Nothing mattered anymore. Not food, friendships, loved ones, or even hygiene. My body and mind could only accomplish one thing; cry.
Being 3 months pregnant is so very exciting, especially when it’s your first baby. The birth announcement, shopping for cute little outfits and accessories. Your belly is slowing growing, not very noticeable at this point but you know that tiny miracle is inside you.
Your first ultrasound is an experience you will never forget. Those little fingers and toes wiggling and waving hello. That harmonious heart beat. Then bringing home that beautiful sonogram of your perfect baby to show to all your friends, family and loved ones.
Among all the bliss and euphoria you forget. Miscarriages are possible. It can happen to any woman during any pregnancy. We put it in the back of our minds and tell ourselves something like that would never happen to me. “I’m young, healthy, and taking my vitamins every day.”
The truth of the matter is you won’t see it coming. You don’t know how you will react until you actually experience this kind of loss. You will hold onto this pain forever. It gets easier but is like a faint scar that always reminds you, never take anything for granted.
I woke up in the morning feeling optimistic about the day that lay ahead of me. I was going to see my baby for the first time! Words can’t explain the excitement I felt going to the doctor that day. Accompanied by my boyfriend and mom I arrived at my ultrasound appointment.
This was my first sonogram and other than seeing my sisters done I was new to this whole experience. The technician asked me to come in alone, I got into a gown and we began. The tech put that lovely jelly on my stomach and started the procedure. She was quiet. Which at first was weird, but as I said this was my first ultrasound and did not know what to expect.
She then got up and said to me “one moment, I will be right back.” I laid there for about 15 minutes. She returned and told me they booked an appointment with my family doctor in the next town over for about an hour later. I was a little confused at this point, I didn’t receive any pictures and there was no updates given to me. I had a bad gut feeling.
So we got back in the car and drove to my family doctors’ clinic. This next part is very difficult for me to write let alone think about so forgive me if it’s hard to understand. I sat down in my doctors office, there was a strange uncomfortable atmosphere in the room.
Due to PTSD symptoms I cannot completely remember how my doctor said these words.
“Gabrielle, I’m sorry. We brought you here today to let you know your baby did not have a heartbeat during your sonogram.” A wave of devastation, denial, anger, and sheer heartbreak washed over me. “No” I said. “Check again…. please!”
My doctor shook his head, he told me that when a technician does not hear a heartbeat it’s a 99% correct assumption there’s no life. He began educating me about something called a “D&C”. It’s a brief surgical procedure in which the cervix is dilated and a special instrument is used to scrape the uterine lining. You are put to sleep for this thankfully.
I was booked an appointment for surgery, prescribed lorazepam, therapy and sent home. I remember thinking how am I going to tell the people I love and who are excited for me. I didn’t want pity, or attention, I actually didn’t even want to tell anyone. I wanted my baby. I believe it was my mom and boyfriend who broke the news to family members and friends.
My boyfriend was affected deeply by this, he is a strong man though and exactly what I needed during that time. He cried with me, he let me cry in his arms for days on end, he lost his child that day too. He was by my side during the D&C and offered the best possible support he could. Even though he was hurting too…
I want to state that before I went in for my D&C I got the doctor who was doing the surgery check for a heartbeat one last time. I needed confirmation. There was nothing, my heart broke again feeling just as freshly painful as the first time.
After my surgery, I got home and my bed was the only place I wanted to be. To cry was the only thing I wanted to do. There was nothing, I had nothing left to give. It was the worse depression I ever fell into, countless spurts of uncontrollable sadness, and many sleepless nights. I cried constantly, and didn’t leave my bed for about 3 weeks.
As if all this wasn’t enough, at a follow up appointment I was told that my D&C revealed I had a “partial molar pregnancy.” I know, you’re confused, so was I. In a normal pregnancy, the fertilized egg has 23 chromosomes from the mother and 23 chromosomes from the father, making a total of 46. In a partial molar pregnancy the wrong number of chromosomes come together, and there are abnormalities in the cells that grow to form the placenta.
I had to give urine and blood samples for 6 months after my operation to make sure my hCG levels were decreasing. If they didn’t that would indicate there was still molar tissue left over that could spread to the rest of my organs, which for lack of a better term is BAD. Lucky for me my hCG levels went down and I got better.
Today I am the mother of one beautiful 2 year girl. She is my savior, my light, my happiness, and my reason to live. My rainbow baby as society would describe her; A child born after a miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death or infant loss. Everything happens for a reason, to make us stronger, to teach us, and to humble us. Remember all storms come to an end, and there’s usually a rainbow waiting for you afterward !!
I was so excited counting down the days until I could announce to all my friends that we were expecting our first child.. We had already told our parents, we gave them all Christmas cards that said “Grandparent” on them!
I remember the day like it was yesterday January 11th 2014. A normal day at the factory, 4:30-1am. I went to the washroom around 12am.. And that’s when it all started. When I saw blood I knew I had to go get checked out. I waited until the end of my shift and made my way up to the hospital.
They brought me into the room and brought out the ultrasound machine. After searching for what felt like forever, they told me they could not see clear enough with the machine they had in emerge. They would need to set up an ultrasound through imaging to get a more accurate answer for me as it was still so early, along with many blood tests.
That was the beginning of the waiting game.
I went to my ultrasound the next day, and would not get any answers until later that day at my family doctor appointment. At my appointment my doctor told me based on the ultrasound unfortunately that I had a miscarriage. I had no words to say. He set me up for an appointment with a gynecologist.
When I went for my appointment with the gynecologist her words sent my mind in a spinning motion. She told me “based on your hCG levels from your blood work, they are still rising and there is still a chance you haven’t miscarried” .. What? How is it possible? For one doctor to tell me my pregnancy is over, and for the next to bring my hopes right back up again. How was this fair?
After several blood tests monitoring my levels the gynecologist finally came to the decision that I had miscarried. Bringing me right back to where I was with my family doctor. At a loss for words. Following that I was scheduled for a D&C and back to work a few days later. Most people don’t even know it happened and sometimes I don’t know if it was better that way or not.
I was lucky enough to get pregnant again 2 short months later, with a little boy who is 2 years old now. And have recently had a little girl who is 2 months old.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through but I’m stronger now, I go on each day staying positive but it’s always there. I will always wonder if it was a sweet little girl or a cute little boy. I may never know, but that little baby will always be in my heart.