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My Name Is Emilie, And I Had A Miscarriage

My name is Emilie. I am 34 years old, I have a 3 year old daughter, and last month, I miscarried at six weeks pregnant.

At the first prenatal ultrasound in October, the radiologist informed us that the baby was measuring at 6 weeks, and without a heartbeat. The second ultrasound nine days later confirmed the first ultrasound. The next day, the doctor presented me with my options: A) wait for the natural miscarriage, which would most likely happen within the next two weeks, B) take a prescription to induce a medicinal miscarriage, or C) get a D & C, a surgical miscarriage. I opted for the natural miscarriage, because I didn’t have insurance (under the Affordable Care Act, birth is a qualifying event, yet the 10 months leading up to the birth are not; WTF?) and I didn’t want anything around my uterus (I delivered my daughter via emergency C-section). So I scheduled the next appointment with the doctor for two weeks later, with the agreement that if the miscarriage didn’t happen by then, I would get a D & C.

One week later, I called the OBGYN’s office to inquire about the prescription. Since I still hadn’t started bleeding yet, I asked if I could still get the prescription. The nurse said they could give me the prescription at the appointment next week. Two days later, everything happened.

Warning: TMI alert!

I started bleeding at the supermarket while picking up lunch (thankfully, I already made the bank deposit for work). It was so heavy that I was soaking my pad in minutes. When I urgently called the OBGYN, the nurse said to immediately call 911. Luckily, the supermarket manager had already called for the ambulance. I had just enough time to call my husband’s office and told the front desk to page him. Now, imagine yourself being pushed out of the supermarket bathroom on a gurney, with linens wrapped around you from the waist down, with your soiled clothes in a plastic bag, completely conscious and alert. Needless to say, I won’t be stepping into that supermarket for a long time.

The EMTs monitored my vitals and gave me an IV during the ride to the hospital. They asked me questions, but most of the ride is a blur. I just remember passing blood and who knows what under the linens all the way to the hospital. Once I was checked into the hospital, and still bleeding,I remember feeling cold, thirsty and restless everytime I passed anything. I just could not lie still, even though I didn’t want to move. When I met the ER doctor (unfortunately, not Dr. John Carter from ER) and his nurses, I told them what my OBGYN had said. And let me tell you, I could feel the sense of relief wash over the entire room. The doctor would not have to tell me the bad news that I was miscarrying.

Soon after, the on call doctor from my OBGYN’s office arrived and introduced herself. She told me that I had to get a D & C, and possibly a blood transfusion. I would be put to sleep for the surgery, which would last about a half an hour. Within 15 minutes, I was transferred from the ER to the hallway outside the outpatient operating room. I remember the anesthesiologist telling me he was administering the happy, sleepy potion, and telling everyone around me “I can feel the drugs!”. The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room, repeatedly asking the nurse for the time, and the whereabouts of my husband. God bless her for not shushing me.

By now, about five hours had past since I totally messed up the supermarket bathroom. I did get a blood transfusion during the night at the hospital. I also got a catheter because I couldn’t potty due to the surgery. The OBGYN returned in the morning to check on me. Since I don’t remember anything between getting the sleepy potion and waking up in recovery, I asked her to tell me what happened. Basically, I had a lot of clotting in my uterus, which is why I hadn’t started to bleed. Then the previous day, my body started to flush out everything, but it wasn’t handling it very well. I lost a lot of blood, which resulted in the blood transfusion to replenish some of the lost blood. Two hours later, I went home.

I feel it is important to mention that at no point in time was I in any pain. And what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I am very grateful for what I have now: my family, my health, and my home.

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