April's Story

I had moved to Alaska with my year old daughter in November of 1999, to rejoin my military husband. It didn't take long for me to get pregnant. I had a positive pregnancy test in January 2000. In the military, they don't let you have your first ob-gyn appointment until you're 12 weeks along. I was ecstatic. Told EVERYONE. The day of the appointment, I was feeling anxious. Could I really do this? Was I ready to be a mom of 2, when my first child wasn't even potty trained yet? I laid down on the table, my one-year-old in her car seat, on the floor. Lifted up my shirt. That cool spooge of gel, the wand. I'm anxiously expecting to hear that quick thump-thump of the baby's heart. Nothing. He keeps moving the wand around to every possible spot on my abdomen. Still, no thump-thump. We'll try an internal ultrasound, the doc told me. I strip down, get into a hospital gown. He gets the wand ready. Still nothing. No heartbeat. No baby. Only emptiness and guilt. I had felt I wasn't ready. And I guess I was right, because the baby had stopped growing about two weeks previously. I was heartbroken. Now not only was I not going to have another baby, but I had to tell everyone that I had lost my baby. Reliving that heartbreak and pain over and over. The doctor said the baby would "pass" soon, when my body is ready. If it didn't happen within the week, I'd need to go back in and seek other options. A few days later, the pain started. I was going into the worst labor ever, the one where there is no happy ending. It was late at night. A friend watched our daughter and let us borrow her car (ours wasn't in AK yet). I go to the ER. They stuck me in a room, seemingly away from everyone. I was left to suffer in the dark. After they confirmed I was, indeed, miscarrying, they finally gave me some painkillers to dull the physical pain. There's nothing to dull the emotional and psychological pain of what was happening. I passed what I thought was the baby. A nurse came in, took it away. Never was told if my baby was a boy or a girl. No one really there to comfort me. In retrospect, I should have gone up to labor and delivery. But I didn't know what to do. I lost my baby and didn't know any better. It was difficult to recover from this. But day by day, I recovered physically. I was able to revel in the love and life of my one-year-old daughter. Two years later, I gave birth to another beautiful, healthy daughter.