I've been Avoiding

My therapist wants me to write about my miscarriage experience. I have mild post traumatic stress disorder. When I think about that day the bloody scene in the bathroom at the hospital flashes through my head and bothers me greatly. So here it goes my miscarriage story:

I had gotten my flu shot on Tuesday and began to spot lightly about 3 hours later. I called the doctors office on Wednesday just for peace of mind. I was 11 weeks pregnant and told that spotting is normal at that point in pregnancy and the flu shot connection was only a coincidence. As the week went on my spotting continued and I thought nothing of it. On Saturday I start mild cramping. Still not really thinking much of it. Sunday I just felt someone wasn't right the cramping got much worse I called the doctor's office to talk to the on call person. I was told that it sounded like I was miscarrying and if I began to bleed so heavy that I filled more than two pads an hour I should go to the ER. Never did I expect what was about to happen to me.

I was sitting on the couch when I felt the rush of blood. I went to the bathroom sat on the toilet and just began to cry I was loosing very large amounts of blood and tissue more like about 2 pads worth every 10 mins. I sat on the toilet until my husband arrived at home to take me to the ER. On the way to the ER I bleed trough my clothes. I was so very freaked out.

I arrived at the ER walking in funny because blood was running down my leg. My husband went to park the car. The lady sat me in a wheelchair and I waiting to see the intake person. I wait and bled in the chair. I got to see the intake person she started asking me standard questions name, address, etc. I said I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood and tissue she responded your communicating just fine. The snack man came around and she was more interested in getting her twizzlers than doing my intake. I was starting to think I was in another land and wondering is this normal? She then got cold and asked her boss if she could turn up the heat all the time I'm sitting there bleeding out. I thought to myself is this really happening. Twizzler and Heat are more important than a miscarrying patient. On top of everything the woman was the slowest typist I'd ever seen (in the ER really?) So I expressed to her again. I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood and tissue. Her response oh do you need to change your pad. Let me get you a volunteer. (I was just thinking remain calm because I wanted to make sure I got good treatment and if I had gotten hysterical I was afraid it would delay things). So a volunteer with two tiny pads wheels me into the public bathroom of the waiting room of the ER. I continued to think is this really happening to me? I felt like I was in some kind of weird movie. So I'm in one of the stalls of the public ER bathroom and as I move from the chair to the toilet and pull down my pants there is a large splash. Blood is on me, the floor, the walls, the toilet. I was more freaked out about the amount of blood in that moment than I was about the fact that I was miscarrying. This is the picture that flashes though my head when I think of that day. It was like a horror movie scene with the amount of blood.

The volunteer now realizes the seriousness of my situation. She is praying over me which I found comforting. She went and got some nurses. She looked at the pads and said I don't think these will work. So I strip down in the public stall in the bathroom they give me gowns to put on and put down a large diaper on the wheel chair. I am then wheeled through the waiting room of the ER crying with blood everywhere and in gowns. I just couldn't believe it. I then hear them over the loud speaker say several times about the clean up needed in the bathroom and I apologized for the mess. I was so embarrassed.

At this point the most traumatic physical part of things is over. I'm put on a bed with lots of large pads laid out. But what I didn't understand was why I was left to just sit in my own blood and feeling the tissue my body kept passing. It's so hard to understand. So as you can guess I needed a D&C. My doctor who did it was wonderful and made sure that I knew it was not my vault there was nothing I did wrong. I really liked the way it said things though I can't remember exact wording.

I did have to stay overnight. No big deal however I was surprised when I left the hospital the nurse said to me are you ok. I said I'm as well as can be expected. I was sent home with no information or support on what I was about to go through emotionally.

That is where this part of the story ends and the rest of this blogging begins. My journey to emotional healing.