May as well continue with my second & hopefully last miscarriage.
My first miscarriage was October 5 of last year, the second one was barely two months later, November 26... almost one whole year ago.
I had just started my first year of college before my miscarriages and I was doing good until I had them. After that first miscarriage it was hard for me to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and shower, Jeff had to force me to eat. It was bad. We started to have sex again probably a week or so after that miscarriage, which is totally not recommended at all but we did it anyway. Stupid. But I was just so sad, I needed to feel close to him, and I wasn't able to talk about it yet, so sleeping with Jeff helped the pain.
Until I realized about a month later that I still hadn't gotten my period, so me being me, I took another damn test. Positive. Took another. Positive. And another. Positive. I made an appointment with an OB right away, the soonest we could get an appointment was something like a week later.
I was scared out of my mind but excited. I knew the risks at being pregnant so soon after a miscarriage but I pushed them all aside. Jeff and I told our parents, our friends, we bought all pregnancy books for me and pregnancy journals, everything we could think of.
We were so excited the morning we woke up to go in for an ultrasound. I remember getting dressed and heading over to the doctors, walking in holding hands, everything. I remember being called in and how excited I was to put my legs up in those things.
I remember looking at the screen thinking I'd see some little thing squiggling around or something but instead seeing a still screen, nothing moving. The tech turned the screen and moved the ultrasound thingy around inside me but still nothing. She took it out and asked me to get dressed. I did and she asked me and Jeff to head over to our doctors office, that our doctor would meet us in there.
I remember squeezing his hand so hard I left marks. Something was obviously wrong. And when our doctor walked in her room the look on her face said it all.
Except it wasn't the exact same news I had heard from the doctor in the emergency room the month before, it was worse actually. I had a dead fetus inside me. My hcg levels weren't rising as much as they should, their was no fetal heartbeat detected, nothing. I was walking around with a dead baby inside me.
This was a day or two before Thanksgiving last year. I spent all of Thanksgiving walking around with a dead baby in me. My body didn't start to expel the pregnancy, or miscarry, on its own. The Friday after Thanksgiving I went back to my doctor I had these pills put into my vagina, to expand my cervix and to expel the baby... I forget what they were called, but they also use those pills with people who have the non-surgical abortions, and I have NO IDEA why someone would EVER do that if they had a choice, how someone could be so heartless to do that... but anyway.
Jeff and I went home and I put in a pad and went to sleep. I was so fucking depressed I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up... I had no idea how much worse it was about to get.
Around 11 maybe that night I woke up to this gush of blood coming out from in between my legs and I ran into the bathroom and ripped my pants down and it was just the most horrific sight ever. Blood everywhere, coming out of me, on my pants, I was passing clots the size of tennis balls, I could FEEL them coming out of me. I screamed and I couldn't stop screaming and looking around at everything and I remember thinking to myself that that was my BABY all over the bathroom, that I was flushing my BABY down the toilet.
Jeff was in the bathroom and he was on his knees holding me while I sat on the toilet, while I screamed and cried and screamed some more. Jeff was incredible I do not know of a single man who could have done what he did. He saved my life that night he honestly did, because if I had been alone I swear with god as my witness I would have killed myself.
That was the most horrific most traumatizing experience I have ever had. It was just so fucked up. To be given so much hope after having such a tragedy happen, and then this miracle turned into an even more horrifying thing then the last!
I walked around for days knowing that my baby was dead inside me. I let me doctor put pills into me to my body would start to miscarry so I wouldn't get sick from all the dead flesh inside me. I passed ten's of clots the size of TENNIS balls. I bled like I had had a knife stabbed up my vagina. I flushed my baby down the toilet. That is how I see it, and I don't think I will ever look at it a different way.
On November 26 2010 I lost another baby, in a horrible way. And I died, again, a little bit.
It doesn't matter to me that I never got past my first trimester with either of my pregnancies. It doesn't matter to me that I never got to feel my babies kick, or watch them suck their thumb during an ultrasound. They were my babies. I loved them more then life itself, I fell in love with them as soon as I saw those two damn pink lines on those tests. They were my children and I love them and I think about them all the time and I know that I will get to be with them one day, when I die.
