Now there is some distance from the shock of losing my baby I feel I can write about what going through a silent miscarriage is like - physically and mentally. Nearly two weeks on since I had my d & c and three weeks since I discovered the terrible truth, I am still very much feeling the physical and mental aftermath of my silent miscarriage.
Knowing I was carrying around a dead baby was a weird feeling. I went from never wanting to let it go, to hating the fact that the fetus was still there and making me feel pregnant for nothing - to feeling scared that I was going to contract an infection. I felt quite morbid and uneasy being so close to both life and death, but at the same time strangely comforted as it gave me time to still feel close to my baby before we had to say goodbye. The day of the d & c I felt an overwhelming mixture of anxiety, relief and sorrow. I felt sick with the intensity of it all.
Immediately after the d & c there was a lot of blood. I was quite sore and felt really delicate. When I left the hospital I was prescribed some strong painkillers to take as needed. I was expecting to experience painful cramps and a lot more bleeding but I didn't. I didn't have to take the painkillers once. I still consider this to be a good sign. That perhaps the d & c procedure had been more gentle - Mr. T and I had been really emphasizing how nervous we were about the risks of scarring to the OBGYN. We had read a lot of information about how some women's fertility had been compromised drastically after scarring following a d & c. I was so nervous about someone taking blunt instruments into my womb - it scared me a lot. We had done some research and found that the rates of scarring went up significantly if the d & c procedure was done blind, i.e no imaging so the OBGYN can see what they are doing. We stated specifically to the consultant that we wanted it to be a guided d & c - where they use ultrasound throughout the procedure. Over the phone the consultant agreed to this and we agreed to the procedure. Once we were in the hospital she mentioned that they might use ultrasound if the machine was available. I freaked out. So did Mr. T. I was about to say no, to say that I didn't want to go through with it. I kept my composure and said to the consultant, please I don't want this done blindly, I want this to be a guided procedure. Okay she said, we'll get the machine in the operating theatre. After she left, I turned to Mr. T - how can we know that they'll actually use the machine? I will be completely out - how will I know she's not just saying this to me? Earlier the hospital had made me sign a consent form for the procedure. Mr. T took the form back and said that we wanted it specifically stated that this would be a guided procedure and that we wanted it signed by the doctor. We got the paperwork signed and I felt slightly more relieved but still incredibly nervous. While I was lying in the preparation room, about to be knocked out, the OBGYN arrived wearing her scrubs and said to me, I just want you to know we have the ultrasound machine in the operating room and we will be using it through the procedure. I was glad she had taken the trouble to let me know this. When I awoke from the d & c I could feel the dried gel on my belly. Some small relief in the midst of the anguish I felt when I awoke.
A guided procedure makes so much more logical sense. Wombs are sensitive things - a blunt instrument can do a lot of permanent damage, it is really up to the skill and experience of the OBGYN and I'm sure that the ultrasound greatly aids this. I definitely think any woman who is faced with having a d & c should advocate for a guided procedure.
After the d & c I bled lightly for a few days and then everything stopped. I had very little pain or cramping and by the fourth day it was all gone. I thought it was all over, now I just had to wait and see how my cycles would kick back in. However nothing uterus-related seems to be straightforward. A week later I started bleeding again. Then it stopped. A few days later I went to the bathroom to find my pants soaked through. And then nothing. I phoned my doctor in Morocco and in the UK and they assured me this was all normal. So I just wear my old underwear now as you never know when the bleed will strike. Let alone all the other strange bits of material that randomly appear from me at the moment. It's all part of the healing process which requires surrendering to the current reality and having the patience to know that it will eventually pass.
The emotional aftermath in a strange way also mirrors the on and off aspect of the physical effects of the miscarriage. At times I am laughing and thinking of the future with Mr. T. Other times I feel numb and gloomy and then I just burst into tears. And other times I feel philosophical about it all, I talk with my baby and with God and realize that this is just part of a much bigger plan. I still miss our baby terribly. I think of my baby everyday and how hard it is to say goodbye. A lot of people say 'Don't worry you'll get pregnant again' (which is hard to believe after you spent two years trying for your first pregnancy) which really upsets me too. It seems to negate the little one that was growing inside me. It also doesn't let me grieve. Parenthood for Me wrote a brilliant article called 'Misunderstanding Miscarriage' where she spoke of how this kind of loss is not validated and parents aren't allowed to grieve properly as the baby is not seen as a real-life person yet. Many don't appreciate that parents can love and be so attached to a child from very early on. Mr. T and I were. This was the baby we had longed and ached for. This was the baby Mr. T had had surgery for. We loved this baby from the moment it was conceived. For three months I had been talking with this baby and trying to be the best mother I could be. And perhaps this is the hardest thing. The adjustment from being two, to just being one.
At this point I have accepted that this happened to me. I have accepted that my baby is gone. And I have accepted that there is life after this. What we need now is time. Time. The most powerful healer.
