Here it goes: I just had my first miscarriage. I already have a child, a son. He’s almost two and he’s beautiful.
I feel like I’m supposed to say that it is “okay” to have just lost a pregnancy because I already have a child. That’s what other people keep telling me and I nod in agreement because it’s the polite thing to do. They’re just uncomfortable when faced with someone else’s tragedy and are (with good intentions) just trying to think of something nice to say.
But, it’s bullshit for me to say it is “okay”, because of course it isn’t “okay”. It sucks.
Before I get into the details of all that, I am going to write about what happened before the miscarriage: I got pregnant and had a perfectly healthy baby.
In early 2005 I proclaimed to my husband of less than one year that I was ready to procreate! Please, baby! Let’s swim without a life jacket! Let’s contribute to this overcrowded planet with a precious, sweet little version of you and I! We’d spent the past 5 years alone together and frankly I was ready to add a new personality to the mix.
I finally got him to agree to “trying without really trying” in Fall 2005. In April 2006, after 7 months of negative pregnancy tests and basal body temp taking and cervix checking, I went to my OB/GYN for a consult. Let me say that I LOVE my doctor, Dr. W. He’s amazing, with a wonderful, caring, understanding manor. While I mostly saw midwives during my pregnancy (by choice), he was the one who delivered my son and I hope that he will do the same for any future children I may have.
Dr. W humored my panic and desire to hurry things up, and prescribed me a low dose of Clomid. I took the first dose with my next period and my husband and I went at it furiously. I was convinced that I would get pregnant that month and was thus very frustrated when I got my period one Saturday morning.
I had been warned that a period after a round of Clomid would be intense, but OH MY GOD was it INTENSE. I spent much of that afternoon doubled over on the floor of our upstairs hallway with a heating pad across my lower back that my husband cautiously brought to me – sort of a drop and run maneuver to avoid my claws and screams of pain.
I was a COMPLETE BITCH for 3 days while dealing with the worst period of my life. Before I had my son I always had pretty painful periods, but that one period on Clomid was a beast the likes of which I’d never experienced before.
I was very pleasantly surprised to see that my doc was right and my periods are much lighter/shorter/less crampy/more regular after having a baby. I was always skeptical that would be true – many girlfriends told me the same thing – but it has been so, for me at least.
I think there are many women who will understand why, still clutching my heating pad and ibuprofen, I downed my next round of Clomid – twice the dose as the time before! I was either a glutton for punishment or a woman who really wanted to have a baby.
Two days after starting the round my husband received word that he would be taking a business trip to NJ the week I was due to ovulate. I was PISSED.
But, deciding that the entire month need not be wasted, we planned to have baby-making sex the morning before his flight (at about 3am, actually) and again 4 nights later when he returned.
I took the pregnancy test early on a Saturday morning in June 2006. I sat on the toilet in disbelief for about 5 minutes before I woke my husband up jumping on the bed (and sprayed him with droplets of urine from the preggo stick). We were PREGNANT!
I was expecting a baby to be due on President’s Day 2007. I had a fairly uneventful pregnancy, save a couple of tachycardia scares with his heartbeat (”Totally normal for baby boys to have high heartbeats!” Dr. W proclaimed) and an overnight stay in the hospital in my 7th month, right after Christmas, due to pre-term labor induced by severe dehydration.
I gave birth to my son, George, on February 20, 2007. He was only one day late, though technically he intended to be a couple of weeks early – I’d been having contractions as he pushed on my cervix from my 38th week on, but as it turns out he was too big and my labor never kicked in on it’s own. After being turned away several times a kind midwife took pity on me as I cried in her office after being told that I had just peed on myself and that my water had definitely NOT broken as I’d hoped.
She sent me on to the hospital with admittance orders and I was given Pitocin to encourage labor. I was definitely having contractions, though admittedly not unbearably painful ones, but even with Pitocin I never dilated past 2 cm.
After a group of nurses, my husband, my mother, and I watched an episode of American Idol, the midwife offered me a C-Section. I was nervous as hell, but decided that would be a good idea. I just wasn’t progressing and I was exhausted already.
Dr. W happened to be on that night and performed the delivery. I was shivering so hard from the epidural and anesthesia that most of what I remember is of my teeth chattering and my arms feeling numb as they lay straight out from my sides. My son was born healthy and loudly. He screamed and peed on the nurses like a good boy.
Dr. W told me as he stitched me up that we’d have been waiting for a long time if I’d try to go natural, as G’s head was stuck at my pelvis and it would’ve taken some work to dilate much more than I was. There was pretty much no way this 8lb baby with a huge noggin was getting through my tiny birth canal. I’m very relieved that I didn’t try pushing only to be disappointed and end up with a C-section anyway.
**I know there are people out there who know more about natural birth than I do who would say NO WAY to what I just said, but I’m personally very happy with the birth that I had with my son and I wouldn’t change a thing. If someone else would’ve done it differently, I respect that, but also respect my choice. Nuff said.
I’ve rambled on enough for a first post. If anyone’s listening, thanks! And I will post soon about my miscarriage.
