It's amazing how an ordinary Wednesday can start off as just a normal day and quickly change to one that will likely alter your life forever. Four weeks ago today, my Wednesday started as a day I was looking forward to. I was meeting my new ob-gyn for my 12-week follow-up appointment for my first pregnancy. I was expecting to get some tips and advice as I headed into the 2nd trimester, and hopefully a cute ultrasound picture showing my baby's sweet little toes and fingers. I never expected to hear the words, "I am so sorry Jeannie, we can't find a heartbeat."
As I laid on the doctor's table on that cold January day, I felt a little piece of me dying, both literally and figuratively. I was told the baby had likely passed away a few weeks earlier, but my body, seemingly unable to let go, was going to have to have surgery the next day to remove my son or daughter.
The next day, I had a D&C procedure, which is when doctors put a woman under anesthesia, widen the cervix and scrape out the contents of the uterine lining. After speaking with my doctor, I felt like this was the best treatment for both my physical and emotional health.
It's still hard to believe that within 24 hours, I went from thinking I was going to be a mom by the end of July, to then having surgery and coming home to sleep, cry and bleed for the next few days. I felt sad, angry, depressed, and most of all, worried that I did something wrong.
Almost immediately, I decided I have to write about this. Even though I've discovered just how common miscarriages are, it seems to be a topic women aren't talking about. We seem to be afraid or ashamed, and I want to change that. I can't tell you how healing it is when I've shared my story with a handful of other women--colleagues, classmates or family members--who confided in me that they too have had a miscarriage.
If you'd like to share your miscarriage story, even privately, I'd love to hear from you. How did you cope? What helped you get through it? Did you do anything differently in the future? My e-mail is jeanniecrofts at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
As I laid on the doctor's table on that cold January day, I felt a little piece of me dying, both literally and figuratively. I was told the baby had likely passed away a few weeks earlier, but my body, seemingly unable to let go, was going to have to have surgery the next day to remove my son or daughter.
The next day, I had a D&C procedure, which is when doctors put a woman under anesthesia, widen the cervix and scrape out the contents of the uterine lining. After speaking with my doctor, I felt like this was the best treatment for both my physical and emotional health.
It's still hard to believe that within 24 hours, I went from thinking I was going to be a mom by the end of July, to then having surgery and coming home to sleep, cry and bleed for the next few days. I felt sad, angry, depressed, and most of all, worried that I did something wrong.
Almost immediately, I decided I have to write about this. Even though I've discovered just how common miscarriages are, it seems to be a topic women aren't talking about. We seem to be afraid or ashamed, and I want to change that. I can't tell you how healing it is when I've shared my story with a handful of other women--colleagues, classmates or family members--who confided in me that they too have had a miscarriage.
If you'd like to share your miscarriage story, even privately, I'd love to hear from you. How did you cope? What helped you get through it? Did you do anything differently in the future? My e-mail is jeanniecrofts at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
Jeannie,
ReplyDeleteIn the aftermath of a miscarriage, I was amazed to know just how many women have been through the same thing. It seems like more of us have been through that experience than not.
Sometimes it seems like my relatives don't want to talk about out, or refer to it as if I have done something wrong, or as if it's a problem that's not to be mentioned.
I found myself feeling jealous of friends who were expecting babies and wondering why loving parents who want children have trouble while drug addicts (and worse) get to have babies.
The experience made me realize what a miracle life really is.