My Micarriage Operation

Wednesday 16th November 2016.

Had our alarm on, as we were due at the hospital for 9am. I made sure I was wearing old, comfortable jogging bottoms, a t shirt, sensible black knickers with obviously a pad on them. I took a fleece for layers.

I kept saying, after all the clots and blood I lost during the night of Monday 14th, "what could possibly be left in there??" But the consultant on Monday told us our baby was stuck fast - not going anywhere, not even if I'd taken the Misoprostol - so it was impossible he (she) had come on the Monday night.

When we get to the hospital, we are only in the waiting room for about 15 minutes until a nurse calls mine and another girl's name. We got up and began to follow her down the corridor. She turned and said "bring your partners!" So I bellow "HUBSSSSS!" down the corridor. 

We were shown to a bed nearest the corridor and the other young lady was given the bed next to me. I was about to start chatting to her, but the same nurse came back then and threw a hospital gown like a frisbee onto the bed, and some disposable knickers (why the heck are they WHITE??!) she boomed "put these on now. He can do it up for you" (pointing at hubs). She closed the curtains around us for privacy. I choked out "but I'm bleeding" she said "so?? You have a pad don't you??" My hubs kept repeating "you don't need to wear them". When I'm told to do something, I feel I have to! So I obsessed about that! 

I got into the gown and crumbled. I didn't want to be alive. If my baby wasn't allowed to live, I didn't want to either.

I was so, so scared of surgery. More scared of possible complications than of the pain - we all know us women aren't strangers to intense pain! I'd miscarried in bed less than 48 hours ago, after all! The doctor who'd been mocking my pain threshold on Monday had also said, during the consent form signing, "the surgery will perforate your bowel or bladder" not 'it could'. But hubs kept trying to reassure me it was a language barrier as to why she had said it wrong. Not very reassuring when you're facing surgery you do not want!

I cried. I just sat on the bed and felt like the most miserable, sad human being on earth right then. I cried and wished for another outcome.

I cried.

I decided to abide by the nurse's command and went to the toilet to put the pad onto the paper knickers. 

The nurse kept coming to speak to the lady next to me, it sounded like she hadn't had the blood tests I'd had on Monday (yes you may think 'lucky her!' because they were horrendous, but you need them 48 hours or less before your surgery). So she was still there waiting when I left hours later, poor lady.

We settled down, me all gowned up, him on the comfortable arm chair next to the bed and me under the covers. He had his largest iPad with him so we began to watch a TV show we hadn't got round to watching yet - "Married At First Sight". 

Us, waiting & watching TV

I vaguely remember hubs going to get me a drink or some food? Or was that after the surgery?? I'm not sure.

Around 3 hours after first getting there, I was taken to the room that was called 'The Little Star Room'. I loved that the room my lil bean would be coming out was called such a lovely name.

Anyway, down to business. For the hundredth time that year, legs on stirrups. They ripped the knickers off. There were 3 ladies in total. All very lovely. The lady started the internal ultrasound and said "have you bled at all??" We looked at each other, hubs positioned in a chair by my head, rubbing my shoulder, looked at each other and laughed "just a bit on Monday night!" 

She said "the baby has gone. There is still around 3cm of placenta in there" I felt sad to learn my baby's ashes won't be going to the same crematorium as our family member's - that he (she) had come in fragments at home (which strangely my husband finds comforting - our baby came at home, with us).

I asked what I should do, they said it was up to me but that as I was there already and 3cm in my little body was rather large, they'd probably go for it. Or we could wait. Which increases risk of infection because my cervix was totally open & bleeding. To wait for all of the placenta and lining to come on it's own could take weeks. We would be in danger of it dragging into Christmas. Which I'd been insistent from the start, I didn't want to happen.

My hubs, and still reminds me to this day, kept saying "so you miscarried the majority of your pregnancy alone and on the floor!!" Like that's a badge of bravery or something, he thinks it's amazing (and very silly of me not to have woken him straight away!)

I was holding the gas & air machine from where I was given it as I'd sat down. As soon as I said "let's do it - I need this over with", the ladies said, "start your gas & air now"

So I did!

Wow that sh*t is gooooood!!

At one point, I thought "I'm taking too much I'd better stop for a second." I stopped, and the pain flooded into my conscious. So I started the gas and air again!

Now, this part is so so hazy for me. I remember every time they said "are you okay?" I put my thumbs up. According to hubs, I flinched at the needle they use to put the local anaesthetic in (understandable) and they had to change size of suction device because it was not fitting my cervix correctly so apparently I flinched as they pulled out and went back in. Apparently!

I do remember sharp pains and various tugging pains, some like the HSG sort of pain but 100 times more intense obviously - just the same sharpness.

Hubs spent the entire procedure rubbing my shoulder and repeating how proud he was and how brave I was. The ladies all kept saying too "wow you're a very brave girl, you're doing brilliantly".

As I'd been on clomid since July, I'd not had an alcoholic drink. So you can imagine how amazing I thought gas & air was!

**WARNING TMI** I said to hubs after it had finished "what was the intense pumping that was happening in and out?? Really intense" He replied "they had already come out by then" so my body, once being vacated, had pumped lots of blood and air out so intensely I thought it was an apparatus doing it.

They gave me the 'after' ultrasound. It was clear. I was technically NOT PREGNANT anymore (still with all the hormones though. There's no needle & device that can get those out. The joys.)

The first thing I said when I took the tube out of my mouth - "I'm never getting pregnant again - I missed that drunk feeling too much!" I then went on to say "wow that sh*t is great, they should let you have that at home when you miscarry!!" They, for some reason, thought I was hilarious. And they kept going on about how brave I'd been. Like you have a choice!

As I was leaving, the main lady said, "I'm sure you've been told, no..." And I interrupted and said "no sex ever again!! Yup definitely not!" And they all laughed! She said "you shouldn't have sex until you've stopped bleeding which will take 2-4 weeks, and then must use protection because we don't want you getting pregnant again in your first cycle." She didn't know we (well, I) can't reproduce naturally so as far as she was concerned, that was an actual possibility! Which made me laugh!

I went to the toilet to put my knickers back on. 

Back to the ward. On Monday when we'd signed all the forms, I was promised tea & toast. Nope - no tea, no toast. Just water. You can go to the canteen to get some though. I had in my head "if we get out of here soon, we can get Macdonalds". 

The nurse came to take my blood pressure within 10 mins of having the procedure, she said "I was looking for Kerri-Anne" I told her "that's me" she said "oh I thought you'd had your operation already?" We said I have! She said "oh you really don't look like you have?! You look like raring to go like you're sitting there saying "what's next?! Come on I can take anything!" We all laughed, I told her "my BP will be fine - it always is - even when I'm in threatened miscarriage and my heart is going like the clappers!" She expressed she doubted it - that I'd just had an invasive procedure. She took my BP and almost fell over - it was exactly the same as it always is! 

I waited a while but was so hungry, hubs went to the canteen. They'd run out of toast. Yes, seriously. The hospital at 1pm on a Wednesday had run out of bread! I'd asked for tea and he brought me up a hot chocolate because he just wasn't thinking straight. 

At the end of the day, even though he couldn't have any of the invasive tests - HSG, internal ultrasounds, the side effects of the clomid etc - he would if he could - and the fact he couldn't do this final act for me, that he knew I was dreading so much - made him feel awful. He'd longed for this baby so so much, even more than I had initially, 2 years ago - he had been more ready than me. And he'd lost his baby too. So no wonder he'd forgotten my drink order! But, he did bring me a cinnamon swirl!

I had to wait around to have my BP taken an hour later so we finished watching the TV show we had been halfway through. I felt a flood of warmth and hurried to the toilet. A gush of blood had soaked through the pad. I was all out of pads. That's one piece of advice I'd give to others - take loads of pads! And at least 1 change of knickers. Luckily, there are pads in the toilet so I took one of those and clean myself up as best I can.

How did u feel? Emotionally wrung out, sad to not be pregnant anymore, fearful of the future, scared there will be complications of my recovery, sad for my husband's loss (I kept asking "are you okay?" over & over!) I felt empty emotionally, and desolate.

Physically? I was in pain. Nothing that didn't compare to Monday night. It was sore to sit down, I laid down so less pressure down there. I hated that my body couldn't control the gushes of blood too. I got cramps, similar to miscarriage cramps, or the cramps I got when Lil Bean was settling in weeks ago. Deep, pulling cramps.

I was eventually asked if I'd like to go home after having my BP checked another 2 times. The nurse asked if I was bleeding, I said yes and explained how much. She said that should subside within a couple of days, and go down to a normal flow for at least a couple weeks.

I never did get my Macdonalds that day. 

The Natural Part of the Miscarriage

I wasn't sure if I'd ever write this.

As you all know, I tracked my entire pregnancy, writing each up and down, mostly whilst sat in emergency hospital wards for hours twisting my thumbs (and my emotions).

But, I got to thinking... A lot of people write their birth stories out. Many are positive, lots are negative, but they still write them. Because they are proud of what they had produced, what their body was capable of.

I am so, so proud of my baby. Of my body. 

This will be TMI for some people, but most will accept it's a birth story so will expect it!

So here goes (from what I can recall three months ago).

The last time I wrote on here was my Two Week Wait for the baby to come on it's own.

I was PETRIFIED of any surgery. I spoke to lots of people who had miscarried, some naturally, some using the tablet, others pessaries and some surgery. Lots of different advice. The majority was - DO NOT let it happen naturally, opt for the surgery. I couldn't bring myself to have any surgery that wasn't necessary.

So I waited. I drank red wine (not daily!) I exercised (not as heavy as when not pregnant) I drank copious amounts of CAFFEINATED tea, ate rare steak. I wished that I like pâté just so I could add that to the rebel list!

And...

Nothing. 

Every day one of my best friends rung me "how are you?" - "still no sign" "WHAT?! Nothing at all has happened yet?! How is that possible?!"

Fast forward a week. Go to my pre-arranged fertility consultant appointment. It was booked for early November back in July when I was prescribed the Clomid, to see where I was at.

He said "next time, I want you to take half a 50mg tablet because you had too many eggs the last 2 times"

Hubs replied "are you joking?! We haven't even got this one out yet!! And we're not over this loss". The consultant's response; "well don't wait around too long, just have the surgery get it over and done with, keeping it in there is raising your risk of infection".

I panic, talk it over with my mum and hubs then ring the Gynae ward the next day. They assure me waiting 2 weeks carries little to no risk of infection - my body's levels are still pregnant - my body is still nourishing and growing around our poor deceased baby.

I arrange to go in on Saturday 12th for the blood tests I need, in order to take the Misoprostol tablets.

I was so worried about taking these - the hospital I was under was now around an hours drive away as we'd recently moved home. I was told the effects of the tablets take 1-72 hours to start working. There's no guarantee they will work. There's no guarantee your body will expel EVERYTHING after taking Misoprostol. But I needed to get this baby out - it had been 3.5 weeks since Lil Bean had stopped growing and 2.5 weeks since diagnosis of loss. 

Saturday 12th came, only a 3 hour wait this time for me to have some blood tests. They needed to be done 48 hours before I took the tablets. So I booked in for 9am Monday 14th November.

I was to take the Misoprostol the morning of the 14th, drive home and wait to pass baby & placenta.

I'd started to bleed on the Friday 11th, and had cramps from as soon as I finished at the gym that morning, but not enough to write home about. I mentioned it on the Saturday and got a "yea, and what?!" sort of reaction, but was secretly hoping I'd miscarry over the weekend so I didn't have to have the tablets on Monday!

Sunday night. My goodness. The contractions and pain I felt, I was convinced something must have come. The amount of blood was increasing too, especially overnight on the Sunday.

I woke hubs up, who sat there rubbing my back and topping up my hot water bottle whilst I stayed in the bathroom until I felt safe enough to go back to bed and try to sleep.

I was convinced I wouldn't need the tablet. I mentioned to the nice nurse on the ward as soon as I got there. She said she wouldn't give me the tablet until I saw a consultant, who could give me an ultrasound.

The ultrasound showed our perfect little baby all snuggled up right where he (she) had been 3 weeks previous. The consultant explained all the blood I'd lost was superficial - it was my levels dropping but my contractions hadn't brought on the actual miscarriage. I was devastated. I numbly listened, and, uncharacteristically for me - I numbly agreed when he said "you have no other option - you MUST have surgery. This baby will not be coming on its own".

I had to then have lots more vials of blood taken before the operation. So more blood tests. 5 needles and 3 members of staff later - no luck. I'm hysterical. Crying. Shaking.

I've never ever hated blood tests, I take them like I brush my teeth. But the doctor sneered at me after the 5th failed attempt "how will you cope with the surgery with such a low pain threshold??" Hubs put her right. I numbly muttered "I'm not usually bad".

I wanted to die. I honestly did not want to be on earth anymore. I wanted all this shit over.

They sent me up from the Gynae ward to the Blood test ward. They told me I should have got a note from the Gynae ward if they need me seen today. I said "I'll go get a note" they said "no, there's a long wait, they can't need it done that quick". I lost it - sobbing - bleeding - I shouted "well my fucking baby is dead, I've been here for 6 and a half hours, I've been told I need surgery I'm so scared I just want this to be over"

Within 3 minutes I was in a cubicle with a professional blood-taker sealing 8 vials of my blood. Success at last.

I wanted to die that day.

That night I was woken around 1am with the increasing need to PUSH. A huge flood of blood came out as soon as I got to the bathroom. I was contracting painfully. More blood. More blood than I'd ever seen before in my life. I stayed in the bathroom, passing what was all of a sudden so desperate to come.

I crawled to the kitchen to refill my hot water. I was sobbing, curled up on the floor and gasping.

I couldn't get the lid off my hot water bottle. I was shouting for my hubs to come get it off. Wrapped up in the foetal position on the floor with the dog licking my face, clutching a cold hot water bottle.

I was a mess.

Eventually my husband heard me after around 10-15 mins. He came running, panic stricken. 

I filled him in. Then we went back to bed, to try to sleep.

At around 3am I woke and felt huge gushes. I ran to the bathroom but it was too late. I sat in there for around an hour, more and more coming. Contractions coming thick and strong. I kept saying "if that consultant hadn't said it was impossible, I'd guess our baby had come tonight". Monday 14th November (early hours of Tuesday 15th November).

My hubs was wonderful that night. As I knew he would be. He cleaned the whole bed, and the floor between the bedroom to the bathroom.

Tuesday passed, with not as much blood and controllable pain. Then Wednesday 16th was here. Surgery day. I was terrified.

I will blog the 16th November another time.