Living Through the Heartbreak

I was inspired to start writing, I just didn’t know where to start, so I chose a subject very close to my heart.

It was a chilly day in October, 2010.  I had finally gotten the chance to move in with my husband after being married for a year. We had our six month old daughter, Madison, and we were excited to finally be a family after a year apart. I realized I was due to have my period soon, so I looked on my app, and I realized I was late. We were tight on cash from moving and everything we needed for our apartment, so I told him to take me to the dollar tree, where the pregnancy tests are only .98¢.  He told me that I probably wasn’t pregnant, but he took me anyway. We got home and took the test, and sure enough two pink lines. I immediately called my mom and I started crying. No way were we ready for  another child, Madison was only six months old. My mom assured me that everything would be okay and everything would work out, and most importantly, every child is a miracle.

My doctors office won’t bring you in for your first appointment until you are eight weeks along, but I made the appointment and waited it out. Finally the day had come and they decided to give me an ultrasound to determine how far along I really was. Eight weeks and three days with a beautiful and strong heartbeat. I fell in love almost instantly. We scheduled our appointment to come back in four weeks and we left. Once home, I started taking weekly “bump” pictures, I watched what I ate and took my vitamins. It was really sinking in that I was going to have another baby, and I couldn’t be  more thrilled. The weeks between my first appointment and my second were really easy. No “morning sickness” and only occasionally I had heartburn. The only thing I remember was that the smell of cooking meat really made me want to puke.

Finally, twelve weeks and three days. I got ready for my appointment and headed out the door. My doctor decided to try to find the heartbeat using his doppler. When he couldn’t find it, I wasn’t too worried because most doctors don’t even try until thirteen or fourteen weeks. I just looked over at Michael, who looked confused, and told him it was ok. My doctor didn’t think it was, so he pulled the portable ultrasound machine into my room. It took him a while to figure out how to even turn it on. When he finally got it, he put the gel on my stomach and started to look. He looked for quite a while and said he couldn’t see a heartbeat, but he was going to send me over to the actual ultrasound room so the tech could look. I remember looking  Michael, knowing what the outcome of this appointment would be.

We went over to the ultrasound room, and I laid down on the bed. She put the gel on, and put the wand on my stomach. The first thing I saw was a tiny little face, so sweet, so innocent. She quickly moved the wand to look for the heart. She zoned in on the heart and waited. There was absolutely nothing. She tried it again, still nothing. She measured the baby, and he measured to be ten weeks and three days. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. I knew. We went back into my room and waited for my doctor.

When  my doctor showed up, he said that I had what was called a “missed miscarriage“, which basically means my body didn’t know the baby had passed, so it didn’t start the miscarriage process. He told me that I would need surgery to remove the fetus, and asked me when it would be best for me. I asked him if he could schedule it for the next week so that Michael could have enough time to let his command know that he would need to take some time off work. He said no, that since the baby had passed two weeks ago, I was at a huge risk for infection so I needed to have the surgery the next day, and that I wouldn’t be allowed to drive myself. I asked him to explain the surgery to me, and what he explained was the abortion procedure. I will forever regret asking him to explain it to me. We made the appointment at the surgery center and went home.

I kept thinking that it wasn’t true, and that it couldn’t be happening. Not to me. I had to find a babysitter for Madison, and since we didn’t know anyone here, we called family, even though they live three hours away. No one seemed to be answering their phone. Mom, dad, my sister, my grandma, and my uncle. None of them answered. His family couldn’t come up. I finally got in touch with my other grandma and asked her to try to get in touch with my parents, and I explained everything to her. She volunteered to drive my mom up, so I was able to have my mom up here.

My mom and grandma showed up right on time. Michael and I left and headed off to the surgery center. We had to be there a couple hours early so they could get me registered and into preop and my gown. We got everything ready, I just had to wait for my doctor to come. Finally he showed up and asked me if I was ready. Well, I was as ready as I ever would be, which wasn’t at all. They wheeled me back to the operating room, and told me to lay on the table. They said they were going to start hooking me up to my machines. The next thing I remember, I was waking up in recovery. I asked for crackers and sprite (since I wasn’t able to eat before the surgery) and I asked how it went. Michael came up and sat in recovery with me until I finished my fluids. Once my fluids were finished they sent us home. I wasn’t allowed to do hardly anything, and I felt empty.

Now, all my medical records say that I had an abortion, and I hate it. I didn’t have an abortion. If I had a choice on whether or not I wanted to keep my pregnancy, I would have.   My doctor refused to do any testing to see why the baby had passed, but said the baby probably had a heart defect.

We didn’t know if it was a boy or  girl, but we thought it was a boy, so we named him Damion Scott. I have three children, one just gained his wings.

“An angel in the book of life wrote down my baby’s birth, then whispered as she closed the book `too beautiful for earth`” -Author Unknown


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