D&C

I appreciate you hanging with me for these less than fun posts. It's actually been incredibly cathartic to write about this whole process. I am, and have always been a big time feelings person. I have "big feelings" and am a total open book when it comes to my emotions. That's been particularly challenging during miscarriage, because it's generally such a hush-hush and taboo subject. I, quite frankly, think that's ridiculous. I think that miscarriage is something that NEEDS to be talked about. It's so much more common than it seems, and it's often a quiet pain for women. So I'm talking...or at least writing. I hope that these posts can provide at least a little comfort for women facing the same.

Rewind to Thursday. I was at work, trying my best to be productive to make up for my missed days earlier in the week. Thank God for super super supportive co-workers. I got lots of hugs, kind words, and even some chocolate delivered to my desk.

In the afternoon I got a voicemail from the surgery schedulers to confirm my appointment. When I called back I found out that they had me scheduled for check in at 6:30 AM the next morning. That really wasn't going to work. I couldn't imagine how I was going to get to the hospital (with a driver) by 6:30 with Linnea to think about. So I asked if there was anything later. After a little back and forth, we settled on 3:30, with a 2:00 check-in. This worked MUCH better time wise. The only unfortunate part is that it meant I couldn't eat anything after breakfast!

Friday morning I headed to my parents with Jeromy and Linnea to hang out there for the day (Jeromy had to work, but Linnea was there for her usual Friday). It was a long morning. It was hard to be happy and playful, when I was so scared and sad about what I had to face that afternoon. I managed to snooze a little on the couch, and enjoy some extra, much needed time with my sweet girl.

A little after 11:00 I got a call from the surgeon who would be doing the procedure. He explained that he was reviewing my record, and with the information he had, he did not feel comfortable going through with the surgery. What?! He explained more...the baby was measuring 6 weeks, 1 day. Even though the "numbers" (date of last period, positive pregnancy) clearly indicated I was 9 weeks, if something did happen to be "off," a 6 week, 1 day baby would not necessarily have a visible heartbeat. Since he didn't have any information beyond the ultrasound and those dates, he indicated he did not have a clear diagnosis of miscarriage.

With a bit more conversation we decided I would go to the Chanhassen clinic to get my blood drawn to test for HSG (the pregnancy hormone). Our hope was that the results would point to a clear diagnosis (of course the real hope is that it would provide indication that there may actually be a healthy baby in there, but that was very slim). The surgeon said he would call with the results, but we may need to delay it until Monday.

So I ran to the clinic, got my blood drawn. and went back home to my parents. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. No call. It was getting close to 2:00, so my mom and I headed to the hospital. I got checked in, and was brought back to the surgery center. Enter the nerves. Got changed into a robe, and started talking with the nurse. At this point, I didn't even know if they'd be able to go through with the procedure, and no one else seemed to know either.

They tracked down the surgeon. He apologized profusely, and said he had just found out that the Chanhassen clinic doesn't test for HSG on site, so they didn't have the results. ARG! Rather than wait for them to send it across town, they decided to test it again. The doctor said that the lab said it would only take 15-20 minutes. We waited. And waited. And waited.

FINALLY the surgeon came back with the results. (I will say again that the doctor was so, so, so wonderful. He was so present. So compassionate. So kind.). He carefully explained that my HSG levels were very high.... more in line with being 9 weeks along. With those HSG levels, the baby should definitely have a visible heartbeat. So he was able to formally diagnosis miscarriage.

It hurt to have the final answer. To know this really was the end, and we really had lost our baby. With a deep breath, and a brave face, I prepped for surgery. My mom gave me one last hug, they hooked up my IV, and wheeled me back to the operating room.

I remember being introduced to the nurses, and seeing the surgeon come in. They had me move from the rolling bed to the operating table, and got the IV medicine flowing. And then I was out.

I woke up after what felt like 5 minutes, back in the surgery center. It felt just like waking up from a really deep sleep. It was a little alarming, because I don't know how I got back on the rolling bed...or got the mesh underwear on...or anyone putting all the monitoring stickers on me. But I guess that's normal.

Much to my relief, I was not in any pain. None. My mom came back as I was waking up. We chatted for a bit, and I sipped on my Coke and nibbled on saltines until I felt steady again. Then I got dressed, and headed back home to my parents.

For anyone who is facing the same, please know that the anticipation and waiting for the D&C was a million times worse than the procedure. The process itself was fast, painless, and a relief to have over.

I'm now 3 days past the procedure. I hadn't had any pain. Hardly any bleeding. And I instantly felt better physically.

Granted, the emotional pain runs deep and will take longer to heal from. But the D&C is behind me, and for that I am grateful.