Friday, May 23, 2014
A week before Mother’s Day, I had a natural miscarriage that occurred when I should have been 10 weeks and 3 days pregnant. The previous week Daniel and I had gone to my first OB appointment and learned that while my body was 9 weeks pregnant, a baby had never formed. The ultrasound showed only a yolk sac and my doctor called it a blighted ovum. She emphasized that sometimes these things just happen and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. She also said that it was unlikely to happen again.
Daniel and I left the doctor numb. Bummed is the only way I can really describe how I felt at the time. We had a lovely steak dinner at Hennen’s in downtown Chattanooga – what should have been a celebration. We were mostly quiet. We walked to Ben & Jerry’s for ice cream and then down to the river to sit together. It was the first date we had had in forever. And we were bummed.
We opted to do some additional testing to confirm my diagnosis. I needed that extra week to research, hope and come to terms with what was happening. I prayed a lot for peace. After some additional blood work, my doctor called and confirmed the diagnosis, again. I wanted to have one more ultrasound before I decided anything further. But in my heart I knew there was no baby.
The following Sunday I stayed home from church. I didn’t feel right. Daniel brought lunch home and shortly after eating, my miscarriage started. I won’t go into details, but it was quite painful and I am thankful we had some lortab on hand. I don’t know if I would have made it through the afternoon without those narcotics. Five hours later it was over.
Miscarriage is probably the loneliest, most difficult experience I have had. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
The week after my miscarriage, I stayed home and watched lots of TV with Jack. Mostly we watched The Lorax – over and over again. I didn’t cook, I didn’t clean, I didn’t do much of anything. Then Jack came down with a fever and I panicked that something terrible was happening to him. I hauled him to the doctor and 24 hours later he was fine.
The Saturday before Mother’s Day, we took Jack to ride on Thomas the Train. We had purchased the tickets in advance and it turned out to be a good distraction for me. On Mother’s Day I slept in and we spent the afternoon biking. I just needed to be with my family and surrounded by nature.
The Monday after Mother’s Day, I made myself go to the body pump class at the Y – I needed a hard workout. Tuesday I went back to the Y and pushed hard through a Boot Camp class. It felt good to be active after a two-week hiatus.
During Boot Camp, while taking my 60-second turn to kick a punching bag to my heart’s content, I looked around the gym and it dawned on me that everyone has had difficult experiences. There is a girl that takes the same classes that I do who happens to be an amputee. Someone else in the class had a hysterectomy earlier this year, and an older gentleman who comes recently had his gall bladder removed. In addition, about a month ago our instructor lost her father unexpectedly. My point is that at some point in our lives, every one of us is going to go through difficult experiences. Our things may not be as obvious (or hard) as an amputated leg or as lonely as a miscarriage, but we will all carry some degree of pain and suffering with us. It’s just a part of the human experience.
A week after my miscarriage, it all began to feel like a bad dream. Two weeks later it is becoming a bad memory – one that I’m thankful is already fading. I know that this probably won’t be the last hard experience I have, but for now I am grateful for the peace that has blanketed me and that there is hope for the future.
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