This is Chapter 13 in the Infertility Memoir. Read previous chapters here.
Trigger warning: Graphic content, infant loss.
We went to the ER very early on the morning of January 13 for the third time in a month. I had already passed a large clot that was roughly the size of my palm, and I feared we were losing our baby. The bleeding was so heavy, I had terrible cramps, and I wondered if we would make it to the hospital in time. When we arrived at the hospital, my husband dropped me off at the ER entrance, but when I stood up to get out of the car, I felt a huge gush of blood running down my leg, escaping the pad that was already soaked with blood. I filled two large hospital-grade pads in less than three hours. I now not only felt fearful that we were losing the baby but I was mortified to be walking into the ER in blood-soaked pants.
The ER was expecting me and I was waved to the back immediately. Once the doctor came back with the ultrasound machine and performed an ultrasound a huge wave of relief swept over us when we heard the heartbeat and saw our baby moving. They performed a few more tests, consulted with my OB, and sent me home once the bleeding stopped. The only explanation we were given is that bleeding like this sometimes happens, especially with the presence of a subchorionic bleed.
I felt relieved the bleeding had stopped, but I still couldn’t shake the fear that it would all be taken away from us. By this point every time I stood up, used the bathroom, or had to lift something I was terrified that I would feel another gush of blood or cramps. I was supposed to be feeling joyful, excited and making all the plans to welcome our baby, but instead, I was living in constant fear. It was exhausting. I was trying to rest, let my body heal and try to juggle all of my commitments.
Two days later I had a follow-up appointment with my OB. Again, our baby was healthy which helped ease my fears. She continued to suggest that pelvic rest was all that I needed and that bedrest wasn’t proven to heal subchorionic bleeds.
The very next day I started bleeding again, only this time it wasn’t enough to fill a pad so the OB’s office didn’t think it warranted a trip to the ER unless it increased. The bleeding seemed to finally be going away and our little family of three was figuring out how to let Mommy “rest” because we knew that bedrest healed our bleed with our last pregnancy. We were determined to do whatever was needed to keep our baby safe and healthy.
We were now in the second trimester and the odds of miscarriage were significantly lower now. The bleeding appeared to have stopped. I was able to rest, and I even felt confident enough to register for the USO Baby Shower they were having at Fort Indiantown Gap, our closest base, in a few weeks. I bought new maternity clothes, including a cute blue dress shirt for the shower. A few weeks prior I had been watching a TV show when one of the main characters found out the gender of her baby. I just had to know what we were having, and I knew exactly where the answer was. I went to my medical records and looked at the test results we had and learned that I was pregnant with a boy. Hence why I bought a blue top for the shower.
Now if you remember from an earlier chapter, the winter season is Yearly Training Brief (YTB) season for my husband at work. It usually means long hours, long calls in the evenings and time away from home. I also like to refer to the YTB as his dirty mistress because it takes up so much of his time. I never look forward to this time of year, but this time I was approaching it with even more disdain because I was still experiencing morning sickness while trying to rest as much as possible. I felt like the world’s laziest mom for letting my daughter watch so much TV, but at the same time was doing everything possible to keep our baby boy safe and healthy in my belly. Thankfully we had family nearby that could come help when my husband was gone.
Just as I was starting to get into that joyful and hopeful planning ahead space it all came crashing down. Around 11:45 pm on January 24th, I started bleeding heavily. Both my husband and daughter were fast asleep and I didn’t want to wake them. I just sobbed in bed as silently as I could debating if this was going to be just like the previous episodes or worse. Not wanting to be the girl who cried wolf again, I made a note of the time and started counting how many pads I was going through. At some point, some mild cramps started, and I just had this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When everyone woke up, we headed to the ER (an hour away) for the fourth time in six weeks. By the time we got there, I had bled through four large pads and passed several large clots. We thought we were losing our baby boy. I couldn’t believe when they did the ultrasound that we could see our baby moving around with a strong heartbeat. Happy tears were streaming from my eyes. They could still see some blood on the ultrasound so they asked for a consult from the OB upstairs. While we waited things took a drastic turn.
In the blink of an eye, I started experiencing contractions. A nurse came in to draw more labs. The ER staff made calls upstairs to get the OB downstairs and get a room ready for us upstairs. After a few minutes of contractions that were rapidly getting stronger and closer together, I felt a large gush and something between my legs. Seconds later an OB from upstairs walked into the room. The nurse who had stayed by my side holding my hand brought her up to speed with everything that had just happened. The OB examined what was between my legs and then did an exam. She then told me what I already knew, that I was experiencing a miscarriage and that she could see fetal material in my fully dilated cervix. They rushed to take me upstairs to labor and delivery.
During all of this, my husband was trying his best to support me and care for our sweet daughter who had no clue what was going on. I’m not even sure we even understood what was going on because it was happening so fast. I remember being wheeled out of the ER, my hospital bed getting stuck turning a corner, and the contractions starting again. Except this time they were constant. The doctors, or nurses, I honestly can’t remember who was with me, were trying to get me to labor and delivery as fast as they could. As we exited the elevator and were entering the maternity ward I felt the biggest gush I had ever felt. Along with the blood, I could feel something of more substance exiting my body. I knew that in the cold, stark hallway of the hospital I had just given birth to our son. This was a living nightmare.
The contractions stopped immediately, and the medical team that was swarming around me already knew what had occurred. They quickly transferred me to the hospital bed, clamped the umbilical cord, and got to work. Most of this nightmare I remember vividly, but I’m not so clear on what immediately followed. At some point, my husband called my dad to come help with my daughter, who was currently in another room with a nurse. Then at another point, the doctor talked to us about what was happening, explaining that I had lost a lot of blood and that I still needed to deliver the placenta. If the placenta wouldn’t deliver on its own they explained that I would need a D&C. They administered medications to help me deliver it and to help with the postpartum hemorrhage that I was experiencing.
While we waited for that to happen (which we were told could take up to two hours) I watched one of the doctors weighing all of the blood-soaked pads and cloths. I didn’t know what she was doing, and I wasn’t entirely sure I fully understood what was even happening to me. All I knew was that I wanted this nightmare to end.
During the wait, my dad arrived and my husband was able to be back at my side. After what I assume was two hours the doctors reevaluated things and determined that doing a D&C was too risky with the amount of blood that I had lost. They wanted to attempt to remove the placenta with a bedside procedure. When I say that this was the most painful thing I have ever experienced, I really do mean it. They used their hands and a suctioning device to remove all of the placenta and other remaining tissue from my uterus. I almost blacked out from the pain, maybe the blood loss, or both. The nightmare just wouldn’t end.