About a minute into the ultrasound, we knew that there was trouble. The technician asked two leading questions - had I had any bleeding/spotting? and was I sure about the date of my last period? The answers were no and yes, respectively, but that didn't make things any better. She explained that she needed to get one of the doctors because the baby was only measuring 8 weeks and she couldn't find the heartbeat. It was at that moment that our hearts began to break. I asked her how worried we should be and she rubbed my leg and said that she would return as soon as she could find a doctor. To me, that answered my question as "very much so."
While we waited for her to return, we tried not to freak out, pretty unsuccessfully. The few minutes that passed lasted forever ... finally, the tech returned with an OB/GYN I hadn't met before, who after looking at the ultrasound, confirmed our fears and said those life-changing terrible words. We'd lost the baby.
The next half hour was miserable. We went to the doctor's office, where we discussed the next steps while we tried to hold ourselves together. I would go to the hospital the next day for a d and c procedure, which is basically a cleaning out the uterus. We went through the motions of scheduling the next day's appointment and answering pre-op questions with a nurse. To me, the doctor seemed like a robot. She explained how common miscarriages are, how I probably would have passed the baby this week naturally had we not had our appointment, and how she had had three herself. I say a robot because all of this was explained without emotion or empathy. I realize she can't get emotional as part of her job, but her cold nature made the experience even worse. Luckily, we learned at the end of the discussion that our normal OB/GYN, whom we really like, would be doing the procedure. He came into the room, took my hand and told my husband and I that he would take care of us and that we'd be parents someday. It was those words said with warmth that we needed to hear.
The rest of the day seemed to last forever. We began the arduous task of telling our families and friends that we lost the baby and the emotions were absolutely overwhelming. Thank God we were there together. I can't imagine if Reid had been traveling ... the thought makes me feel ill.
My mom came the next day, we went to the hospital, and I thankfully have no memories of the procedure that I had spent the previous 24 hours dreading. After returning home and having a long nap, I finally felt like the healing was beginning. The worst was done.
I feel stupid for saying it, but I honestly didn't realize how common miscarriages are (odds are as high as 1 in 4), and I feel silly for thinking we were in the clear at 12 weeks. Next time we get pregnant, I won't take anything for granted. Even more so than before, I realize how getting pregnant, and more importantly, staying pregnant is an absolute miracle. I do worry that I'll be a worry-wart next time around, but unlike this time, I will be better prepared for whatever is to come.
Over the last several days, we've realized how lucky we are to have each other and to have such an amazing support system. Unlike the feelings we experienced last Thursday, we both feel at peace now. While it wasn't meant to be this time, one day hopefully we will be parents and we'll love the little toes that we get to wiggle and the cheeks that we get to kiss.
So when are we going to start trying again? I don't know ... we can't try until I've had at least one normal cycle, which could take anywhere from 1.5 - 2.5 months. After that, we'll have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, the bachelorette party, weddings and trip to Napa that are on the calendar over the next six weeks will be enjoyed immensely.
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