We had a date night on September 22nd. We decided we had some shopping to do so we headed to our nearest outlet mall. Shopping without a toddler is a wonderful thing. I bought a new maternity shirt, realizing that I didn't have enough for a full-time job. Before we left I used the ladies room and noticed some spotting. I told Q, we decided I would keep an eye on it but it was probably nothing to worry about. At the time I thought I was 8 weeks pregnant, but it turned out I was 10 weeks along. We hadn't told a lot of people (not even our moms), and had nicknamed the baby Hyfrydol (following in our use of hymn tunes for a name).
The next day there was more spotting, and I was a little concerned since I hadn't had that with Slane, so I called the clinic and they had me come in. Our doctor was out that day so we saw the doc who delivered Slane (well, was there anyway, the surgeon should really get the credit for delivery). Dr. W ordered an ultrasound and I went in Friday morning bright and early.
We saw the baby on the ultrasound, and commented on how it looked like a shrimp. As we sat in the waiting room watching the birds that we visited so often when I was in labor with Slane, I convinced myself that everything was okay.
Then Dr. W pulled us aside into a private room, and we knew the results were not good. Dr. W told us that there wasn't a heartbeat detected, and I would lose the baby. He gave me his cell number and told me to call him as things progressed.
Now, we had purposely not done anything to prevent this pregnancy, as we had waited the year we were told after a C-section, and I specifically wanted a baby to come in the late spring/early summer so I could spend more than 6 weeks with the little one. I only got two weeks of leave (and 5 days of that was in the hospital) with Slane and wanted more with this one. Hyfrydol was due April 23rd, the week of Easter, and I already had an argument why the C-section should be on the 20th, which will be my Grandpa's 90th birthday. We were very "if it happens, great, and if it doesn't, that's okay too" with this baby, and initially that was our shock protector.
Fortunately there weren't any students at school that day and my co-teacher did a wonderful job of distracting me and we sang songs all day and left early. Q had to officiate a game that night, so I was home alone with Slane and I was a wreck, so I put her in the stroller and went for a walk, hoping Slane's godparents were home and could help me out. They were home, and were having steak, and once I told them what was up they played with Slane and distracted me some more (thanks so much J and D). We spent the next day at home as a family, and I went out and bought a cheesecake (confort food).
I was feeling fine the next week, though I was bleeding more steadily, and had no idea when the actual miscarriage would happen. The people I immediately work with all knew in case I had to leave suddenly or did not show up at school. I did not tell my administrators, as they didn't even know I was pregnant. This week was a strange week. I remember that I had stopped taking prenatal vitamins, but technically was still pregnant so was careful about other stuff. It was like being in limbo. We went out for dinner one night that week and I had wine and felt so guilty. Being pregnant with a baby that is not alive, a baby that the doctor says "you just need to wait for the tissue to die as the body does not receive feedback from the baby."
Friday, October 1, I woke up not feeling great. I was crampy. I knew we had a sub shortage that day, and went to school. I had my toughest class first thing that day, and they were not doing well. I was not doing well. I remember wanting to be like, "I'm losing my baby, please be good to me today. I can't handle behavior issues today." But it didn't matter. They were awful. As soon as they left I knew I couldn't handle school. I needed to be away where I could worry about me and not much else. I spent the first half hour of my planning time in tears.
I went to the nurse first, but she was in a meeting. I went on to the office, and told the secretary that I needed to go home. Now. She said if I could find people to cover my classes I could go. There wasn't anyone to cover my classes as classes were already being covered for an hour at a time by other specialists. I went back to my room and sent two emails. The first I sent to the teachers whose classes I had later in the day, asking if they could please have the "be respectful" talk with their kids as I wasn't feeling well but couldn't go home. The second email went to my union rep, asking who I could file a complaint with in human resources.
While all of this was going on, Dan had called our pastor and she was praying about the situation, and I had a message from an old friend saying she was praying for comfort for me that day (she knew what was going on, C, you are the best!).
After the first two classes, I got a phone call from the associate principal telling me to go home and offering to send someone to help me to my car. Two minutes later my union rep came in and told me to go home. She said she had responded as soon as she was finished subbing for someone. I don't know what she said to the associate principal, but I will be forever thankful. I do know she had a meeting with the superintendent about this issue.
I went home and slept for a while and then headed over to pick up Slane from daycare, but the miscarriage started on the way. I was on campus looking for Q so he could tell me where the carseat car was parked, and bled through my jeans before I could make it to the car. I met one of our international students as I was looking for Q, and I appreciate that she helped me find him, as she could tell something was very wrong with me. I picked up Slane, and we hung out in the bathroom at home.
She was getting restless though, and I needed help, so I called Q whose acting director let him take a break from the registration table at family weekend so he could bring over one of our student babysitters (guess we hired them for a reason), and she hung out with Slane until Q could come home. By then the worst was over. I called in sick on Monday, and about a week later it was all over.
I've had a lot of thoughts about what has happened, and sometimes the littlest things make me cry. Like, last week I read in the minutes of some meeting at school how thankful the administration is that people are willing to reschedule medical stuff so they can be at school, or when the principal mentioned that we have to give people their planning time (two classes had to give up their planning time that day with barely any notice). I've appreciated the emails from the union saying that if we are sick, we need to say that we are sick and go home. It is not our responsibility to find a replacement. Too little, too late? and no apology.
Right now the hardest thing is seeing other people talking about their babies, having babies, or posting their ultrasounds on facebook. Last week, on October 15th, I learned about a support website (thanks cousin-in-law K), and that has been helpful. But the same day a dear cousin announced that his second baby would be due in May. I didn't handle that well. I am excited, but I can't say that yet.
I wish there was more out there about miscarriage, both to help others understand, but to help those of us who have gone through it realize that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, and that it happens to more people than we think or know. Why do we keep this a secret? Is it too awkward? If people knew, would they be more sensitive? Do we think that maybe if we share we will jinx someone else's pregnancy?
I tell people that I'm lucky. I have one healthy, happy child already. I hadn't been trying for years only to lose hope again, as some I've talked to have (and one acquaintance miscarried an in vitro pregnancy, which seems worse somehow). We will likely have more chances. But I still lost a baby.
The people who knew before this have been so nice. I appreciate the cards and emails and messages. I am thankful for the counseling session with our pastor. I am glad other family members have shared their experiences. I will always wonder what Hyfrydol would have been like.
