My Story - The First One

From the time I was a young girl I knew I wanted to be a Mom. I had dolls, more than I could count on two hands, including a couple sets of twins, and I loved each of them. I used to dream about who I would marry and long for the day that I could have children of my own. I dreamed that life would be blissfully perfect, with only minor setbacks.

For most people, life has a way of turning out differently than what we expect. Shortly after high school I started college. I remember being pretty convinced, at the mature and oh so wise age of nineteen, that I would get married around the age of twenty, finish my Bachelor’s degree a couple years after being married and then welcome our first bundle of joy into the world. Nineteen came and was on its way out. It was in that year that I had a change in career goals that propelled me from junior college to a full-fledged university. Before I knew it twenty had passed, as had twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four (and you get the idea), without a serious marriage prospect. It was during this period of time that I realized my wonderful plan was not reality. I started to live my life to the fullest, hoping and praying that one day my deep desire to be a wife and mother would be fulfilled. College graduations and changes in location, for various vocational opportunities, occupied my mid to late twenties. Finally, at the age of thirty, I met the man who would become my husband. We began to date a year later, and eighteen months after we started dating we were married. I learned that married life is exciting, full of hard work, challenging, joyous and life changing all rolled into one package and I loved it.

A few months after becoming married we decided it was time to start a family. I was thirty three at the time. Much to my surprise and absolute joy, I found out I was pregnant very soon thereafter. I still remember the first time I told my husband. He asked me if I was serious, to which I replied in the affirmative, and he hugged me. I am very blessed to have married a man who wants to be a father as much as I want to be a mother. Shortly after I learned I was pregnant, I found out that my younger sister, who is one of my dearest friends, was also pregnant. We were due a week apart and I was ecstatic! It was her fourth and my first and I knew our children would grow up together and be the best of friends.

Three weeks after I found out I was pregnant I began to have light pink spotting. It was a Sunday, so I looked up a few medical websites and found out that spotting can be normal during early pregnancy but should be reported to your doctor. I dutifully called my doctor the next morning. I spoke to her nurse who essentially recited to me what I read the night before and reassured me everything would be alright. The nurse instructed me to contact them if the spotting got worse or was accompanied by cramps. At this point in my pregnancy I was six and a half weeks along. The doctor I was seeing at that time had a policy of not seeing new obstetric patients until later on in the first trimester. Two days after my initial phone call the spotting increased and was accompanied by some mild cramps. I called the doctor’s office again. I spoke with the same nurse who rehearsed what she had told me two days prior. Again I was told to notify them if the spotting or cramping increased. Two days after my second phone call, four days after the first phone call, the spotting turned to bright red with strong cramps. Again I called the doctor’s office. This time I specifically asked to be seen. I was told that no one was available to see me that day but that I could come in for a HCG blood draw. I was told I would need to return in 48 hours for another blood draw. The nurse tried to reassure me that she had experienced bleeding with her first pregnancy and everything turned out fine. She told me that I most likely would be too. As you can imagine, by this time I was starting to feel rather anxious and concerned about the whole situation. I left work, cried most of the way to the doctor’s office and had my blood drawn. I then went home, took it easy and prayed that all would be okay. My husband was aware of each of the developments and was very supportive and concerned. After a blessing that night, I went to sleep feeling concerned but trying to be hopeful that all would be alright.

I awoke early the next morning with very intense cramps. I took Tylenol, applied some gentle heat and tried to walk the pain off. Finally after about an hour the pain subsided enough that I was able to go to sleep. I awoke two hours later to heavy bleeding. For the first time I knew for sure that this was the beginning of the end. I called out to my husband. We hugged and cried together. At that time I thought I had experienced the miscarriage. I had no idea that heavy bleeding didn’t mean I had endured the full brunt of the miscarriage. I learned the difference about five hours later. For the first time in my life I experienced hard contractions. I never knew I could be in so much pain without dying or passing out. I was pretty sure I was going to do the latter before the miscarriage was complete. Thankfully for me, it wasn’t too much longer before it was finished and the pain lessened.

I had read and been told that you should go to the emergency room and save all tissue for testing after a miscarriage. I did both. The emergency room staff was helpful and we had a very compassionate and thoughtful physician who performed a thorough evaluation. She did more for me than my own doctor had done to that point. Through that evaluation, I learned that my miscarriage was complete. After the evaluation, the emergency room physician made contact with the on-call physician from my doctor’s office. I was instructed to rest and follow up with my doctor in two days, on what would have been my first prenatal appointment. Because the emergency room physician didn’t know what to do with the tissue I had saved, she instructed me to take it to my doctor on Monday. My husband and I left the emergency room heavier than I think either us had ever felt in our lives. We tried to comfort each other with our gaping broken hearts.

That night happened to be the night prior to our first wedding anniversary. It was a very different anniversary than we had planned. The emotions of that time were so raw. I think it is a time I won’t soon forget. The shock, confusion, disbelief and grief about what had just happened to us was overwhelming. 

At the appointment on Monday, my doctor’s office once again did not fail to deliver a lackluster experience. Because I was supposed to be an obstetric patient, I was scheduled on a regular obstetric day. This meant that nearly every other patient in the waiting room was pregnant and obviously so. I arrived, discretely carrying the tissue, as I had been instructed to do. I checked in. Somehow the message that I had miscarried over the weekend had reached the doctor but apparently wasn’t communicated to the front office staff. After having to wait for nearly an hour, I went up and asked how soon until we could go to a room. I also let them know that I wasn’t feeling well. I had started to cramp again and quite frankly I felt like I was going to lose my mind if I had to sit in that waiting room, with pregnant women, for one more minute. Thankfully, they soon took me to a room. The nurse who took me back asked me the obligatory, “How are you doing today” question. Seriously, patients that have just had a miscarriage need a BIG flag on their chart. I really wanted to say, “Have you read the chart notes on me? How do you think I'm doing today? I have just waited for an hour in a waiting room full of pregnant women who walked out glowing and smiling, carrying a picture of their ultrasound.” At the same time I wanted to know if this was the same nurse who had been so less than helpful in answering my phone calls the previous week. I wanted to tell her that I had received better care from the emergency room, because in the medical community that is pretty much the ultimate insult. 

After being directed to a room, the nurse did a cursory check in and had us wait for the doctor. The doctor came in a few minutes later and was kind. She said she was so sorry and gave us some instructions on what to expect going forward, the rest I needed to get, and gave me a hug. I presented her with the pregnancy tissue to which she indicated she didn’t have a use for it. I had been refrigerating it as I knew that was the best way to preserve it. She explained that, unfortunately, since it had been three days, the tissue was too old to be of any value. I had to throw the tissue away and cried again.

My doctor asked us to check out up front before we left. We did so. The front office staff wanted to schedule a follow-up visit with us in three months. Apparently it wasn’t felt that I needed any follow up sooner. I still marvel at that, given my more recent experiences. At any rate, I politely told them that I wasn’t quite ready to schedule and let them know I would give them a call when I was. The whole time I was thinking I had to find a doctor with better staff and fast.