January 2nd was one of the happiest days of my life. Other than being my wife’s birthday, it was also the day that we found out she was pregnant.
Getting to that point wasn’t easy. For almost three years we had no luck at all. Since things were not progressing, we started getting tested, taking pills, using shots and other embarrassingly invasive procedures. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that I’m glad I am not Roman Catholic.
From the moment the line appeared on the pregnancy test, we started talking about the future and the changes that would have to be made. We talked names, day care and other things in which we needed to prepare.
After visiting the doctor to confirm the line was real and we were not just imagining it, we scheduled our first ultrasound. We really didn’t care the date so we let them pick it. January 23rd is my birthday and the day that the doctor’s office just happened to pick. The stars were apparently aligning.
The reality of “we’re having a baby” really hit me during our first ultrasound on Jan. 23rd. Couldn’t really see much, but we could hear a little heartbeat. Since we obviously did not know the sex of the developing baby, I lovingly named it “The blob”. We had plenty of time to decide on a name later. That night Amy threw me a surprise birthday party and “The blob” gave me a birthday card along with everyone else.
At that point, we decided to tell a few friends. When people asked me if I was excited I would reply, “I’m cautiously optimistic.” Which really was the truth because I realized that things don’t always go as we plan. I consider myself a “realist” regarding most things, but I hoped for the best. We decided after the 8 week ultrasound we had scheduled for Feb. 6th, we would start telling more people about our happy secret.
Before our appointment, Amy and I were discussing (arguing) the merits of beginning a college fund. Little did we know that in the next 15 minutes it really wouldn’t matter. February 6th was about to be the most devastating day of my (our) life.
When the lights went off and the ultrasound machine came to life, we were nervously excited. In no time, the ultrasound Technician found our baby and started taking pictures. It was soooo cute. It had morphed from “The blob” to more of a sea monkey, or something. The tech started moving the wand around a lot causing the baby to move in and out of focus. She finally said:
“I don’t hear a heart beat. I’m so sorry guys.”
(Wow this is tough. Amy later told me that she knew before the tech said anything. She didn’t see a heartbeat. I can’t imaging know that before hand, praying that I was wrong.)
I honestly don’t remember much that was said after that in the room. I just remember being a bit weak in the legs, confused and not sure how to comfort Amy. I finally sat down next to Amy and held her hand. We both began to cry. When the tech finished taking the last of the pictures, she lead us to the doctor’s office. We sat there reeling from what just happened. I remember hoping the doctor would come in and tell us it was all a mistake. The equipment was faulty and everything was fine. He did not.
I felt sad, but the feeling I remember feeling the most was anger. I was surprised how angry I was and that my anger wasn’t directed at God or anyone else. It was directed at the situation. I was angry at the fact that we were dealing with a miscarriage after so much waiting, trying, praying, and crying. Amy and I later agreed that everything about it “just plain sucked”.
The doctor walked in the room to talk to us. He held his tablet PC with the pictures and information gathered from the ultrasound. He comforted us as best he could, explaining that the death was nothing we could have prevented or that we could have caused. He said the measurements were just at the 8 week mark meaning that within the last two or three days it passed away. He explained that there are numerous reasons something like this could have occurred, but stressed again that there was nothing we did or did not do that would make a difference.
We then talked about what to do next. Amy and I decided that the best course of action would be to have a D and C as soon as possible. Luckily we were able to get it done immediately the next morning. It was a horrible experience for Amy knowing the baby was forever gone. We used the weekend + a few days to steady ourselves for what lie ahead in the weeks/months/years to come.
I honestly don’t know how we survived it. I remember feeling so helpless, sad, angry, devastated andbroken for weeks after that. It was a one day at a time thing for us. Before this happened, I remember telling a friend that I don’t know what I would do if something bad happened during this pregnancy. Apparently I am surviving. I do remember thinking how lucky we were to have it happen so early instead of months into pregnancy. I also realize that we were lucky for it to have happened right before the ultrasound and not after.
I am having a difficult time finishing this post in a coherent manner so I will end it with a few comments.
1) Do not ask a couple when they are going to start having children. I have no doubt that you are asking in kindness or to start a conversation, but you never know how emotionally loaded that simple question can be. Every time someone asks me that question I am tempted to say, “Well, we have been trying for 3 years now. When we were finally able to conceive, we had a miscarriage that devastated us both. Thanks for asking. I had almost gone a day without thinking about it.” I may have used that line once or twice now. I’m proud to say I watered it down a bit when I did.
2) Do not buy baby items or clothes before the 8 week mark. I am saying this because most miscarriages happen before the 8 week period. Seeing toys, clothes and other baby items lying around will only prolong the healing process.
3) This may seem to go against the previous comment, but flowers, cards, letters and hugs are truly welcomed. For me, these things remindme how love we are by those around us. Chris, my Canadian friend, even hunted down our address and had flowers delivered. I was humbled. Since we got them after the miscarriage, they are less painful to us and will be something we will always cherish. I think the thing that scared us the most was the nagging feeling that we and others would forget about the baby who died. Amy wants nothing more to know the sex of the child so we can at least name it. We got a letter in the mail last week from a family member letting us know we were still being thought about. This kind of thing means so much to us.
4) Do not be afraid to talk. A letter or email is probably best at first. Give the couple a shoulder to cry on if they need it. Perhaps they don’t, but offer to listen.
I am sure there are so many more things I could write. It has been a tough day for Amy and I, but we will survive. Miscarriages almost seem taboo because no one talks about them. When 1 in 5 pregnancies end in a miscarriage, you would think people would talk about them more. I wanted to share my story as a way for me to feel at peace about what happened. But I also want to let those of you who have gone through this know that you are not alone. If you need a shoulder or an ear feel free to email me at ninefingers @ gmail dot com.
Travis Clay