The Story, Part I

   Sharing "the story" is part of making sense of the madness. In light of that, I wanted to share more of mine. 

*  Be forewarned: this story involves blood and gets a bit graphic. If that is going to gross you out, then I suggest you find some other reading material.  *

   I got pregnant in November 2011.  On January 22nd, 2012, a Sunday, I had some spotting/bleeding. I called the advice nurse on my insurance and they recommended either waiting till morning and going to my doctor's office, or going to ER. We went to ER because I wanted to find out what was going on.
   At the ER they did an ultrasound and it was discovered that there was no heartbeat on the baby. Baby was measuring about 7 1/2 weeks when by dates, I should have been around 12 weeks. For some reason I felt sad, but ok with it, at that point. I don't know if it didn't sink in, or if I didn't process the meaning of it, or maybe I was in denial--but I was calm. "That's sad, but we can try again," I told my husband, and he agreed. We went home and told my parents, who were watching our toddler son. My mom was sad for me, but I felt that I was going to be ok. I hadn't passed the baby yet, but I didn't want a D&C. I waited to miscarry at home. 
   For a couple of days I hovered between resignation and denial. Hope would spring anew that maybe they were wrong and my baby was ok. I took it easy just in case and the bleeding slowed. I thought maybe I was getting better--maybe the baby was all right. My sister and my mom said they were praying for the baby to be healed. I believe this gave me false hope. 
   Tuesday the 24th, the bleeding kicked up again. In the shower I started to cry, knowing that my body was taking apart the home that had been a safe place for my baby. That night, I started getting cramps and figured it was probably happening. I told my husband I was going to take a nap. I tried to sleep, but couldn't, and went to the bathroom. The blood just kept coming so I stayed there, because I wanted to try to see my baby and say goodbye.
   I decided to mention to my husband that I was bleeding, so I told him I might be there awhile. He asked how much I was bleeding and I said I didn't know, because I wasn't wearing a pad at that point (the ER said that if more than 1 pad per hour, to come back). Well, I stuck a pad on, and I bled through it in about 2 minutes. He came in the bathroom and saw how much blood was in the toilet, and how pale my face was, and told me we were going to the hospital. He is an EMT, although he doesn't do it for a living anymore, he could tell just by looking at me that there wasn't time to call an ambulance. (He told me this after the fact---I didn't realize how serious it was at the time). I spent a few minutes getting cleaned up, put one of my son's diapers on to catch the blood, and packing a diaper bag for our toddler and then he shooed me out the door and into the car. 
   It took about 5 minutes to get there, and by the time I was checked in and getting my vitals taken, I had blood running down my leg under my jeans. The nurse asked me for a urine sample, and it took forever in the bathroom to try to get the blood cleaned off enough to pee in the cup. The nurse came in to the restroom, concerned that I was taking so long. I did the best I could and then she wheeled me into a room in a wheelchair. (I found out later that I didn't do good enough--there was still too much blood in the sample so they had to catheterize me to get a clean sample. Oh, joy.)
    At some point in here, my mom arrived to take our son home, so my husband could stay with me in the ER.
   After getting in the room and getting an IV started in my right arm, the MA/nurse took a preliminary history/physical and then I believe they stepped out to get the doctor. (Things are a little fuzzy at this point.) My husband started to step out the door, but I started to feel funny, so called him back, and told him so. I wanted him close by just in case something happened to me. It's a good thing I said something. He snagged a nurse right away, and in that short time, I started feeling woozy and light-headed, like I wanted to pass out. All of a sudden there were people all around me. Someone elevated my feet and lowered my head, and they threw a second (larger) IV needle into my left arm, pumping fluids into me as quickly as they could. Within a few minutes my head began to clear and I felt better.
   When the ER doc came in, he asked his questions, and then did a pelvic exam. He said there was some placenta blocking the cervix so he tried to clear out the blockage. I realized months later that he must have gotten the baby out at that point, because he was putting what he was pulling out into a container of some sort, that the MA was holding. He asked us if we wanted to get it tested. I had no idea, I'd never had something like this happen before. I looked to my husband, and he shrugged; he didn't know either. I told the doctor probably not, that we didn't have a reason to get it tested at this point. (Little did I know that after the fact, I would wish I had gotten it tested.)
   The ER doc didn't feel he was able to clear away all the placenta that was blocking the cervical opening, so he talked with another doctor that was there, I believe she was an L&D doc. He told her that he didn't think he was able to get it all, and she recommended a D&C, which we were in agreement about, because of all the bleeding. I had wanted to pass the baby at home, but I was ok with getting a D&C at this point, because the process was well underway and it wouldn't change the outcome. And of course, with the crazy hemorrhaging, if I didn't have the D&C, I would probably end up bleeding to death. 
  In short order they packaged me up and got me heading for OR. I remember they had a hard time getting my wedding ring off. They were finally able to remove it and they wheeled me back. I wished my husband could go with me, because I felt a bit nervous---and vulnerable. He couldn't of course, but he kissed me and off I went. They got me onto a table in the OR and the anesthesiologist got the gas going. He seemed peppy and upbeat, and I can't recall if he had me talking/answering questions, or if he had me count backwards or something, but very soon I was dead to the world. I didn't remember anything until the recovery room. I always seem to get really talkative after general anesthesia. I have only had it once before but had the same thing happen. I was trying to talk and carry on a conversation almost before anyone could understand my slurred words. 

      This story is going to be a long one, so we'll consider this an intermission and I'll write more later.