My Pregnancy Journey Part 2: My Pregnancy Loss
In this multi-post series, I share my full pregnancy journey, from the the first moment motherhood became a concrete goal, through my three pregnancies and births, loss, and fertility challenges. I hope that doing so will help to challenge commonly-held misperceptions about pregnancy and birth, and foster recognition that there are a wide variety of experiences, choices, and outcomes that are possible. Ultimately, it’s about connection, to empower each other with confidence and wisdom to make our own informed decisions about what’s best for ourselves and our babies. If you have a pregnancy, loss, or birth story that you would like to share on the blog, please reach out here!
I remember the moment I knew I wanted a second baby. Baby C. and I were playing on the living room floor together and I recall thinking how much I wanted a sibling for her to play with, how amazing it would be if we had another little person in our inner circle. I had recently finished my maternity leave and returned to work, which included preparing for an upcoming assignment to Beijing, China (find out why on my ‘About Me’ page), so the timing was not ideal, but I felt my heart clearly telling me that there was a being still to come in our family.
Since we had conceived C. literally on our first try, we assumed we’d have no problems getting pregnant again. Even after a few months of trying to conceive without success, we chalked it up to the stress of the move and kept trying. About a month after we arrived in Beijing, I got the big plus on the pregnancy test. We were both relieved and thrilled!
As foreigners with private health insurance, we were fortunate to have access to a fancy private medical clinic with Western-trained doctors. A few weeks into my pregnancy, I scheduled my first prenatal appointment with my doctor there. She congratulated me and, since we had decided that we would return to Canada for the birth, recommend that I have a dating ultrasound so make sure we made it back to Canada in time.
Excited for an early glimpse of the baby, I headed downstairs to the imaging department and eagerly prepared myself on the chair. I remember the technician was a young local woman with a very professional manner. She performed the ultrasound, turned the screen towards me and told me: “look here: sac but no baby. Miscarriage soon. Go to hospital when bleeding starts.”
It took me a minute to process what she had said. No baby. Miscarriage. Bleeding. Hospital. No baby. No baby. No baby.
Then I jumped into action, insisting that I see my doctor right away. She confirmed that it indeed appeared that I likely had a blighted ovum: the embryo had failed to develop and my uterus held an empty embryo sac. But, she told me, it was also possible that the ultrasound just hadn’t detected the tiny embryo in the sac and that everything was fine, especially since the bloodwork she had ordered earlier that day had come back normal, including a healthy amount of hCG. She recommended I return to the clinic the next day to redo the hCG test, explaining that with a viable pregnancy, hCG continues to rise. If the test showed that my hCG levels had increased, everything might just be ok.
The rest of the day passed in a fitful blur, and the next morning I headed over to the clinic. I had the bloodwork done, and was then told to wait at the clinic for the results. An hour passed, then two, then three. With each minute feeling like an eternity, it was truly exasperating! Finally, unable to take it anymore, I approached the nurses’ station and asked how much longer I would need to endure this for. After checking my file, the nurse blushed and stammered that it appeared that the lab had somehow misplaced my blood sample, nobody had noticed, and I had essentially been waiting for nothing. I was immediately taken to redo the bloodwork and reassured it would be processed immediately.
About 20 minutes later, I was finally called in to my doctor’s office. With sympathy in her eyes, she told me that my hCG levels had not changed, and that all signs therefore indicated that this was not a viable pregnancy. She gave me a moment for this to sink in, and then delivered even more grim news: while I could choose to miscarry naturally at home, she was concerned that if there were any complications, I would find myself in the dreaded local hospital, and therefore strongly recommended that I travel to Hong Kong as soon as possible for a D&C (curious about what a D&C is? Read more here).
It took a few days to make the necessary arrangements. In the meantime, I started bleeding.
We arrived in Hong Kong in the morning (C. and her dad were with me, both for support and because I was still breastfeeding) and after quickly checking in to our hotel, I left for an OB-GYN consult. After an examination and ultrasound to confirm that I was indeed miscarrying, I headed to the hospital. I was directed to my bed in a shared room, changed into my hospital gown, and spent a couple of hours trying to read, doze, and ignore the hunger pangs (I was not allowed to eat anything that day prior to surgery) while I not-so-patiently waited.
Finally, a team of nurses appeared and whisked me to the operating room. Feeling both terrified and numb, I stared at the ceiling and waited for the general anesthesia to kick in. The next thing I knew, I was back in my room, awakened by the soft conversation between the patient in the bed next to mine and her visitor about me: “I think she’s had a miscarriage.”
More waiting ensued, until the medical team declared that I was fit enough to leave. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, mainly because I was ravenously hungry and dying for a huge meal and a giant glass of wine.
I met up with C. and her dad at the hotel, and declared that we were going to feast that evening. We chose a posh restaurant on the top floor of a skyscraper with an incredible view, tantalizing menu, and impeccable service. And at the end of one of the hardest days of my life, C. serendipitously provided some much needed comic relief: she had been playing on the floor behind our table while we waited for our food when we noticed her squatting down and knew what was coming. Instinctively reaching for the diaper bag in preparation for the diaper change I knew was coming, we watched in horror as a giant pile of poop slide out the gaping side of her diaper and onto the restaurant floor. Finished with her business, she stood up and found a new place to play, while we sat frozen, waiting for the restaurant staff to approach us with a demand to immediately leave and never return. Instead, a formally dressed restaurant attendant magically appeared with a broom and mop and within a couple of minutes magically disappeared the poop pile, without a word or even sideways glare, as if it was totally normal for a foreign toddler to poop on the floor in the middle of the dinner rush. Our food arrived shortly afterward and it was delicious and satisfying, exactly what I needed. And now, when I think back on that terrible day, I always remember that poop incident and chuckle.
Through all of this, because of the stigma, shame, and embarrassment associated with miscarriage, I kept my mouth shut at work and around my colleagues. I told my boss that I needed to take a couple of days off to go to Hong Kong for a medical procedure, but nothing more than that. Which meant that while I started to miscarry, I continued to work at my regular hectic pace- made even more hectic by the visiting big-shot delegation that I was responsible for that week- and was back in the office two days after the D&C procedure. There was no time or space permitted to physically heal, or to deal with the mental and emotional toil I was going through. Which made healing (physically, mentally, and emotionally) that much harder.
Now this was more than 10 years ago, before social media became the beast that it currently is. And while I know that the stigma around miscarriage still persists, there are many superwomen out there who have done incredible work to start breaking down this stigma and to provide women who are going through pregnancy loss with the resources and support the need. If you have had a pregnancy loss and need support, please reach out to me here and I will help to connect you with resources that may help!