Posted 05/02/2012
I feel like I should start with a disclaimer...
I don't want to be an advocate, or encourage anyone to go this route if that's not what they want to do. But I wanted to share my experience at least from a physical perspective so that you would at least have some first hand information to reflect on in your decision making process. The worst part of the day (outside of knowing why I was there) was the waiting.
I had a D&C yesterday because the day before, after demanding an appointment to check spotting I'd had for about 2 weeks, we found that the baby hadn't grown since my last U/S at 6w5d, and there was no heartbeat. At the time, I told the doctor I wanted to think about it for a couple of days before making any decisions, so she gave me the lowdown on what to expect should this happen on it's own as it likely could since it had been over 2 weeks (I should have been 9w4d at my appointment on Monday.)
I had an appointment with the same doctor yesterday morning at 8:20 to go over the consent forms, expected outcome, etc. My husband took the day off to be with me, and of course, because someone has to drive you home. We arrived at the office at about 8:10 thinking that I would be going straight in for the procedure as well since the dr. had said the day before she would "tentatively" schedule me, but if I chose to cancel, that was ok too. I sat in the waiting room for a good hour, all the cute pregnant women coming in announcing they were there for an ultrasound with the same gleam in their eyes I had had just a couple of weeks ago. That was almost the toughest part of the day. When the doctor finally called me back at 9:00 (40 mins late) I was so sad, and cried through most of the visit. She then told me that surgery was scheduled for 2:00, meaning I have to be back at 12:30 and needed to have some pre-op blood work done in the lab of the connecting hospital before I left in the morning. Another waiting room, but this time mostly filled with new moms and their new babies, all sharing labor and delivery stories, comparing lack of sleep stories, etc. After the lady drew my blood, more tears, and all I could say was that I was sorry - that it wasn't due to her poking me, it was why I was there in the first place. I walked out of the room and didn't even look at my husband, just headed for the door and he completely understood what I was saying.
We came home after that, about 10:30 at this point, and just waited for 12:00 to head back for the procedure. We sat on our back deck and talked about all of this quite a bit. Should I ask for another ultrasound first just to be sure? Do we want to ask for the baby's remains to have a private burial? Why was this happening to us? Why does it happen to so many women? Is it our food supply, the water, the air?
At 12:00, we left to go back to the hospital, and when we got there, they immediately called me back and said they would call my husband back to sit with me after I was prepped. Prepped in this case apparently meant asking me if there was any domestic violence. When I said no, they brought him back. We were in one of probably 10-12 private little rooms with a recliner, two chairs (which my husband said were the most uncomfortable chairs known to man), several machines, and a TV. They had me change, hooked up IV fluids, and no less than 8 people (nurses, bereavement counselers, anesthesiologists, etc.) came in over the next few hours, every one of them starting with "I'm so sorry this is how we are meeting" and me crying with each introduction. At 1:50, I headed to the bathroom for what I thought was my last time as the D&C was scheduled for 2:00. I don't know if it was the full bag of fluids I had absorbed by now or what, but now I was bleeding.
As a side note - I was told not to eat the evening before which I was actually ok with as I wasn't really interested in food after the prior day, and my husband being the wonderful man that he is didn't want to eat in front of me, so he asked the nurses if there would be a window of opportunity for him to grab some food. They said the procedure would take about 30 mins, the doctor would want to find him to let him know how it went, and then he would have an hour or so while I was in recovery. So it sounded like by 2:30 or so, he'd be able to finally eat. He's not a happy man when he's hungry - and honestly, I think when his blood sugar drops, it's physical for him.
2:00 came and went. 2:30 came and went, 3:00, the anesthesiologist comes in and asks if I'd like something for my nerves, to which I said of course, but I hadn't met the doctor yet, and he said he needed to wait for that. He also explained that I could opt for local anesthesia only if I wanted, but he suggested general. I don't know why, but the thing about general anesthesia that freaks me out is the possibility of a tube down my throat, and he said there would be a tube, but not in my windpipe, just kind of laying against my tongue to ensure I was getting oxygen. I went for the general - I didn't want to feel or remember a thing.
I saw a woman I thought might be the doctor appear in the hallway several times, but she never came in. Finally, around 3:30, she stuck her head in, introduced herself, and asked if I had any questions. I was so angry at this point - though I tried really hard not to be. For her to be running behind I thought, something must have gone wrong in an earlier procedure. But I was pissed. I only responded, "It's not like I'm waiting for a pedicure here, I just want to get this show on the road. Waiting is what I was trying to avoid." About 10 mins later, the anesthesiologist and a nurse show up with a wheelchair and a syringe - I sat in the wheelchair and the anesthesiologist says "you'll be really high in about 30 seconds." He wasn't kidding!
We get to the OR, they have me step into the bed, start putting EKG sticker thingies on me, said goodnight, and I was out. Next thing I know, a nurse is rubbing my hand, the anesthesiologist is waking me up and saying "you bit your lip when I pulled the tube out, so that's gonna hurt" and he was right - ouch. At that point, that hurt worse than anything else. There looked to be about 12 people in the room, and within 30 seconds, it was me and two nurses and I was bawling. They took me to recovery, where they had told me to expect about an hour, but it seemed like I was only in there for about 1/2 hour. They then took me back out to the place where my husband and I were at the beginning, and the nurse went to find him who had told him to go eat - no more waiting, she would find him when it was over. He had just gotten his food, and I was in the clear to eat a little, which they actually make you do before you can leave. So I had my pretzels and Sierra Mist and some of his chicken tenders and french fries. I had to show them I could pee, and then we could go if I was feeling steady on my feet. Went to the bathroom, nurse saw what she had to see, I changed, but we still hadn't seen the doctor to tell us (actually, was supposed to tell my husband while I was still in recovery) so we had to wait. Finally, about 20 mins later, she popped her head in, said there were no complications, and we were out of there. It's now 5:30.
We stopped at CVS to get a prescription filled, and I felt some cramping, but nothing major. I got some Therma Care menstrual patches and a book, and we came home. I called my mom, messaged with you all for a bit, watched some TV, ate a grilled cheese, and laid on the couch. Other than some light cramps, I was feeling ok, and I hadn't bled alot, so I changed to a panty liner instead of the matress they had me use and put on some old pants just in case, Around 9:00, I started feeling like things were wearing off a bit, so I took 1/2 of a Vicodin (only prescribed because they kept saying Advil and ibuprofen doesn't agree with my stomach) and went to bed.
I've been up for a couple of hours now, and physically, I do feel OK. A little cramping, and my damn lip hurts, but other than that, physically ok.
This was the right choice for me. The pain of waiting it out, and possibly seeing the baby myself was just too much for me to bear. Incidentally, we did opt for burial, but through a local funeral home that does a mass burial of babies lost this way for free, and the service will be in June. My baby will be in a casket with other babies that share this awful outcome, but I will have a place to visit if I feel it's necessary. I've also been wanting to plant a dogwood tree outside of my office window, so that's the plan for this weekend.
This is a deeply personal choice, and please don't feel swayed one way or the other, but for me, the emotional and mental pain was enough for me to carry without the waiting for the physical. I woke up at about 4:00 this morning in tears thinking they were wrong and I should have asked for that ultrasound, but I saw it. The shape was wrong, there was no blood flow, and no flicker like I had seen the first time. I guess this is that denial part of the greiving process.
Prayers and hugs to all of you!
I don't want to be an advocate, or encourage anyone to go this route if that's not what they want to do. But I wanted to share my experience at least from a physical perspective so that you would at least have some first hand information to reflect on in your decision making process. The worst part of the day (outside of knowing why I was there) was the waiting.
I had a D&C yesterday because the day before, after demanding an appointment to check spotting I'd had for about 2 weeks, we found that the baby hadn't grown since my last U/S at 6w5d, and there was no heartbeat. At the time, I told the doctor I wanted to think about it for a couple of days before making any decisions, so she gave me the lowdown on what to expect should this happen on it's own as it likely could since it had been over 2 weeks (I should have been 9w4d at my appointment on Monday.)
I had an appointment with the same doctor yesterday morning at 8:20 to go over the consent forms, expected outcome, etc. My husband took the day off to be with me, and of course, because someone has to drive you home. We arrived at the office at about 8:10 thinking that I would be going straight in for the procedure as well since the dr. had said the day before she would "tentatively" schedule me, but if I chose to cancel, that was ok too. I sat in the waiting room for a good hour, all the cute pregnant women coming in announcing they were there for an ultrasound with the same gleam in their eyes I had had just a couple of weeks ago. That was almost the toughest part of the day. When the doctor finally called me back at 9:00 (40 mins late) I was so sad, and cried through most of the visit. She then told me that surgery was scheduled for 2:00, meaning I have to be back at 12:30 and needed to have some pre-op blood work done in the lab of the connecting hospital before I left in the morning. Another waiting room, but this time mostly filled with new moms and their new babies, all sharing labor and delivery stories, comparing lack of sleep stories, etc. After the lady drew my blood, more tears, and all I could say was that I was sorry - that it wasn't due to her poking me, it was why I was there in the first place. I walked out of the room and didn't even look at my husband, just headed for the door and he completely understood what I was saying.
We came home after that, about 10:30 at this point, and just waited for 12:00 to head back for the procedure. We sat on our back deck and talked about all of this quite a bit. Should I ask for another ultrasound first just to be sure? Do we want to ask for the baby's remains to have a private burial? Why was this happening to us? Why does it happen to so many women? Is it our food supply, the water, the air?
At 12:00, we left to go back to the hospital, and when we got there, they immediately called me back and said they would call my husband back to sit with me after I was prepped. Prepped in this case apparently meant asking me if there was any domestic violence. When I said no, they brought him back. We were in one of probably 10-12 private little rooms with a recliner, two chairs (which my husband said were the most uncomfortable chairs known to man), several machines, and a TV. They had me change, hooked up IV fluids, and no less than 8 people (nurses, bereavement counselers, anesthesiologists, etc.) came in over the next few hours, every one of them starting with "I'm so sorry this is how we are meeting" and me crying with each introduction. At 1:50, I headed to the bathroom for what I thought was my last time as the D&C was scheduled for 2:00. I don't know if it was the full bag of fluids I had absorbed by now or what, but now I was bleeding.
As a side note - I was told not to eat the evening before which I was actually ok with as I wasn't really interested in food after the prior day, and my husband being the wonderful man that he is didn't want to eat in front of me, so he asked the nurses if there would be a window of opportunity for him to grab some food. They said the procedure would take about 30 mins, the doctor would want to find him to let him know how it went, and then he would have an hour or so while I was in recovery. So it sounded like by 2:30 or so, he'd be able to finally eat. He's not a happy man when he's hungry - and honestly, I think when his blood sugar drops, it's physical for him.
2:00 came and went. 2:30 came and went, 3:00, the anesthesiologist comes in and asks if I'd like something for my nerves, to which I said of course, but I hadn't met the doctor yet, and he said he needed to wait for that. He also explained that I could opt for local anesthesia only if I wanted, but he suggested general. I don't know why, but the thing about general anesthesia that freaks me out is the possibility of a tube down my throat, and he said there would be a tube, but not in my windpipe, just kind of laying against my tongue to ensure I was getting oxygen. I went for the general - I didn't want to feel or remember a thing.
I saw a woman I thought might be the doctor appear in the hallway several times, but she never came in. Finally, around 3:30, she stuck her head in, introduced herself, and asked if I had any questions. I was so angry at this point - though I tried really hard not to be. For her to be running behind I thought, something must have gone wrong in an earlier procedure. But I was pissed. I only responded, "It's not like I'm waiting for a pedicure here, I just want to get this show on the road. Waiting is what I was trying to avoid." About 10 mins later, the anesthesiologist and a nurse show up with a wheelchair and a syringe - I sat in the wheelchair and the anesthesiologist says "you'll be really high in about 30 seconds." He wasn't kidding!
We get to the OR, they have me step into the bed, start putting EKG sticker thingies on me, said goodnight, and I was out. Next thing I know, a nurse is rubbing my hand, the anesthesiologist is waking me up and saying "you bit your lip when I pulled the tube out, so that's gonna hurt" and he was right - ouch. At that point, that hurt worse than anything else. There looked to be about 12 people in the room, and within 30 seconds, it was me and two nurses and I was bawling. They took me to recovery, where they had told me to expect about an hour, but it seemed like I was only in there for about 1/2 hour. They then took me back out to the place where my husband and I were at the beginning, and the nurse went to find him who had told him to go eat - no more waiting, she would find him when it was over. He had just gotten his food, and I was in the clear to eat a little, which they actually make you do before you can leave. So I had my pretzels and Sierra Mist and some of his chicken tenders and french fries. I had to show them I could pee, and then we could go if I was feeling steady on my feet. Went to the bathroom, nurse saw what she had to see, I changed, but we still hadn't seen the doctor to tell us (actually, was supposed to tell my husband while I was still in recovery) so we had to wait. Finally, about 20 mins later, she popped her head in, said there were no complications, and we were out of there. It's now 5:30.
We stopped at CVS to get a prescription filled, and I felt some cramping, but nothing major. I got some Therma Care menstrual patches and a book, and we came home. I called my mom, messaged with you all for a bit, watched some TV, ate a grilled cheese, and laid on the couch. Other than some light cramps, I was feeling ok, and I hadn't bled alot, so I changed to a panty liner instead of the matress they had me use and put on some old pants just in case, Around 9:00, I started feeling like things were wearing off a bit, so I took 1/2 of a Vicodin (only prescribed because they kept saying Advil and ibuprofen doesn't agree with my stomach) and went to bed.
I've been up for a couple of hours now, and physically, I do feel OK. A little cramping, and my damn lip hurts, but other than that, physically ok.
This was the right choice for me. The pain of waiting it out, and possibly seeing the baby myself was just too much for me to bear. Incidentally, we did opt for burial, but through a local funeral home that does a mass burial of babies lost this way for free, and the service will be in June. My baby will be in a casket with other babies that share this awful outcome, but I will have a place to visit if I feel it's necessary. I've also been wanting to plant a dogwood tree outside of my office window, so that's the plan for this weekend.
This is a deeply personal choice, and please don't feel swayed one way or the other, but for me, the emotional and mental pain was enough for me to carry without the waiting for the physical. I woke up at about 4:00 this morning in tears thinking they were wrong and I should have asked for that ultrasound, but I saw it. The shape was wrong, there was no blood flow, and no flicker like I had seen the first time. I guess this is that denial part of the greiving process.
Prayers and hugs to all of you!
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