August 17, 2007

The D&C is Done

This morning I was almost 11 weeks pregnant. Now I’m not.

I didn’t want to go to sleep last night, because I knew it meant that morning would come and then I’d have to go to the surgery center. And let them take my baby.

I hadn’t cried much up until today, but I knew today would be different.

I managed to blink back the tears at the registration desk. Then the intake nurse came to get me, and the tears began to fall. The whole time she was taking my vital signs and going over my medical history, she also kept talking about her own attempts to have children. I don’t know how many she lost, but I know she lost one at 7 months. An autopsy couldn’t find any reason why her baby was stillborn.

I continued to cry. She continued to talk, telling me that she and her husband wound up adopting two children. “My son was a great kid, but there’s something off with him. He doesn’t do well as an adult,” she confided. He’s a couple years younger than me. Apparently he got into a knife fight last week.

That was when she suggested we look into adopting. Thanks, we’ve been there. Then she asked how many pregnancies I’ve lost. The tears were still falling. Four pregnancies, five babies. She asked if my doctor had suggested we do any testing to find out what caused them. Gee, there’s an idea we hadn’t thought of. Then she said, “You guys should look into doing IVF or something like that.” Ok, thanks, we’ll consider that.

Finally, she escorted me to the bathroom so I could change into the hospital gown and robe. After that, it was off to the pre-op area. I was composed until Ob walked over to R and me.

“Are you sure?” I tried to choke it out, but it took a few attempts before Ob could understand me. He squatted down in front of me, took my hand and gently pointed out that even if he had somehow overlooked the heartbeat, the baby’s shrinking size was conclusive. I didn’t realize I was squeezing his hand with a death grip until he tried to stand up.

The nurse came to get me, and I had to say goodbye to R. The last time we would get to hug while I was still carrying our baby.

I cried the whole way as she walked me to the operating room. People we passed in the hallway were probably staring, but I didn’t care. I just concentrated on the floor, on forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. She was very kind, telling me that if I wasn’t ready, I didn’t have to go in. That they would wait as long as they needed to. Do you think they would have minded waiting 20 years? There was no point in putting off the inevitable, so I just kept going.

The anesthesiologist was kind, too. He tried to lighten the mood by making a joke about being at my service as he took my robe. Then I climbed onto the operating table, and he began putting in the IV while the nurse put on a blood pressure cuff.

I remember thinking, “When I wake up, my baby’s going to be gone, and I’m not going to be pregnant any more.” And I remember trying to keep quiet and still as I cried.

Then I woke up. The oxygen mask was still over my nose and mouth, and I couldn’t open my eyes yet, but I realized I was sobbing. The hysterical, heaving, uncontrollable sobs you cry when a brief moment in time has just permanently, gut-wrenchingly altered your life forever. A moment as brief as the flicker of a tiny little heartbeat.

One of the nurses grabbed a Kleenex and pressed it against my eyes until I was conscious enough to move my arms and hold it myself. A couple of times, I heard someone say something about getting R, and then I heard myself begging, “No, please, don’t. Not yet. I don’t want him to see me cry.”

I don’t know how much time passed, but I kept refusing to let them bring him back to the recovery area. He’s seen me cry so many times during the past four and a half years. I know this is painful for him too, and I just can’t bear to add anything more to his pain. But then I heard the phone ring, and my nurse saying, “She’s fine. No, she really is fine. But I don’t know. She keeps saying she doesn’t want him back here. She hasn’t stopped crying since she came out of the operating room. I’ll have to ask her for permission.”

R is a very shy person, so I knew he had to be very worried to have approached someone. I realized that even though I wasn’t letting him see me cry, I was still causing him pain. So he came back to recovery, and I was able to leave about 15 minutes later.

Physically, it hasn’t been bad at all. I suspect this may be a lot less painful than the other four miscarriages were, particularly the first and third ones, for which I refused to take any pain relievers. (The first one because I didn’t know if I’d ever have another pregnancy and was determined to experience every last moment of it; the third one because I was still carrying Twin B at the time and refused to take anything on the very slim chance that the pregnancy would progress.)

I’m home now, and the tears come and go, as I imagine they will for a very long time. But I function best when I know what steps I’m going to take next, so R and I have made some decisions. We’re taking a different approach, and I’m going to focus on some other things, but we’re not giving up altogether. I’ll post more on the plan in a few days.

36 comments:

Thalia said...

Oh rebecca I'm so sorry you had to go through that. As D&Cs go, not so bad, but the fact you had to have one at all...

I hope you are allowing R to look after you.

Nico said...

I am so, so sorry for your loss. And that you had to go through that miserable day. I am glad that you talked about next steps, and came to a decision. I truly hope that whatever path you take brings some peace and joy into your life.

Rachel Inbar said...

You described your emotions incredibly well... I'm sitting here crying for you.

Grad3 said...

I know the pain that you talk of... and I wish there was some way for me to ease it. If only it could be fixed... the words I am sorry don't even begin to cover what I feel.

There are no words to explain the pain and sadness of RPL. The frustration when you look to the dr's for answers just to be given a blank stare in response...

It makes me angry for you that you had to sit there and listen to that nurse... I know she had good intentions but seriously! It was not the time. She should have kept her mouth shut and held your hand. I am sorry that was experience and I am so mad for you.

I hope that peace finds you soon, even if just for a moment. You are not alone ~Hugs~

Chili said...

I'm so very very sorry.

Kristen said...

I'm just so sad right now. I am so so sorry.

I am thinking of you and praying that peace will find you amongst the sadness.

Anna said...

Oh Rebecca, I am so very sorry for your loss. It is one you will feel most keenly, for a long time. I hate that you had to go through this. I really wanted this to work for you. I look forward to reading about your next steps; I'm glad you're moving forward, but give yourself ample time to grieve this loss as well. Be kind to yourself and to R. Many hus for you both during such a sad time.

Watson said...

Rebecca,

I just cried while reading your post, I wish there was something I could say to bring you some comfort.
Please know I'm thinking of you...

[hugs]

Reproductive Jeans said...

Just another one to offer you some support and hugs--I know its a small comfort in the loss you are feeling, but know I am praying for you...

Jenna said...

Wow.. Even the title of your posts reminds me of my own situation. We lost our baby at 11.4 weeks and we had called him Flicker because of the flicker of hope he provided us.
I'm so sorry you are expereincing these feelings. I just have nothing more to offer than a shoulder for you.

The Town Criers said...

My heart way breaking for you two as I read this. I'm so sorry, Rebecca.

Natalie said...

I'm so very very sorry. Just absolutely heartbreaking. :(

chicklet said...

Gawd, I am so so sorry you're going through this. Again. This is very very unfair.

sday said...

words cant explain my heartache for you. my tears and prayers are with you. i am so sorry.

Amy R said...

Rebecca, I'm so incredibly sorry. My heart aches for you.

Caro said...

So sorry.

lub said...

I am crying for you. I am so so sorry. May you find peace soon... I am so sorry.

Mrs. B said...

I am so sorry for your loss. I know that these words may not help much but please know that you are not alone in this. I cried the whole way through your post. I am so very, very sorry.

SaraS-P said...

I am just so sorry.

Adrienne said...

I am so sorry, Rebecca. There is nothing we can say to take the pain away. But know that we're all here, and many of us have been right where you are now and we understand so well. I hope that gives you some comfort.

JKH said...

I am so sorry you had to go through this. Your experience sounds almost exactly like mine. My heart aches for you and R. I hope that you are able to find some peace in the coming weeks. I know this journey is so hard...you're in my thoughts and prayers!

Hopeful Mother said...

Rebecca, I am so sorry for what you are going through, again. I wish that someone had some answers to take away your pain, but please know that we are all thinking of you.

Deb said...

I'm sorry for your loss. Wishing your strength and comfort during this difficult time.

Anne Marie said...

I'm so very sorry for your loss and for all your other losses as well. I know that there are no words....

Meg said...

wow - I am soooo sorry - that was a really hard post to get through - I had to keep stopping to wipe my tears. My heart is with you.

Babyblues said...

I am crying with you. I'm waiting for my body to expel our little "hope" before I could schedule a D&C. I'm tired. Tired of crying and feeling so empty. Know that I am here with you.

Carrie said...

I know there are no words that can possibly be of any comfort to you right now, but please know that I am thinking of you, crying with you and screaming at the universe as to the unfairness of all of this. I am so sorry you had to say goodbye to your baby. I am so sorry you had to do this again.

Sunny said...

I am so very sorry. I hate those words. HUGS!

Anonymous said...

I'm so, so sorry.

Beagle said...

I'm so very sorry, don't know what else to say, my thoughts are with you.

VanillaDreams said...

Rebecca,

I'm so sorry for your loss.

A D&C on top of it all just makes it that much worse.

It's the only thing I'm glad of in all of my miscarriages -- that I managed to avoid a D&C with all of them.

I'm sorry you had to go through this -- it's just so awful, and there are not enough words.

I hope you can let your husband and family be of some comfort to you, and that in time, you find some healing.

Many hugs to you,
Nilla
xx

MrsSpock said...

I am so terribly sorry...I cried all the way through this post...

Kami said...

I am so sorry. I wish there was anything anyone could do to make this easier.

sharah said...

There really are no words to express how I ache for your loss and how I hope your pain heals. I am so sorry.

cingrn said...

I don't even know when this was posted, but I found it when I was myself looking up information about the D&C I will have done tomorrow. I woke up this morning 10 1/2 weeks pregnant to go into my dr with minor spotting and find out My baby is no longer living. I feel your hurt. I don't even know what to think right now, but question(even though 2 doctors said the same thing) if they could possably be wrong. My husband is being so supportive, but feels like when I'm around him it hurts more. I was suspose to be the safe place for our baby and I failed. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I do. Reading your story which I and to come back to 3 times to finish has helped me so much. Thank you for your blog and best wishes for you.

Anonymous said...

I have to get a d&c done on Friday thus is our second loss thus made Ms cry cuz I feel the same but I've waited.a month and my body didn't do it naturally this time its devestating