Time To Remember

Published January 7, 2011 by Hemlock

Today is January 7th – three years since my first, and only, D & C. It’s not a procedure I’d wish on anyone.

You see, it was my first known pregnancy, though I suspect I’d been pregnant before then but just not known it at the time. The baby stopped growing at about 6 weeks, and I was diagnosed with a blighted ovum with the complication of a subchorionic hemorrhage that had sent me to the hospital at 4am a day or so after Christmas. I ended up switching OBGyns for a second opinion as I didn’t feel the first OB’s office handled my situation appropriately.

Xannatos was out of town at CES, where I was to meet him, when I went in for my final ultrasound to verify that the pregnancy was ending. You see, because of the blighted ovum, my body just wasn’t catching on that there was a problem and kept producing all of the necessary pregnancy hormones, and I felt very pregnant; my Morning Sickness was horrible. Due to this, the doctor wanted to perform another ultrasound to verify my diagnosis.

I remember laying back on the table, and just knowing this was the end… after all of this, the news wasn’t going to be good. You know what? It wasn’t. The ovum was incredibly distorted and just looked unhealthy compared to the previous ultrasound images I’d seen. After seeing that image, I knew it was over, so I took a deep breath and asked what the next step was. I didn’t, and wouldn’t, allow myself to break down. That would be for later. Unfortunately, that would have to be alone. I was offered three options: The first was to have the D & C performed, the next was to wait it out naturally, and the final was a shot of something along with some pills that would trigger the miscarriage. In the end, I opted for the D & C. There would be no waiting, and no poisons put into my body.

I was terrified… I’d even say petrified. It’s one thing to know, logically, what happens during a natural miscarriage, but I can tell you from experience that it’s completely different to actually go through one. I don’t find them quite as traumatizing now, as I know what to expect, and I’ve been through so many that I know how my body responds and because of this experience, I will never have another D & C. I would have to say that the surgical procedure was more traumatizing than the natural miscarriages.

I remember going in still feeling the ‘glow’ of pregnancy, and then coming out feeling completely… empty. I felt hollow inside.

The nurse in the recovery room was a very sweet old lady who held my hand. I remember coming to, and crying quietly and uncontrollably. It was a while before I was composed enough to be moved to the next room where I would meet up with Xannatos. I don’t remember the exact change of events as the anesthesia had put me in quite a groggy state, but I remember, very distinctly, telling my husband that this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. I also, very clearly, remember a lot more crying.

To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever really gotten over it, and I really, honestly, think that I suffered from a mild case PTSD. Most people might say that I’m crazy for that, but that’s really how I feel. Now a days, it still bothers me, but I’ve had so many miscarriages that it has just become part of the process of becoming a mother.

The fact of the matter, though, is that here I am three years out, and I can still feel the emptiness I felt on that day… the hopelessness… and the darkness. I don’t wish these feelings on anyone. No one, not even the idiot crack whore, or teenager who manages to get knocked up deserves to feel what I’ve felt.


5 comments on “Time To Remember

  • You know, it’s really interesting to read this. My first pregnancy ended in a blighted ovum and a D&C week 8, and my second ended in a natural miscarriage. I actually felt like the natural one was far more difficult for me, and I would take a D&C over it any day.
    For me it was much more difficult to go through the continuous loss over the course of several days. Though I completely understand the feeling you’re describing. Perhaps it’s just a question of how you process things. My PTSD kicked in after the natural one, and not the D&C – though perhaps ti could have been a combination of both.
    Ahh, well.
    Either way – here’s a huge hug from across the inter-webs!

    • 🙂 Thanks for the hugs. They are greatly needed today.

      I think the reason why the D & C was harder on me than a natural MC, was because with the D & C there was no time to adjust to the idea of not being pregnant. With my other four natural MCs I’ve had time to really, I guess, take the ‘journey’ with my body. I’ll freely admit, though, that during the MC directly after my D & C was a completely terrifying experience.

      • You know, it’s interesting to look at it that way. For me, being pregnant was much more about the mind than the body – mostly because I was a rare case with barely any morning sickness and very few of the common first trimester symptoms. So for me, the minute I got the news, I already felt “not pregnant”.
        Then again, there’s also the chance that i just detached myself emotionally from it, and the D&C enabled that – then the natural miscarriage made me face it head on for a week straight. I guess that explains the ptsd. ahh well. I believe that your way of looking at things is most likely the healthier approach. because hey, my way ended in me being a non-functional mess for 3 months until i broke down and went for happy pills. So there you go. Perhaps if I had approached it in that way, I may have had an easier time dealing with it in the long run…

  • I’m so afraid of doing anything unneccessary to my uterus that I bluntly refused D&C both times. I’m glad my second time round that I didn’t get any early u/s’s done because then I would have known for so much longer and I didn’t miscarry untill 13 weeks but it was a blighted ovum as well (stopped development before 6 weeks).

    You’re right, I wouldn’t wish upon ANYONE.

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