Before I start with part I, there may be some new readers who may want to catch up. If so, here is the link to the previous blog so that you don’t have to go looking for it. Continuing on, now that the doctor told me officially that I was pregnant, it was time to tell my husband. I knew he would be happy so, I wanted this to be special for him but couldn’t think how I wanted to tell him. Basically, I just waited for him to come home to tell him.
Yes, he was very excited. Side note: if you don’t know Steve, it can be difficult sometimes to tell when he’s actually excited. He’s a bit, how should I say, subdued in his emotions. Anyway, he was quite happy. So, the next day, I made an appointment with my Gynecologist. Nothing like an ultrasound to kick this pregnancy diagnosis off!
My husband wasn’t able to come with me for this first ultrasound but I figured it would be fine. It was just the first ultrasound of many and what they were going to show us wasn’t going to look like a baby anyway. All I had to do was report back to him what was said and show him the images from the ultrasound. The only thing is, there really wasn’t anything to report or show. The technician couldn’t find a heartbeat and they really couldn’t tell how far along I was in my pregnancy.
With that news, my doctor told me to come back within 1 to 2 weeks for another ultrasound. They thought that maybe it was just too early for that. I said, “Okay” and went home. To be honest, I really didn’t think anything of it.
So, the time went by and I went back to my doctor for another ultrasound. Still no heartbeat. At this point, my doctor told me that I had what is commonly called in his profession, a missed abortion. It was an unsuccessful pregnancy that had yet to be cleared by my body. This isn’t something that I had ever really considered. Even though I was very reluctant about getting pregnant, I felt rather numb at the news. Actually, I felt fine and rather emotionless, until the nurse hugged me. Why did she do that? It was at that time that the tears started flowing freely from my eyes. The feeling was so quick and enveloping that it shocked me. I didn’t know that I could be that sad over something that seemingly, I didn’t really want. It was hard to believe that I felt so much grief over an alien kidney bean that made me disgustingly nauseous everyday.
After I collected myself, I headed off to work. Well, I wasn’t sick, just sad. I figured I could get through the rest of the day without any emotional outbursts. When I got back to my job, I went to my manager’s office. He was the only person at work who knew because he would be the one to schedule me for client visits out of town. I had to let him know that I would be free to travel without any restrictions.
I walked into his office and explained what I had just found out. My manager and I were really good friends and had known each other for years. As I stood there in silence, I saw him walking towards me with a very sympathetic look on his face and his arms beginning to raise. I stepped back and quickly told him, “If you don’t want me to cry all over your shoulder, I suggest you don’t hug me.” That stopped him dead in his tracks. I had enough crying for that day. Now, I just had to make it through the rest of the day and get home to tell my husband.
He finally made it home and I told him of the day’s events. He was disappointed but he understood that these things happen. Fortunately, we had not told anyone else. I mean we told no one. I had heard that it’s best to wait until the eleventh week before sharing the news and that was our plan. Now our plan was how to deal with this missed abortion. Because I don’t like unnecessary, inconvenient pain, I opted for a D&C so that we could prepare to try again. To this day, I remember being wheeled into the operating room and this little old lady who seemed to be a volunteer at the hospital called herself trying to cheer me up. Her exact words to me as I lie on the gurney were, “We’re going to clean your oven out so you can get to baking again.” My miscarriage was literally reduced to a baking metaphor. Really, lady?
“It hurts because it matters.” ~ John Green