The Story: What happens next ~ First Miscarriage

The story continues.

The months passed. JR grew and we grew with her.

One day in the Fall of 2010, JR and I were spending a day like any other: enjoying each other’s company, laughing and playing. Then, I started to bleed. It was a surprise, no strike that, it was a shock. I was nursing and this was no time for my period to be returning. But it was not my period. It was heavier and scarier. I was on foot; Jeff had the car. But I needed to get to the doctor. I put JR in the stroller, called my dad to put him on back-up alert, and took the 20 minute walk over the Key Bridge to Georgetown to pick up the car. We made one stop on the way during which my fears worsened; I was bleeding uncontrollably and the pad was not keeping up with the flow. On our way to the doctor we stopped and picked up my had and ten minutes later we were sitting in the doctor’s office. Poor JR had had such an eventful morning that she fell asleep in her Jeddo's lap while I was being checked.

Weight. Pulse. Blood pressure. Urine sample. Pregnancy test. It was positive. I had been pregnant and now I am not. I was having a miscarriage. I was in total shock, I did not even know I was pregnant to start with. Tears came to my eyes, but I held them back. It was only later that the severity of the situation hit me; I had lost a child, what would have then been my second.

A quick backward glance later revealed that I should have suspected I was pregnant and that the doctor I saw at the time should have done a more thorough job examining me. I remember a random summer day when I felt nauseous, queasy and light-headed. I almost fainted. I called my OB who told me to call my PCP. The PCP ran a number of tests then attributed my condition to “fatigue.” The PCP ran tests on this and that, but failed to run a pregnancy test. I still wonder to this day if the outcome would have been different had he ran that one seemingly unnecessary test and found out the real culprit behind my dizziness.

This part of the story would also have had a better ending had it ended there. But the pregnancy did not want to terminate itself naturally and I had to be hospitalized for a D&C. I was so traumatized. I was nursing and was so worried about how the surgery was going to affect my supply. Luckily it did not.

That D&C was fortunately uneventful, as so far as a D&C can be. Shortly after the procedure, we were discharged and home we went. But our Thanksgiving celebration was brought to an end. We did not have a Thanksgiving that year. And since then, Thanksgiving has not had the same meaning of feeling. To some extent I have been avoiding it like the plague, finding ways and reasons not to be at home or by ourselves for it. Life went on as usual. And while JR’s presence brought immense happiness and joy, some sadness never left me. The OB tried to persuade me to give up nursing in order to sustain a second pregnancy but I would not have it. I continued to nurse and wear JR religiously. I may have done it with even more passion after the incident.

We carried on, until...