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The emotions felt when we found out I was pregnant are something I've written about previously, before my loss. I won't go back into them now, but they do exist in a tangible place outside of my mind. We were completely thrilled and overjoyed, to put it very simply.
I started spotting the day after my positive test, and despite my best efforts not to worry, I worried. How could I not? The spotting started on a monday and by saturday evening I was in a substantial amount of pain and the bleeding was changing colors. Red, fresh blood. J made me take it easy that evening and did everything he could to make me comfortable. Backrubs, warm compresses, encouraging words, you name it. Around 11PM he suggested a warm bath and some music, for the relaxation if anything. He ran the water and I humored him, though I really didn't feel like moving. Afterwards, I went to use the restroom and well, there it was... Tissue. At this point, I knew what I'd already known; I screamed. Despite all the mental preparation I'd done, I was still in shock. J's face was nearly translucent and before I knew it his shoes were on and he was hurling my clothes at me. We were going to the ER, he said. I begged and pleaded not to go. I knew what was happening and I knew they could not stop it. I didn't have insurance and I knew the last thing we needed was a medical bill. "It's for your peace of mind," he said. In his mind, I think he really thought our baby was fine. I feebily tried to argue one last time, but I knew it was futile.
I got dressed and called my Mom. She'd been checking in all evening and I wanted to let her know we were going. It was midnight by this point and raining out. The entire car ride I tried to brace J for the news I knew we'd get. "I know you want everything to be okay, and I do, too... but we both need to be prepared for the fact that everything might not be, okay?" Again, he shook his head. "Our baby is fine, you'll see, " and he squeezed my hand.
Once we arrived at the ER, our butts had no sooner touched the seats when they called me back for vitals. Shortly after that, we were in a room and I was in a dreaded hospital gown. We watched TV and I tried to remain upbeat. Half an hour or so later, the doctor came in and idly poked and prodded on my tummy before disappearing again. A few minutes later, a nurse came in and informed me that the doctor wanted me to have a straight catheter done for a urine sample, blood drawn, and an IV of fluids put in place. First of all, I hate needles. Secondly, a catheter?! Regardless of how much I didn't want it all to happen, it did. I tried to tell myself all of this wouldn't be for nothing and it would pay off, maybe our baby was fine after all. I was making deals with myself at this point. Hours went by and by 2:30AM I was nodding off. Sometimes I'd open my eyes and J would be sitting there, visibly exhausted but still vigilant and strong. He never complained in the slightest, just held my hand and rubbed my back and eventually I fell completely asleep. At 4AM the doctor came in to give us the news. J gently shook me a few times, and no sooner than my eyes flicked open did I have a doctor in my face. "Your blood levels came back, your HCG is at a 37. At 6 weeks you should be 7,000 at the very least. Unless your calculations are off, you are definitely miscarrying. I've prescribed you some prenatal vitamins tha-" At this point, I cut him off; I was angry. How dare he come in here and tell me I'm losing my baby so matter-of-factly? He could have at least waited until I was fully awake to start spewing his words. "If I'm losing my baby, why would you prescribe me prenatals," I asked in a snarky tone. "Well, because regardless of how viable the pregnancy is, it still takes a lot out of your body and you'll need to replace these things to keep your body balanced and to help you get pregnant again." I simply nodded, I knew if I opened my mouth I'd begin to sob. He walked out and I sat up in the bed, looking over at J. He looked like he'd been hit by a truck, and for this very reason I avoided looking at him. I didn't want to cry, not there. I got angry that no one was showing up with my discharge papers immediately. My baby was gone and I just wanted to be back at home. I wanted to cry and scream and kick. I was 5 seconds away from removing the IV myself and getting dressed when the nurse came in. She had no idea what my levels were, and I can only assume that she could tell how upset we were by the looks on our faces because she said, "Oh, what's wrong? It's okay." I shook my head and just started bawling. I was discharged with a "threatened miscarriage", so I guess she thought we still had a chance. She tried to console us both. I'm thankful for her, she made the whole experience much better than that heartless doctor.
We walked out and I nearly sprinted to the car. I knew once I was there I was safe, I could really cry. No sooner than my door had shut did the tears and screams come. I'm sure anyone in that parking garage could have heard me, but I didn't care. The car ride home was hard. Neither of us knew what to say to each other and in those first few minutes I was irrationally angry at J. How dare he tell me everything was fine? It obviously wasn't. Obviously this rationale was silly, but I was hormonal and my heart was shattered and blame came easily.
Once we got home I sat down on the couch in a daze and J took his seat next to me. I told him to go to bed, that I'd be fine. It was 5AM and he needed to sleep. He refused to go to bed, he wasn't leaving me. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I got up and agreed to go lay down. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead and I buried my face in his chest and the tears came again, only this time they weren't so angry. I screamed out unintelligible half-sentences and heaved and bawled for a good twenty minutes before I had nothing left to give. J tried to console me and mentioned that we could try again. Try again? This was the third time I'd heard that tonight. How could I even think about that? I never wanted to be pregnant again. I never wanted to feel this pain again in my whole entire life, I just couldn't bear it.
When I woke up I'd hoped it was all just a really bad dream. It wasn't. The discharge papers sat on the table next to my laptop, a painful reminder I wished I hadn't brought inside. I went into that hospital with the tiniest shred of hope and came out completely crushed with a hopsital bill headed my way to boot. The following weeks were hard. The follow up appointments came, the first of which giving me yet another false sliver of hope. My urine test was still positive almost two weeks later, maybe I didn't miscarry after all! A blood test was taken that day and when I got the results the next day the loss was confirmed. Almost a month exactly after my miscarriage I went for another follow up, this time with my OB-GYN where I received my first ultrasound. It seemed a little cruel, really. Sitting in that office with pregnant women, getting my first ultrasound not to confirm I had a beautiful baby, but to confirm that all traces of my baby were gone from my womb forever.
Losing our first baby taught us valuable lessons and changed us in many ways, all for the better. Seeing the love J had for that little bean was indescribable, he really is the wonderful Dad I always knew he would be.
We'll catch a rainbow someday.
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