This is the third time that I have sat down to write this entry and conveniently find something else to do on the internet. I do not want to relive this day. I do not want to think of every detail and do not want to relive those emotions. I hated this day. It crushed me. It changed me. It took parts of me that I am still trying to get back. I do not want to push through. Remembering it hurts.
Eleven and a half weeks pregnant and I am bleeding. I had spotted a little bit with Anderson, but this was more than spotting. Its one of those moments when you bargain with reality and convince yourself that what you are seeing could not mean what you know it means. My heart just stopped. Completely. I got on the phone with Kevin, who was at work and just blurted out after I heard a “hello” that I was bleeding. He did as anyone would do and asked what does that mean and I said that I suspected I was
miscarrying. I told him he needed to come home and take me to the ER. Then I tried to call anyone in my presidency to take over the sharing time I was supposed to teach. For about half a second I was contemplating still going to teach sharing time and
going to the ER after I taught, whatever was happening wasn’t going to be any different in three hours, but the stress of not knowing would make me so unfocused I knew I couldn’t do it. It was only about 5 minutes before sacrament and the likelihood that I was going to catch anyone still home was slim, but I still wanted to try. I called my second counselor, no answer. First counselor, got an answer. I quickly told her that I was bleeding and needed to go to the ER and asked if she could teach my sharing time. She of course agreed and I told her I would leave everything outside my door for her. I made a few other phone calls to close friends to see if someone could take my kids so I wouldn’t have to take them with me and finally got someone to answer. My kind sister in law left in the middle of her own church after she heard the panic in my voice and ran down to get my kids from me. Kevin was still on his way home. It felt like time was standing still. I think I was in the mindset that if I got to the hospital quick enough that maybe something could be done to stop it. And was also trying to convince myself that maybe it was a sign of something good. Maybe it meant I was having twins or maybe it was just fine. Please, please, please mean anything but what I know it means.
Kevin got home and almost immediately after that my sister in law, who must have been driving 80 miles an hour to get to my house from her house that fast, got there. She grabbed car seats and piled the kids in her car then we both sped away in different directions. Strangely enough the first miscarriage I had, it was the same sister in law that came to my rescue. She was kind and empathetic and both times it was a Sunday and both times she dropped what she was doing to run to my rescue and
take care of my kids. She will forever be in my debt, I am so unbelievably lucky to have such wonderful people around me, like her, to help me when I am in need.
I got to the ER and checked in. The front desk person was cheery and was taking down some general information and then asked why I was there, I simply stated I was 11 ½ weeks pregnant and was bleeding. Her demeanor changed and she must have sent a message somehow to the charge nurse because as soon as I was done checking in, she was waiting for me to take my vitals and get me into a room in front of the other people that were in the waiting room. A different nurse came in and started an IV and asked a few questions and then gave me a lot of water to drink so I could get a full bladder for an ultra sound. Then they left me in the room for what seemed like hours. Finally a doctor came in and very quickly asked me a few questions about previous pregnancies and told me that someone form radiology would come and get me in a few minutes. The nurse came in a few times to check on me, she was very nice, one of those so nice people that it was almost annoying, kind of nice people. I appreciated that she was so attentive, but was also anxious to hear a definitive answer on what was going on. But, really I did not want to hear it I wanted to live in MY realty where everything was perfect and I stayed pregnant and had a healthy baby girl; one week early with curly blonde hair and blue eyes, so we could continue to say we had the most beautiful blonde boy, beautiful chocolate boy, beautiful chocolate girl and then the most beautiful blonde girl. It was my perfect realty. “Please let it stay my realty,” I begged to anyone and everyone up in the Heavens that would hear me. Please, please, please.
It was about two hours after I checked in and finally radiology came into get me. They wheeled me down the hall and started the ultrasound. I was pleading and begging that when that instrument hit my skin, that they would immediately see good things. Anything but what I knew it was. The tech went about his work silently. It was an eerie reminder of how silent the ultrasound tech was with my first miscarriage. They won’t say anything that they see when its bad news. They want to get all their facts straight before they tell you anything. He finally asked how far along I was and after I told him he simply stated that what he is seeing isn’t what he should be seeing at that stage. He said it looked like the fetus had not progressed past 8 weeks. Then he asked me if I could empty my bladder so he could do an internal ultrasound for a better view. I was bleeding even more than before and was cramping up pretty good too. He finished the ultrasound and then took me back to my room. Kevin was with me the entire time and was trying to keep me distracted with anything that he could. I glanced down at my phone and saw that I had a few text messages. It was friends at church, who were wondering where I was, they knew the board member was there and knew I was teaching and when they asked my counselors where I was and heard, they wanted to send support and love. It was kind of them, but I hated being the topic of conversation at church. I hated the rumor mill that was now me. I didn’t respond. I lay in the hospital bed cold and numb. The doctor finally came back in and very indifferently told me that I was, in fact, miscarrying he told me that I had a choice of a DNC or I could go home and ride it out. He told me that it would be the hardest 10 days of my life, both physically and emotionally. He recommended the DNC, but said it was up to my husband and I to choose. I told him I wanted to go home and he told me that he would give me a prescription for some pain medication. The nurse came back in and told me how sorry she was. She unhooked my IV and gave me some paperwork to read over. She asked me if I was okay, if I needed some support people to talk to she asked if I had been through this before, I told her twice. She was very empathetic and said how sorry she was. She asked if they had any idea what was causing them and I said no. But mentioned to her that I thought this one was most likely stress. And jut briefly explained to her that my sister’s funeral was the day before and it had been a really rough few months between the two of us. I started to cry and when I looked up, she was too. She held my hand and called me sweetheart and said how truly sorry she was. She didn’t annoy me anymore.
I got out of the hospital gown and got my prescriptions and left the hospital. Kevin stopped on the way home to pick them up while I sat in my car. As soon as he left my phone rang, it was my second counselor and very good friend. I told her how sorry I was that I had to leave them with everything in primary and asked if it went well, she said it was fine and then asked what happened. I told her we lost the baby and she expressed how sorry she was and asked if she could bring me dinner and I told
her to let me think about it. We hung up and no sooner did I receive a text message from her telling me that she WAS bringing me dinner. She told me that I had not given her the chance to say no when I knew she needed it, so she was going to do the same service to me. I thanked her for being such a good friend. Kevin came out from getting my medicine and we went home.
He went to pick up the kids and I called my sister in law to tell her he was on his way. Her husband picked up and asked if everything was okay and I told him our heart breaking news as well. He expressed how sorry he was and told me that they would do anything they could to help out.
Saying it was harder than knowing it. Telling people that we had lost our baby seemed to make it so much more real than what it was when it was my own private news. And every time that I said it, it made it more real. I sat alone on my couch and cried. Silently. Only for a minute. I was afraid of that emotion. I was afraid that feeling that devastation of losing my baby would consume me. So I stopped and got up and started a load of laundry. My phone was ringing and I ignored it. I was getting text alerts and I did not look at them. I couldn’t tell anyone else. I wanted to get back to my life. I wanted to rewind to that morning and feel that joy and excitement about primary and getting back to whatever normal I was seeking after such a hard few months.
I wanted to feel happy.
I finally answered one of the many phone calls I was getting; this particular one was our ward compassionate service leader asking what she could do for me. I told her that the doctor said it was going to be a very hard week and she said she would have dinners taken care of.I hated taking help. I had made it through 3 new babies, 1 surgery, broken foot and 2 miscarriages without taking help and I was reluctant to take help this time too. Somehow she new that I didn't want to take help, and before I knew it I had hung up the phone and realized that meals were coming all week long. I was told afterwards that she only had to make one call and received 6 from people in the ward that asked if they could bring a meal in. I was so touched by the friendship that I had. Having served in that calling before, I knew that sometimes you had to make 6 phone calls to get 2 meals into a family in need, so it meant a lot to me that so many people were offering. The next two days were really not bad at all. I was up and moving around and wasn’t in any pain, I actually felt guilty for taking meals in those two days, because I was completely capable of doing it myself.
Kevin had interviewed at a machine shop in Salt lake earlier in the month for a second job and they wanted him to come in for a working interview the next morning. I was feeling good and we talked about it and decided that it would be fine for him to go, he would be home by 1 in the afternoon if things got bad and all I had to do was get the boys off to school and I could lay around and watch TV with the little lady. I got up that morning and had intense cramps and was bleeding much, much heavier than the previous days. I took the first pain pill that I had since leaving the ER, got the boys ready to go- even had them eat cereal for breakfast, which is never done at our house (my children seem to think that cold cereal is a punishment. I know; weirdo’s) and managed to stay with it enough to get them too school and home again. I got home and got right into the shower; that’s when things went from bad to worse. I was bleeding so heavily that the entire bottom of the tub was filled with blood. Even with an entire pain pill that would normally bring me close to a coma, I was still hunched over in pain. I finally gave up and just laid down in the shower. I said a quick prayer in my head and asked for just enough strength to get form the shower to my bed and shortly after got a small window to get up, grab some clothes and lay down. Kevin called me at about 10 and asked how things were going and I told him that it was really bad. He asked if I wanted him to come home and I told him that as long as I didn’t get out of bed I was okay and to stay there until he was done. Unfortunately, the 2 year old that was keeping me company didn’t allow me to stay in bed. She made mischief of one kind or another and I was forced to get up a few times. Each time I did, I had blood running down to my knees in a matter of a few seconds. I decided to camp out on my couch instead of the bed, where I could at least hear what naughty things were happening. Noon came around and I felt horrible. I couldn’t stand up without horrible buleeding and the cramping was unbearable. Kevin called to tell me he was on his way home and I could hardly keep a conversation. He told me to call the doctor and ask what to do, so I did and they told me to go back to the ER because I was losing too much blood. I got back on the phone with Kevin and told him to drive faster. Then I called a good friend and asked if not only could she watch my little trouble maker, but if he could pack up her own children and come and get her because I could not even stand up let alone drive. She did and then when she got here had to get clothes on my child and gather a few things for her to take; I just sat helpless on the couch. I knew if I tried to stand up I would pass out so I did nothing until Kevin got home. She also agreed to pick up my boys from school and keep them with her until we got home. She was my angel of the day.
Kevin got there shortly after my friend left and I directed him to go and get me another change of pants, my 4th pair for the day, and then he carried me out to the car and took me back to the ER. They took me straight back; apparently my doctor called them and warned them that I was coming. They hooked me up to an IV and took some blood to test and then told me to wait there for radiology. I laid in the bed lifeless. About 30 minutes later a lady from radiology came in with a wheel chair. She said she was there to take me for an ultrasound and asked me to get in the wheelchair. I told her I could barely sit up let alone stand up to move from a bed to a chair and she explained that she was in a car accident a few months ago and she didn’t have the strength to push the bed. The attitude that she told me that really did not make me sympathetic to her, it just irritated me. Kevin said that he would push the bed and she grunted and told him to follow her.
She was very rude. We got to the ultrasound room and she very insensitively asked me if I had passed to fetus, how much I was bleeding, if I had passed out, then started the ultrasound. She pushed the instrument so hard against my already sensitive stomach and flipped it all kinds of directions and then just blurted out in a very tactless way, “No, you haven’t passed the fetus. It's right here, disintegrating. You’ll probably pass chunks of it in a few hours.” I did not even have words. It was hard enough to know that my baby had died, but for her to so cruelly say that it wasn’t even in one piece any more was so much more disturbing. She finished up with the ultrasound and then showed Kevin how to get back to our room. I had an fluids going in my IV and the doctor came in and told me that he thought he worst was almost over. He said I could go back home after I finished the IV bag and didn’t give me any other information. I just laid there in pain and heartbreak for about another hour. I did feel physically better, like I had a little more energy, after I got the fluids. I even walked out of the hospital and to the car to go home. It was short lived, though. I got home, made it up to my bed and started cramping really bad again. It was close to dinner time and my new visiting teacher, who I had not met yet, was bringing dinner over. I thought I heard a knock at the door and I was feeling pretty good so I wanted to go downstairs and meet her. I got about half down my stairs and started feeling really lightheaded and felt blood running down my legs again. I headed for the bathroom and knew that I was fading fast. I called for Kevin, managed to say “I’m going to pass out” and I was out. Kevin told me he freaked out and caught me from falling off the toilet and shook me a little bit to wake me up, which he did. I think I mumbled something to him and I was out again.
Side note: When Kevin was in his early twenties, his grandmother called to him from the bathroom in a panic and died, right there in his arms, so him freaking out would be a huge understatement.
He had laid me down on the floor while I was out, in a pool of blood. I laid there for a few minutes until I felt good enough to sit up, Kevin lifted me into the tub and started the shower then he cleaned up the huge mess. Saying that he was super-husband was an understatement. He carried me upstairs, got me some clean clothes and told me that I was not to get out of bed for anything at all. He got my cell phone, told me to text him when I needed to get up and he would carry me. Clearly, he was freaked out. All night long he got up with me every few hours, made sure that I was getting enough to drink and eat and kept me on continuous pain medication. I still felt horrible and so run down. It was at this point that I knew the doctor was right in telling me that the next week would be really tough.
Kevin was trying to take care of Kena, the boys, the house, me and try to get some work done too. Kenaley fell asleep so he told me he was going to go outside and get some work done. He told me to text if I needed anything. I hated being such a burden to him, hated that I was taking so much of his time. I figured that for sure I could get up to go to the bathroom by myself, it was only 12 feet or so away from where I was, so I got up. Right away I knew it was a mistake, I was bleeding bad. I held the edge of the bed and tried to move as fast as I could to the bathroom. It was bad, really bad, the blood soaked through my pants, was past my knees and was leaving a trail on the floor. I made it to the toilet, and then passed a clot as big as my hand. Right then I heard the kitchen door close, so I called for Kevin. He ran upstairs, saw the blood everywhere, gasped and then yelled “are you okay?” I told him I was fine, told him I was going to take a shower and told him how sorry I was for the huge mess. He cleaned it all up and got me back in bed, then told me to stay there. Again.
Later that afternoon, I had a doctor’s appointment with my regular doctor. We got there and he asked me a bunch of questions, Kevin told him that things were really bad and he was freaked out over how much blood I had lost. He took some blood to get a blood count to see what kind of shape I was in. He came back in a few minutes later and asked what my level was yesterday in the ER. I told him the doctor did not tell me and he said that I was extremely low. Dangerously low. He called the hospital to get the level and came back in to tell me that I really could not lose any more blood. He told me that the numbers he was looking at pointed to me loosing 4-5 pints of blood. He said it was really bad and I would likely need a transfusion. I really did not want one. He told me he would let me go home, but gave me a prescription for a 2000% iron supplement. Told me to come back in the next day to get my level checked again. He said if it was lower then I would have to have a transfusion. He asked me if I thought I had passed the fetus and I told him I wasn’t sure. I told him what the radiologist said, and he said he was going to consult a few OBGYN’s on what to do next.
The next day was halloween. the kids costumes were luckily mostly done, i just had to do a few adjustments to them, which a bed-riden person could easily do. I gave very clear instructions to kevin to get them ready for school in their costumes and sent them off. It made me sad. i usually loved halloween. They always had a parade in their school and this was the first year i was going to miss it. Kevin went and tried to give me a play by play, but it wasn't the same. They came home and sat on my bed and told me all about their day. I loved listening to it, but it was more that i had lost. I couldn;t go to their schooland I knew that going trick or treating with them was a no-go. I made it down the stairs and onto the couch to get them all dressed up again, took a few pictures and then sent them with Kevin to go trick or treating. He was so good and took at least 20 pictures and the kids came hom enad offered their most prized treats to me. They were so sweet and made it almost bearable.
The next day I got a phone call from my doctor and he told me that he called a prescription in for me. He told me that it is a drug that they use when moms who just gave birth are hemorrhaging; the drug makes their uterus clean everything out and stops the bleeding. He told if I had not passed the fetus then I would bleed very heavily, in which case I would need to go directly to the ER and get a blood transfusion, but if I had then I would stop bleeding. Kevin and I talked it over and we decided that it would be better for me to start it in the morning rather than at night, because we would have a really hard time finding a babysitter for our kids if we needed to go to the ER in the middle of the night. We told the doctor our plan and he agreed. So we stuck it out one more night, and made plans for me to take the medicine in the morning. For the first few hours it intensified the cramps and made the bleeding a little heavier, but then slowed it down remarkably by the afternoon. Things started to get a little better and the bleeding slowed way down. I had to go in to my doctors office everyday to get a blood draw and see if my levels were still okay, so that morning I did and they were very, very slowly climbing up. It seemed like we were out of the woods. Physically, the worst was over. Emotionally, I hadn’t even cracked the surface.
Eleven and a half weeks pregnant and I am bleeding. I had spotted a little bit with Anderson, but this was more than spotting. Its one of those moments when you bargain with reality and convince yourself that what you are seeing could not mean what you know it means. My heart just stopped. Completely. I got on the phone with Kevin, who was at work and just blurted out after I heard a “hello” that I was bleeding. He did as anyone would do and asked what does that mean and I said that I suspected I was
miscarrying. I told him he needed to come home and take me to the ER. Then I tried to call anyone in my presidency to take over the sharing time I was supposed to teach. For about half a second I was contemplating still going to teach sharing time and
going to the ER after I taught, whatever was happening wasn’t going to be any different in three hours, but the stress of not knowing would make me so unfocused I knew I couldn’t do it. It was only about 5 minutes before sacrament and the likelihood that I was going to catch anyone still home was slim, but I still wanted to try. I called my second counselor, no answer. First counselor, got an answer. I quickly told her that I was bleeding and needed to go to the ER and asked if she could teach my sharing time. She of course agreed and I told her I would leave everything outside my door for her. I made a few other phone calls to close friends to see if someone could take my kids so I wouldn’t have to take them with me and finally got someone to answer. My kind sister in law left in the middle of her own church after she heard the panic in my voice and ran down to get my kids from me. Kevin was still on his way home. It felt like time was standing still. I think I was in the mindset that if I got to the hospital quick enough that maybe something could be done to stop it. And was also trying to convince myself that maybe it was a sign of something good. Maybe it meant I was having twins or maybe it was just fine. Please, please, please mean anything but what I know it means.
Kevin got home and almost immediately after that my sister in law, who must have been driving 80 miles an hour to get to my house from her house that fast, got there. She grabbed car seats and piled the kids in her car then we both sped away in different directions. Strangely enough the first miscarriage I had, it was the same sister in law that came to my rescue. She was kind and empathetic and both times it was a Sunday and both times she dropped what she was doing to run to my rescue and
take care of my kids. She will forever be in my debt, I am so unbelievably lucky to have such wonderful people around me, like her, to help me when I am in need.
I got to the ER and checked in. The front desk person was cheery and was taking down some general information and then asked why I was there, I simply stated I was 11 ½ weeks pregnant and was bleeding. Her demeanor changed and she must have sent a message somehow to the charge nurse because as soon as I was done checking in, she was waiting for me to take my vitals and get me into a room in front of the other people that were in the waiting room. A different nurse came in and started an IV and asked a few questions and then gave me a lot of water to drink so I could get a full bladder for an ultra sound. Then they left me in the room for what seemed like hours. Finally a doctor came in and very quickly asked me a few questions about previous pregnancies and told me that someone form radiology would come and get me in a few minutes. The nurse came in a few times to check on me, she was very nice, one of those so nice people that it was almost annoying, kind of nice people. I appreciated that she was so attentive, but was also anxious to hear a definitive answer on what was going on. But, really I did not want to hear it I wanted to live in MY realty where everything was perfect and I stayed pregnant and had a healthy baby girl; one week early with curly blonde hair and blue eyes, so we could continue to say we had the most beautiful blonde boy, beautiful chocolate boy, beautiful chocolate girl and then the most beautiful blonde girl. It was my perfect realty. “Please let it stay my realty,” I begged to anyone and everyone up in the Heavens that would hear me. Please, please, please.
It was about two hours after I checked in and finally radiology came into get me. They wheeled me down the hall and started the ultrasound. I was pleading and begging that when that instrument hit my skin, that they would immediately see good things. Anything but what I knew it was. The tech went about his work silently. It was an eerie reminder of how silent the ultrasound tech was with my first miscarriage. They won’t say anything that they see when its bad news. They want to get all their facts straight before they tell you anything. He finally asked how far along I was and after I told him he simply stated that what he is seeing isn’t what he should be seeing at that stage. He said it looked like the fetus had not progressed past 8 weeks. Then he asked me if I could empty my bladder so he could do an internal ultrasound for a better view. I was bleeding even more than before and was cramping up pretty good too. He finished the ultrasound and then took me back to my room. Kevin was with me the entire time and was trying to keep me distracted with anything that he could. I glanced down at my phone and saw that I had a few text messages. It was friends at church, who were wondering where I was, they knew the board member was there and knew I was teaching and when they asked my counselors where I was and heard, they wanted to send support and love. It was kind of them, but I hated being the topic of conversation at church. I hated the rumor mill that was now me. I didn’t respond. I lay in the hospital bed cold and numb. The doctor finally came back in and very indifferently told me that I was, in fact, miscarrying he told me that I had a choice of a DNC or I could go home and ride it out. He told me that it would be the hardest 10 days of my life, both physically and emotionally. He recommended the DNC, but said it was up to my husband and I to choose. I told him I wanted to go home and he told me that he would give me a prescription for some pain medication. The nurse came back in and told me how sorry she was. She unhooked my IV and gave me some paperwork to read over. She asked me if I was okay, if I needed some support people to talk to she asked if I had been through this before, I told her twice. She was very empathetic and said how sorry she was. She asked if they had any idea what was causing them and I said no. But mentioned to her that I thought this one was most likely stress. And jut briefly explained to her that my sister’s funeral was the day before and it had been a really rough few months between the two of us. I started to cry and when I looked up, she was too. She held my hand and called me sweetheart and said how truly sorry she was. She didn’t annoy me anymore.
I got out of the hospital gown and got my prescriptions and left the hospital. Kevin stopped on the way home to pick them up while I sat in my car. As soon as he left my phone rang, it was my second counselor and very good friend. I told her how sorry I was that I had to leave them with everything in primary and asked if it went well, she said it was fine and then asked what happened. I told her we lost the baby and she expressed how sorry she was and asked if she could bring me dinner and I told
her to let me think about it. We hung up and no sooner did I receive a text message from her telling me that she WAS bringing me dinner. She told me that I had not given her the chance to say no when I knew she needed it, so she was going to do the same service to me. I thanked her for being such a good friend. Kevin came out from getting my medicine and we went home.
He went to pick up the kids and I called my sister in law to tell her he was on his way. Her husband picked up and asked if everything was okay and I told him our heart breaking news as well. He expressed how sorry he was and told me that they would do anything they could to help out.
Saying it was harder than knowing it. Telling people that we had lost our baby seemed to make it so much more real than what it was when it was my own private news. And every time that I said it, it made it more real. I sat alone on my couch and cried. Silently. Only for a minute. I was afraid of that emotion. I was afraid that feeling that devastation of losing my baby would consume me. So I stopped and got up and started a load of laundry. My phone was ringing and I ignored it. I was getting text alerts and I did not look at them. I couldn’t tell anyone else. I wanted to get back to my life. I wanted to rewind to that morning and feel that joy and excitement about primary and getting back to whatever normal I was seeking after such a hard few months.
I wanted to feel happy.
I finally answered one of the many phone calls I was getting; this particular one was our ward compassionate service leader asking what she could do for me. I told her that the doctor said it was going to be a very hard week and she said she would have dinners taken care of.I hated taking help. I had made it through 3 new babies, 1 surgery, broken foot and 2 miscarriages without taking help and I was reluctant to take help this time too. Somehow she new that I didn't want to take help, and before I knew it I had hung up the phone and realized that meals were coming all week long. I was told afterwards that she only had to make one call and received 6 from people in the ward that asked if they could bring a meal in. I was so touched by the friendship that I had. Having served in that calling before, I knew that sometimes you had to make 6 phone calls to get 2 meals into a family in need, so it meant a lot to me that so many people were offering. The next two days were really not bad at all. I was up and moving around and wasn’t in any pain, I actually felt guilty for taking meals in those two days, because I was completely capable of doing it myself.
Kevin had interviewed at a machine shop in Salt lake earlier in the month for a second job and they wanted him to come in for a working interview the next morning. I was feeling good and we talked about it and decided that it would be fine for him to go, he would be home by 1 in the afternoon if things got bad and all I had to do was get the boys off to school and I could lay around and watch TV with the little lady. I got up that morning and had intense cramps and was bleeding much, much heavier than the previous days. I took the first pain pill that I had since leaving the ER, got the boys ready to go- even had them eat cereal for breakfast, which is never done at our house (my children seem to think that cold cereal is a punishment. I know; weirdo’s) and managed to stay with it enough to get them too school and home again. I got home and got right into the shower; that’s when things went from bad to worse. I was bleeding so heavily that the entire bottom of the tub was filled with blood. Even with an entire pain pill that would normally bring me close to a coma, I was still hunched over in pain. I finally gave up and just laid down in the shower. I said a quick prayer in my head and asked for just enough strength to get form the shower to my bed and shortly after got a small window to get up, grab some clothes and lay down. Kevin called me at about 10 and asked how things were going and I told him that it was really bad. He asked if I wanted him to come home and I told him that as long as I didn’t get out of bed I was okay and to stay there until he was done. Unfortunately, the 2 year old that was keeping me company didn’t allow me to stay in bed. She made mischief of one kind or another and I was forced to get up a few times. Each time I did, I had blood running down to my knees in a matter of a few seconds. I decided to camp out on my couch instead of the bed, where I could at least hear what naughty things were happening. Noon came around and I felt horrible. I couldn’t stand up without horrible buleeding and the cramping was unbearable. Kevin called to tell me he was on his way home and I could hardly keep a conversation. He told me to call the doctor and ask what to do, so I did and they told me to go back to the ER because I was losing too much blood. I got back on the phone with Kevin and told him to drive faster. Then I called a good friend and asked if not only could she watch my little trouble maker, but if he could pack up her own children and come and get her because I could not even stand up let alone drive. She did and then when she got here had to get clothes on my child and gather a few things for her to take; I just sat helpless on the couch. I knew if I tried to stand up I would pass out so I did nothing until Kevin got home. She also agreed to pick up my boys from school and keep them with her until we got home. She was my angel of the day.
Kevin got there shortly after my friend left and I directed him to go and get me another change of pants, my 4th pair for the day, and then he carried me out to the car and took me back to the ER. They took me straight back; apparently my doctor called them and warned them that I was coming. They hooked me up to an IV and took some blood to test and then told me to wait there for radiology. I laid in the bed lifeless. About 30 minutes later a lady from radiology came in with a wheel chair. She said she was there to take me for an ultrasound and asked me to get in the wheelchair. I told her I could barely sit up let alone stand up to move from a bed to a chair and she explained that she was in a car accident a few months ago and she didn’t have the strength to push the bed. The attitude that she told me that really did not make me sympathetic to her, it just irritated me. Kevin said that he would push the bed and she grunted and told him to follow her.
She was very rude. We got to the ultrasound room and she very insensitively asked me if I had passed to fetus, how much I was bleeding, if I had passed out, then started the ultrasound. She pushed the instrument so hard against my already sensitive stomach and flipped it all kinds of directions and then just blurted out in a very tactless way, “No, you haven’t passed the fetus. It's right here, disintegrating. You’ll probably pass chunks of it in a few hours.” I did not even have words. It was hard enough to know that my baby had died, but for her to so cruelly say that it wasn’t even in one piece any more was so much more disturbing. She finished up with the ultrasound and then showed Kevin how to get back to our room. I had an fluids going in my IV and the doctor came in and told me that he thought he worst was almost over. He said I could go back home after I finished the IV bag and didn’t give me any other information. I just laid there in pain and heartbreak for about another hour. I did feel physically better, like I had a little more energy, after I got the fluids. I even walked out of the hospital and to the car to go home. It was short lived, though. I got home, made it up to my bed and started cramping really bad again. It was close to dinner time and my new visiting teacher, who I had not met yet, was bringing dinner over. I thought I heard a knock at the door and I was feeling pretty good so I wanted to go downstairs and meet her. I got about half down my stairs and started feeling really lightheaded and felt blood running down my legs again. I headed for the bathroom and knew that I was fading fast. I called for Kevin, managed to say “I’m going to pass out” and I was out. Kevin told me he freaked out and caught me from falling off the toilet and shook me a little bit to wake me up, which he did. I think I mumbled something to him and I was out again.
Side note: When Kevin was in his early twenties, his grandmother called to him from the bathroom in a panic and died, right there in his arms, so him freaking out would be a huge understatement.
He had laid me down on the floor while I was out, in a pool of blood. I laid there for a few minutes until I felt good enough to sit up, Kevin lifted me into the tub and started the shower then he cleaned up the huge mess. Saying that he was super-husband was an understatement. He carried me upstairs, got me some clean clothes and told me that I was not to get out of bed for anything at all. He got my cell phone, told me to text him when I needed to get up and he would carry me. Clearly, he was freaked out. All night long he got up with me every few hours, made sure that I was getting enough to drink and eat and kept me on continuous pain medication. I still felt horrible and so run down. It was at this point that I knew the doctor was right in telling me that the next week would be really tough.
Kevin was trying to take care of Kena, the boys, the house, me and try to get some work done too. Kenaley fell asleep so he told me he was going to go outside and get some work done. He told me to text if I needed anything. I hated being such a burden to him, hated that I was taking so much of his time. I figured that for sure I could get up to go to the bathroom by myself, it was only 12 feet or so away from where I was, so I got up. Right away I knew it was a mistake, I was bleeding bad. I held the edge of the bed and tried to move as fast as I could to the bathroom. It was bad, really bad, the blood soaked through my pants, was past my knees and was leaving a trail on the floor. I made it to the toilet, and then passed a clot as big as my hand. Right then I heard the kitchen door close, so I called for Kevin. He ran upstairs, saw the blood everywhere, gasped and then yelled “are you okay?” I told him I was fine, told him I was going to take a shower and told him how sorry I was for the huge mess. He cleaned it all up and got me back in bed, then told me to stay there. Again.
Later that afternoon, I had a doctor’s appointment with my regular doctor. We got there and he asked me a bunch of questions, Kevin told him that things were really bad and he was freaked out over how much blood I had lost. He took some blood to get a blood count to see what kind of shape I was in. He came back in a few minutes later and asked what my level was yesterday in the ER. I told him the doctor did not tell me and he said that I was extremely low. Dangerously low. He called the hospital to get the level and came back in to tell me that I really could not lose any more blood. He told me that the numbers he was looking at pointed to me loosing 4-5 pints of blood. He said it was really bad and I would likely need a transfusion. I really did not want one. He told me he would let me go home, but gave me a prescription for a 2000% iron supplement. Told me to come back in the next day to get my level checked again. He said if it was lower then I would have to have a transfusion. He asked me if I thought I had passed the fetus and I told him I wasn’t sure. I told him what the radiologist said, and he said he was going to consult a few OBGYN’s on what to do next.
The next day was halloween. the kids costumes were luckily mostly done, i just had to do a few adjustments to them, which a bed-riden person could easily do. I gave very clear instructions to kevin to get them ready for school in their costumes and sent them off. It made me sad. i usually loved halloween. They always had a parade in their school and this was the first year i was going to miss it. Kevin went and tried to give me a play by play, but it wasn't the same. They came home and sat on my bed and told me all about their day. I loved listening to it, but it was more that i had lost. I couldn;t go to their schooland I knew that going trick or treating with them was a no-go. I made it down the stairs and onto the couch to get them all dressed up again, took a few pictures and then sent them with Kevin to go trick or treating. He was so good and took at least 20 pictures and the kids came hom enad offered their most prized treats to me. They were so sweet and made it almost bearable.
The next day I got a phone call from my doctor and he told me that he called a prescription in for me. He told me that it is a drug that they use when moms who just gave birth are hemorrhaging; the drug makes their uterus clean everything out and stops the bleeding. He told if I had not passed the fetus then I would bleed very heavily, in which case I would need to go directly to the ER and get a blood transfusion, but if I had then I would stop bleeding. Kevin and I talked it over and we decided that it would be better for me to start it in the morning rather than at night, because we would have a really hard time finding a babysitter for our kids if we needed to go to the ER in the middle of the night. We told the doctor our plan and he agreed. So we stuck it out one more night, and made plans for me to take the medicine in the morning. For the first few hours it intensified the cramps and made the bleeding a little heavier, but then slowed it down remarkably by the afternoon. Things started to get a little better and the bleeding slowed way down. I had to go in to my doctors office everyday to get a blood draw and see if my levels were still okay, so that morning I did and they were very, very slowly climbing up. It seemed like we were out of the woods. Physically, the worst was over. Emotionally, I hadn’t even cracked the surface.
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