Many young mothers go through this, but not
enough of us can talk about it. I hope that sharing my experience will help
someone feel like they are not alone.
I honestly thought something like this could
not happen to me. It might sound cliché, but I figured that being young and
healthy gave me a lower risk of miscarriage. The unfortunate truth is that one
in five pregnancies end in miscarriage and it can happen to anyone.
When you see people go through it on television
it's different, almost glamorized, when compared to the crushing reality
of true pain. The actress might spend a few hours, or maybe the night in the bathroom,
withering in pain, but in the next scene they have gone on to cope emotionally
with lots of support from their loved ones. Because everyone has a different
experience, this may have been the case for some women, but it was not the case
for me.
I never suspected that I was pregnant in the
first place. I had missed a period, but since I had recently stopped
breastfeeding Nico, I dismissed it as a sign that my body was trying to get
back to normal. It wasn't until a few days of morning sickness that it occurred
to me to take a home test. Three tests later, we were sure that I was pregnant,
again. I was having mini panic attacks; Nico was still in diapers, he did not
know how to talk, Pedro was working a second job with his father, and we were
trying to save money to move. My family was not ready for a second baby. For a
while I remember thinking that I did not want to be pregnant. I know that this
was not my fault in any way, and that I didn't do anything to deserve it, but
now I understand the saying, be careful what you wish for.
When I started bleeding on Wednesday night, I
was afraid that something might be wrong, but I was not feeling pain. Everyone
told me that a miscarriage included intense cramps, so I assumed that it was a
strange part of this pregnancy. On Thursday it seemed like the bleeding was
getting worse, and I was still getting sick in the mornings so I decided to
pack up Nico and walk to the local medical center, a short distance from our
apartment. The doctor did an extremely uncomfortable pelvic exam and
a pregnancy blood test that came back positive a few hours later. He told me that he was
going to call an ambulance to have me transferred to a hospital that had an
emergency room especially for pregnant women.
In my mind, it was all so
unnecessary. Pedro had to come home from work early to be with Nico at the
hospital and I had to undergo a series of uncomfortable tests, all for what? I
still was not in pain, all I wanted to know was if the baby was okay or not.
The maternity emergency room was overflowing with women who looked much worse
off than me. After waiting for almost six hours and not being seen by the on call gynecologist, I told the
doctor and nurses that I was going home. They insisted that I come back
immediately upon feeling more bleeding or pain which I promised I would.
That night, when we returned from the hospital,
I began to feel it.
At first it was mild, but soon it was strong enough to
literally knock me off my feet. I felt like there was a parasite inside me
trying to tear its way out by ripping me apart one organ at a time. I couldn't
focus on anything else, I was drenched with sweat from head to toe, I
thought I was going to die. Somehow I managed to fall in and out of sleep that
night. The next morning was a little better, but not by much. I was hurting so badly that I could not stand up straight. I threw up several times; I was
shaking from pain and fear. I spent Friday between the bathroom, and my bed and
heating pad.
On Saturday, I was sitting in the shower,
letting the water rush over me like a massage blanket of warmth, when the reality of my situation hit me.
Pedro was doing a wonderful job holding down the title of Super Dad, but I felt
completely useless. After having all this pride in my accomplishments as a KUL Mom, suddenly I couldn't go to work, I couldn't take care of Nico, I
couldn't cook, or clean; the overpowering guilt was almost as bad as the stomach cramps.
I cried for a long time, wondering why I was still feeling bad.
I finally started to pray. Not that I had not
been doing so before, but recently, my prayers had become more like half-hearted cries of
anguish than conversations with my creator. I decided to thank God for the good things in my life,
and for the things that were happening that I could not understand. I thanked
Him for the brief moments of relief that I would feel throughout the day, for
Pedro (who was doing everything in his power to take care of me and everything else), for the people at church who were praying for me, and for my perfect
little Nico. Needless to say, I made it through the rest of the day.
Later that night we went back to the emergency
room where there were much less women. In fives hours, they had examined me, and
confirmed that my uterus was empty and that I had likely expelled the fetus
during a spell of painful bleeding.
A lot of people wrongfully assume that just
because a mother is young, she would be happy if an unexpected pregnancy
ended in a miscarriage. They think that she will be grateful, or relieved, but
that was not my experience.
I felt no feelings of joy, or giddiness.
A lot of people wrongfully assume that every
woman who goes through a miscarriage will be overcome with depression and
guilt. They think that she will be convinced that it was her fault, or that she
will never want to try for another baby again, but that was not my experience.
I felt no feelings of great sadness.
I felt humbled, and more than anything, I felt
like God was in control.
There is not a certain way we are supposed to
react to losing a baby. There is no book that explains what you are going to go
through and what emotions you should be feeling. Many people might tell you
that you "dodged a bullet" or that "that child will never get
the chance to be alive."
I just want to be clear. No one is allowed to
judge you for what is in your heart.
