Our Journey to Parenthood, Part 2

The D&C

Please read part one here.

Almost three weeks after when I initially thought I had miscarried I started bleeding heavily. I chalked this up to my first period after my miscarriage and went about my days. Summer school had been in full swing for a few weeks and I had been going at 110% for my kiddos. I absolutely loved my job at the time and was thankful for the ability to break from my pain. I endured two days of heavy bleeding before the cramping began. At the time, I believed what I was experiencing was heavy and intense cramping. After laboring with my daughter, I would now describe the cramping as contractions. I went through one day of this intense cramping/contracting while working and a few coworkers stopped me to ask if I was ok because for every one I had to pause to breathe through it.

Looking back on this experience, after having my daughter it’s unbelievable how everything was so similar to my labor with her. The cramps were regular, a few minutes apart from each other and getting more intense as time went on. I made it through a day and a half of these pains. John and I were attempting to go to bed on July 10th, 2019 when it became unbearable. I couldn’t sleep, there was no comfortable position to lay in and every couple of minutes I was writhing and crying out in pain. John insisted we go to the hospital and I thought at first that it was a complete overreaction. I thought to myself, “Women experience intense cramping with their periods all the time, I should be able to handle this.” He convinced me and we made the drive across town to the ER. 

We arrived at the ER and I explained what was happening. “I’m bleeding heavily, I have intense cramping, I thought I had miscarried.” To my surprise we were triaged pretty quickly. Quick is relative when you’re writhing in pain. They took some blood samples, placed an IV and gave me fentanyl for the pain. We had to wait for the on call ER doctor to do a pelvic exam and then we waited again to be taken for an ultrasound. I had no idea at this point what was happening to me. I legitimately thought, “Maybe I’m dying.” 

The ultrasound room, a different one than the OB/GYN clinic was small and dark and the lights were flickering. It honestly felt like we were in a scene from a horror movie. It was just the middle of the night at the hospital. The technician performed the ultrasound and I remember asking her and tearing up “There’s no baby, right?” She replied saying, “No, there’s no baby.” That interaction broke my heart.

After our ultrasound we were admitted and the on call OB came in to tell us they would perform a D&C in the morning. We were set up in a room for the night. John got situated on this chair that pulled out into a bed and we tried to sleep. I think John actually slept. I did not. I was still in a lot of pain. I scrolled through social media on  my phone and texted some friends asking them to pray for us. I googled “D&C” because I had never heard of it. A D&C is short for dilation and curettage, its a procedure done under general anesthesia to clear the uterine lining after miscarriage or abortion. 

The surgery was not officially scheduled until the morning and was ultimately set for around lunch time. I was in so much pain I had no recognition of the fact that I had not eaten breakfast and would not eat lunch. I was on a no food before surgery diet. I told John to get breakfast from the cafeteria, but I had him bring it back to the room because I didn’t want to be alone. They carefully watched my fluid intake and output via IV. This was one of the worst parts. I hated not being able to drink water and I felt very dehydrated for a few days afterwards. I don’t think that aided in my recovery at all. 

For the most part, pre-op and surgery went well. I believe I woke up before they intended me too, but everything had been finished and they were wheeling me to post-op. I just remember someone saying “Oh, she’s waking,” in a kind of surprised voice, then they poked me with a needle in the top of my foot. I immediately asked for John. Someone went to get him. During the surgery, he was able to go home to grab a few things that we needed, but for the most part he stayed in the waiting room. We left our apartment not knowing that we’d be spending the night and I desperately needed a change of clothes and my phone was basically dead. I cried a lot in post op. I remember thinking, “it’s officially over, there is no chance I am still pregnant.” It was incredibly sad. I guess up until going into the hospital I still had some hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe this was all just a very rocky start to a pregnancy that would end with a baby in my arms.

Physically, recovery was short. I took it easy for a few days, but ultimately we resumed our regular life. I had bruises on my hands and feet from the IV’s that were fading reminders of our experience. The bleeding from the D&C stopped after about three days. I was no longer in physical pain immediately following the surgery.

Marla, my mother-in-law, met us at our apartment that afternoon/evening after we were discharged from the hospital. She was so kind to clean up a little and make sure we had everything we needed. My sister came the following day to just sit with me. That was incredibly needed. I think we watched Charmed (in case you were wondering Charmed is definitely my favorite TV show). The following evening was a Friday and we made it to our church small group. It was then that we began sharing our experience with our friends. To have the support of our friends from church was so needed, I knew that they would be praying for us during recovery and moving forward in our journey. 

The emotional recovery took much longer. It was hard to get out of bed, to get dressed, to clean and cook. I spent most of the rest of the summer on the couch. I sobbed at anything related to babies. I specifically chose to watch Charmed not only because it was comforting but also because I knew exactly which episodes to skip if there was mention of pregnancy or babies. Summer school was over, so in reality I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything so I didn’t. I excluded myself from friends in town. I constantly lived in my sorrow. At first, I was grieving, but I think at some point my grief shifted into depression.

In the weeks following the hospital stay and the D&C, we started receiving our bills. The bills were to be expected, the amount that we owed was not expected. In total, after insurance our bills claimed that we owed the hospital about $9,000. This number did not sit right with us. We began to question it through our insurance and the hospital. We didn’t want to pay anything without sorting through it, so they just kept sending more and more bills. It was a constant heart wrenching reminder of what we went through, and what we were trying to move on from. It was excruciatingly painful every time we opened the mail box to an envelope with the blue and green logo of our hospital. A painful reminder of the worst day of our lives. 

After a few weeks of thinking we may have to blow through our savings to pay for the loss of our child, our insurance discovered they had made a mistake. They had only run one of two bills through their system. After rectifying their mistake the new bills began showing up, still painfully reminding us of our loss. The grand total for having a miscarriage with a D&C was about ~$1200. Medical care in this country needs some serious reform. I know of women I follow on social media who have large sums of debt to pay after their own miscarriages. 

The days leading up to the D&C and the procedure itself was horrible. The constant reminder of that horrible day was traumatic. I had constant flashbacks, increasing anxiety and grief that shifted into depression. At times it feels as if our babies never existed because there is nothing physical for us to hold on to. I wish I had asked for an ultrasound picture from our first appointment. I have my hospital bracelet from the D&C, but I hate remembering that day. John and I have been thinking about ways to have a physical reminder of our two children in heaven, if anyone has ideas let us know.

This part of our story feels like an end. It’s not. This story is ongoing with more parts to come.