be a baby number 2? Would people think of me as selfish? Would my daughter ask me why she does not have a brother of a sister? Would my daughter grow up okay as an only child? Would my husband and I be okay with just one child?
I keep telling myself that I’m just an ordinary person and things like this cannot happen to me. Well, it did happen. Now, I could more than sympathize with other women who might have gone through the same process, whatever stage of the pregnancy it was.
I am moving on, though thinking about it in retrospect is still sad.
For now, I need to put my attention to my ever growing daughter and my ever loving husband. Their heartbeats are more than the world to me right now…