The day started like any ordinary day. I was scheduled to go to a routine Ultrasound appointment that night. My husband who was in New York working that day was delayed by the train coming home and did not think he would make it on time. Normally, I would have just gone to the appointment myself, but my gut instinct told me to ask my Mom to come along with me. My daughter came along too and again, a gut instinct told me to have them wait in the waiting room. Being in the medical profession, I knew as soon as the Technologist started scanning me that something was wrong. She was moving the transducer around and her face told me the news I never imagined I would receive. I looked at her and said, “My baby is gone, isn’t it?” She confirmed with her sympathies. So many thoughts were running through my mind, how could this be? I was not bleeding or having any signs that something was going on. The next moments are a blur to me. I remember walking out and walking right past my mom and daughter into the parking lot and completely losing it. I could not even get the words out when my mom asked me what happened. On that awful drive home, I called my OB who got on the phone with me right away and told me to come right in to talk, even though it was 8 pm and the office was closing. By this point, my husband was home and was calling to see how my appointment went. I did not want to tell him over the phone, so I waited until I made it home. I don’t think I even said the words, he just knew when he saw me. We headed to my doctor’s right away where I learned more details. The reason I had no idea anything was wrong was because I had what is known as a “Missed Miscarriage.” That is the baby stops developing, but does not expel from the womb. I was 15 weeks, but unfortunately my baby stopped growing at 12 weeks. For 3 weeks I carried around, talked to, loved and was so excited to meet a baby who was no longer with me.
Given how far along I was, my doctor told me my best option was to have a surgical procedure called a “D&E” to remove the baby. He knew how hard it would be for me to wait around knowing what I now knew, so he scheduled me for surgery the very next morning. I don’t think I slept a second that night, my heart was broken. I know how blessed I was to have a happy, healthy daughter, but my heart ached for what could have been. The next morning was even harder. Even though I knew my baby was no longer with us, being wheeled into the operating room felt like I was giving up on my child. I must have asked 10 times if they are sure the baby is really gone. After surgery, I became withdrawn and wanted to be alone. I know I did not do anything to cause it, yet I felt a sense of shame and guilt. I did not know how to tell my daughter the news, in terms she would understand, but she saved me the heartbreak the next morning when she announced, “baby all gone mommy.”
Over the course of the next few weeks, my emotions were all over the place. I accepted what happened, but the void in my heart was so great. They say that everything happens for a reason, and I hated when people would say that to me or that it was just not meant to be, but in just a little under 1 month, I started to believe those words. I went back to my follow up appointment on January 28, 2011, and told my OB that I still felt pregnant. He told me that it was just the leftover hormones in my body. I felt it was more than that, so to ease my mind, the doctor did some blood work. The next morning he called and his exact words were “Holy crap, you are pregnant again.” I did not know that was even a possibility, nor was I trying to get pregnant so quickly. Pregnancy as I knew it to be, happy, joyful, exciting, no longer existed for me though, which made me feel like a horrible person. How could I not be excited about having another baby? My doctor kept reassuring me that it was my mind’s defense mechanism to protect my heart from being broken again. After 9 months of feeling that awful way, as soon as they placed my 2nd daughter in my arms, all of those emotions that I was suppressing came flooding out. I finally breathed and let my guard down.
One thing that this experience has taught me is how little people talk about their experience. After sharing my story, so many friends and family came forward and said they experienced a miscarriage too. If anything positive can come out of sharing our stories, I hope it lessens the “shame” a woman feels after losing a child. It is a club none of us moms want to join, but together we can create a support system to help others from feeling so alone.
One other thing I would like to bring awareness to is questions that unsuspecting strangers routinely ask. I had blood tests done on my baby, and a few months after our loss, I found out that it was a boy. At least a few times a week, random strangers will see me with my daughters and make hurtful comments, that I know they do not mean to be hurtful, such as “Are you going to try again for a boy?” “Your husband must be so disappointed to not have a son,” etc. I used to get sad but I have made it my mission, by sharing my story openly, to bring awareness and end the stigma of involuntary pregnancy loss and to have people maybe think before they speak. Now when they ask me those questions, I simply reply “We lost a son, and we are very blessed to have 3 happy and healthy daughters.” Together we can end the silence and help others who experience this heartbreak. A short time in my womb, a lifetime in my heart. Our angels were just too precious for this world!
Kristen Ayling
Huntingdon Valley, PA
Proud Mom to Alyssa (8), Kelsey (5), Chloe (3) and our special Angel Son
Given how far along I was, my doctor told me my best option was to have a surgical procedure called a “D&E” to remove the baby. He knew how hard it would be for me to wait around knowing what I now knew, so he scheduled me for surgery the very next morning. I don’t think I slept a second that night, my heart was broken. I know how blessed I was to have a happy, healthy daughter, but my heart ached for what could have been. The next morning was even harder. Even though I knew my baby was no longer with us, being wheeled into the operating room felt like I was giving up on my child. I must have asked 10 times if they are sure the baby is really gone. After surgery, I became withdrawn and wanted to be alone. I know I did not do anything to cause it, yet I felt a sense of shame and guilt. I did not know how to tell my daughter the news, in terms she would understand, but she saved me the heartbreak the next morning when she announced, “baby all gone mommy.”
Over the course of the next few weeks, my emotions were all over the place. I accepted what happened, but the void in my heart was so great. They say that everything happens for a reason, and I hated when people would say that to me or that it was just not meant to be, but in just a little under 1 month, I started to believe those words. I went back to my follow up appointment on January 28, 2011, and told my OB that I still felt pregnant. He told me that it was just the leftover hormones in my body. I felt it was more than that, so to ease my mind, the doctor did some blood work. The next morning he called and his exact words were “Holy crap, you are pregnant again.” I did not know that was even a possibility, nor was I trying to get pregnant so quickly. Pregnancy as I knew it to be, happy, joyful, exciting, no longer existed for me though, which made me feel like a horrible person. How could I not be excited about having another baby? My doctor kept reassuring me that it was my mind’s defense mechanism to protect my heart from being broken again. After 9 months of feeling that awful way, as soon as they placed my 2nd daughter in my arms, all of those emotions that I was suppressing came flooding out. I finally breathed and let my guard down.
One thing that this experience has taught me is how little people talk about their experience. After sharing my story, so many friends and family came forward and said they experienced a miscarriage too. If anything positive can come out of sharing our stories, I hope it lessens the “shame” a woman feels after losing a child. It is a club none of us moms want to join, but together we can create a support system to help others from feeling so alone.
One other thing I would like to bring awareness to is questions that unsuspecting strangers routinely ask. I had blood tests done on my baby, and a few months after our loss, I found out that it was a boy. At least a few times a week, random strangers will see me with my daughters and make hurtful comments, that I know they do not mean to be hurtful, such as “Are you going to try again for a boy?” “Your husband must be so disappointed to not have a son,” etc. I used to get sad but I have made it my mission, by sharing my story openly, to bring awareness and end the stigma of involuntary pregnancy loss and to have people maybe think before they speak. Now when they ask me those questions, I simply reply “We lost a son, and we are very blessed to have 3 happy and healthy daughters.” Together we can end the silence and help others who experience this heartbreak. A short time in my womb, a lifetime in my heart. Our angels were just too precious for this world!
Kristen Ayling
Huntingdon Valley, PA
Proud Mom to Alyssa (8), Kelsey (5), Chloe (3) and our special Angel Son
Kristen,
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your story and your heartache with us. We are truly sorry for your loss. You brought up a valid point regarding when strangers ask questions such as, "Are you going to try for a boy?," or one of my favorites... "Do you just have the two?" For the most part, I believe that they are well-intentioned and do not mean any harm by their comments/questions. However, to someone who has experienced a miscarriage, those comments/questions cut to the core. I always struggle with how to respond when I am faced with such questions. As you mentioned, hopefully by talking openly about our experiences and bringing awareness to how often miscarriages occur, people will think twice before they ask such potentially hurtful questions. Thank you, again, for helping us to break the silence.
Stacy (IPL Collaborative Team)