The first time I learned that I was pregnant with my first born Peewee, I shed tears of happiness. I was so happy that my doctor cried with me in delight. I love being pregnant. The thought of bringing life into this world brings joy to my heart.
So when I learned that I was pregnant for the second time around on Christmas day 2011, I shed tears of happiness again. But it was SO much more than that. Happy tears fell because of a couple of reasons. First, I wanted this new life to come into our lives so badly since Peewee was 2 years old. I wanted to have children who are 2-3 years apart so that they’ll play and grow together. A tandem of sorts. I also wanted to have children while I am still relatively young. I’m in my 30s and I want to be able to run free and play with my children as long as it is physically possible. Yes I am aware of medical advancements in child bearing aspect but I don’t want to go through that road. And besides, I don’t want to be 60 and still have a preschooler. Another reason of my happiness is that its gift for my husband John. He has been a good father and role model to my son and he deserves another one for him to love and carry around. :)
The second pregnancy was really tough on me. I got a new job, new responsibilities and new tasks to think about on top of activities for Peewee in school and therapy. In spite of that, I went through the morning sickness with a breeze. Ate healthier meals and took some time to rest as much as I can. The first ultrasound I had was to check the development of the embryo – its gestational age. They had to adjust my LMP (Last Menstrual Period) because it didn’t coincide with the gestational age. After two weeks, I was five weeks pregnant. :)
Knowing I had gestational diabetes during my first pregnancy, my OB was very keen on me health wise. She had me on dietary monitor and had me consult with a handful of doctors. I tried to diligently take my meds and follow a strict diet. I was only allowed to gain a pound a month. I get nervous every time I was due for a monthly prenatal check up. The second monthly checkup we heard the heartbeat. John was with me and I saw the happiness in his face when he heard the heartbeat. Pretty exciting times.
February was a happy and toxic time for us. During the love month, John and I celebrate our wedding anniversary and Peewee’s birthday. And in between, there’s therapy and school activities. And this month, Peewee got sick that we had to rush him to the hospital due to high fever. A very stressful time that I do want to forget. And not a good time to be pregnant at that. Having a child who gets seizures every time he has high fever doesn’t grow old with me. I still feel that its the first time. Very scary time.
March came and every thing went by smoothly. I was on track and feeling much better. I was entering my second trimester. However, during this month people have been noticing that my tummy wasn’t growing. I often say that I begin growing by the last trimester which was true with my first pregnancy. My next prenatal check up was on April 11.
Oh April 11. My heart sank to the deepest part of the earth. A day I will never forget. During this routine check up, the OB put the doppler on my tummy and heard nothing. Nothing. No heart beat. She then used her portable ultrasound to check and measured the fetus. Made some calculations and saw the worry in her face. She had me go to ultrasound to confirm. While waiting to be called for the ultrasound, I prayed. I prayed to God to give me strength to face whatever will happen. Prayed to God for strength to accept. Accept my fate. Accept my fate and carry on. Carry on and know that there is a silver lining. When I was called, I told John he should come with me inside the examination room. I told him I will not go inside the room alone. I needed him there to give me strength. He did. And asserted that he’s the husband and he’s a doctor. I didn’t had the strength to look at the monitor. Only John and the OB sonologist knew how it looked. It was confirmed. Only 13 weeks. I cried my heart out as soon as the sonologist left the room. Sobbed. Cried some more before I left the room with John holding my hand. I have been carrying the fetus for six weeks – lifeless.
After confirming, I ran to Peewee and hugged him. Hugged him tightly and said my apology. I said “Peewee, sorry for not giving you a playmate.” Held his hand and we went to get ice cream. We had to got back to the OB to prepare for the next process. The OB wanted a spontaneous passing out to preserve the integrity of the uterus. This would mean that they have to induce labor and I have to give “birth” to the fetus. When I heard this I wanted to be done right away. But my OB suggested to process the loss first before going through the procedure.
The drive home was numbing. And as soon as I stepped inside the house, I cried. Cried with John. Tried to sleep and felt nothing. Asked myself what I did wrong and what I didn’t do. Felt dirty knowing that there’s something dead inside me. For six weeks. A month and a half. I wanted this baby so badly. I wanted it for John. I wanted it for Peewee. I felt so useless. The hardest part was telling our parents. Everybody was devastated. I let John tell my mom about the news. I heard she cried. And I couldn’t bear the sound of my mom sobbing. It feels like I failed her.
We had scheduled the procedure that Friday, April 13th. They put a gel/ointment in my cervix to induce labor. And this was done every six hours. I began passing out blood Saturday morning and wheeled me to the labor room. At the labor room, I was given some hard core pain killers that it put me to sleep after 5 minutes. Woke around 10 am and I was bleeding heavily. I was allowed to eat a light lunch while waiting for the passing out. While waiting I prayed to God. By 1pm I felt nothing was happening and set a time that when nothing happens by 4pm, I want to be in my room with John. By 3pm I had this urge to push. So I pushed three times and called the nurse. I told the nurse to check but asked her not to tell me anything. When she checked, she called one of the OB residents. The nurse came back with a bin and covered it up. I told the staff that I do not want to see it. Because I want to “remember” it with happy thoughts. The nursed also asked me if we want to keep the fetus. I said no but I wanted it to be blessed with Holy Water which they obliged. During my time alone, I felt God’s presence every step of the way.
I am now at home and healing – physically and emotionally. I don’t know if I still want to have more children after this ordeal. Thank God that my husband know what I am going through and he said that he would wait for me to be ready. Ready to give it another try to be have more kids. My miscarriage made me appreciate my husband more. He was my rock during this misfortune. It made me grateful knowing I married the right guy for me.