February 23, 2010

The Worst Day

"The doctor will be in shortly to explain everything to you. I'm so very sorry."
The sentence that I will never forget.
I hear it in the nurse's voice everyday.
There have been nights where I have heard that sentence screaming at me until I wake up.
February 23, 2006.
Four years ago today.
The anniversary of the worst day of my life.
I was pregnant.
The Girl had just turned 2.
I was complaining to Hubby that my maternity pants were too snug.
He laughed and patted my belly.
We were in the exam room.
All 3 of us.
We were going to find out the baby's gender.
We discussed names.
We laughed.
We had no idea that was going to be the last time we were going to laugh for months.
During the appointment, the nurse said she couldn't hear a heartbeat.
Crazy doppler wasn't working.
Damn batteries.
We moved into the ultrasound room to use the doppler there.
Hmm...another doppler low in batteries.
I loathed whoever was in charge of changing the batteries.
The beautiful heartbeat I had heard a few weeks before was all I wanted to hear.
The nurse got the doctor and said they would proceed with the ultrasound.
"Afterall, what's better than hearing it, but seeing it, right?!"
Her perky voice didn't calm me.
I was starting to panic.
I didn't realize I was so upset until the doctor handed me a tissue and said, "Don't freak out just yet. Give me a minute."
I looked at the screen and had no idea what she was seeing.
Her face turned up into a ball and all I could see were wrinkles and the look of worry.
"I'm not seeing what I think I should be seeing, so we're just going to make you an emergency ultrasound appointment over at the hospital. No need to worry yet. Let's get you guys to someone over there right away."
I don't know what happened after that, except telling the nurse at the nurse's station, "NO, I DO NOT WANT TO SCHEDULE MY NEXT APPOINTMENT!"
We stopped and got gas.
Hubby bought me a bottle of water.
We drove for a half hour in silence.
Until we hit traffic.
He turned to me and said, "Everything will be okay."
Comforting except that he is usually wrong.
He was trying to be brave for me and The Girl.
His mom met us at the hospital and took The Girl home with her.
We waited.
In a waiting room full of pregnant, happy, women.
I started crying.
Everything was a blur and I left the little room to breathe.
What was taking so long?
Hubby couldn't come with me.
Because hospitals have a cruel way of tearing apart the only thing that can help you cope in situations like that.
I was on my back in a dark room.
I peeked at the screen.
She moved the monitor.
"Why can't I see?"
"Policy. Just another minute."
I noticed the ultrasound technician was pregnant.
"Your husband can come in if you'd like to go get him."
"Why? Is the baby okay?"
I motioned him in the room while asking the above question.
He joined me.
"The doctor will be in shortly to explain everything to you. I'm so very sorry."
I started shaking. I'm pretty sure I screamed. I cried like I have never cried in my life.
Hubby cried.
We cried together.
The doctor came in. He was wearing a long white coat and had white hair.
He asked routine questions.
Questions that made me hate myself for feeling normal and not knowing a thing.
He told me miscarriages were common.
Not at 22 years old.
Not after a healthy pregnancy and delivery.
Not in your second trimester.
We may never know answers.
He said I could go straight in for a D&C.
Hubby asked if there were other options.
He said I could take medication that would induce labor at home.
"The baby is so small that you wouldn't notice anything but what I already mentioned."
Hubby asked detailed questions.
The doctor assured him that it was safe to do everything at home.
He went into detail.
It sounded horrific.
Hubby said, "If there's a chance we will see the baby by doing it at home, and there is no chance we would see the baby by sending her to surgery, then I want us to get the medication."
I was supposed to work the next day.
I did home childcare.
Hubby called them and told them the news while I waited in the pharmacy.
He called family members.
I sobbed.
In the pharmacy.
Waiting for pills that were said to cause my body pain and trauma.
Pills that I later became ridiculously thankful for.
While getting my prescription the pharmacist said, "Umm, wait. These are usually for miscarriages."
She stared at my belly.
I sobbed.
She didn't say anything else.
We picked up The Girl.
I talked to my mom on my cell phone while Hubby went into his mom's house.
My mom sobbed.
She told me, "The baby is now our little angel in Heaven."
Hubby's mom came outside.
The amount of tears shed was astounding.
We went home.
The Girl went to bed.
We held her.
I took the pills.
We held each other in bed.
He kissed my belly.
We sobbed.
I prayed.
He eventually fell asleep.
Holding my hand.
The worst day of my life, and only the beginning of the story.

...to be continued...


  1. Sitting here with tears streaming down my face. I'm glad it looks like you had another child. Miscarriage runs very heavily in my family, I was lucky enough to escape it, but every time I read something like this it hits very close to home. Thank you for sharing. I'll be back to hear the rest when continued.

  2. I am so sorry Kimmie. I am so sorry for that day. For the hole that that day ripped in your lives. The anniversary. Praying for you.

  3. I am so sorry. Thank you for being so brave to share your story. xoxo

  4. I can not imagine the pain and sadness this week every year brings you. I am so sorry for all you are going through. My prayers, thoughts, and hugs are with you, my good friend. Your little sweet heart is smiling down at you from heaven....<3 u all, Tab

  5. Thank you for sharing your story. I cannot even begin to imagine what you went through. You inspire me, along with all the many women that have been through this kind of loss. It makes me want to try harder and hold onto what I have a little stronger. I will continue to pray for you. Thank you for taking the big step to share your story. It gives me courage to do the same, but I don't think I can do it for everyone else to read, just for me for now, and others later:)

  6. Okay, I kept reading.

    I absolutely can not imagine what that would have been like to go through. Can. not. imagine. But, I am so very sorry! You are too strong, and very amazing for being able to tell your story! Such a horrible horrible thing to have to go through. <3 Strong thoughts for you, love!


  7. i am sitting here balling my eyes out from this post!!! So very sad!

  8. You story made me cry and hurt right along with you. Thank you for sharing your story. I know that it will bring comfort to other women who are struggling with the same thing.

  9. I am so sorry Kimmie.
    I can not even begin to imagine that pain.
    Praying for a day filled with joy with your two beautiful children here with you and your sweet angel in heaven.

  10. Oh, honey. I don't even know you, but I am crying my eyes out for you. What horried pain. What devastating loss. I walked through the dark valley of miscarriage with my best friend in September. There is nothing to compare to the depth of that grief. She said she felt like her body was a coffin, that what was supposed to be the safest place on earth somehow became dangerous.

    Losing a child is a pain that is never dulled.

    And now the car wreck? Sheesh.

    I just prayed for your protection.

    Maybe this is arrogant, and I certainly don't know if this will help at all, but here's my post from when I was with my friend during her miscarriage. No gory miscarriage details, just some comfort and processing of emotions...



  11. I am so sorry for your loss, Kimmie. Big hugs to you and your family!

  12. I'm sorry sweet girl. If you ever need someone to cry to or be sad with you, let me know hun....

  13. I sobbed reading this. My cousin went through this and it was so sooo hard to watch her go through this.

  14. wow. so heartbreaking. your story made me feel like i was there with you.

  15. I cannot imagine how terribly painful this was. I don't know why bad things like this happen. One day we will understand more. For now, tears for you, my dear. Tears from a mother who knows that this is a pregnant woman's worst fear. And prayers that God will comfort you, still today.


  16. Just came across your story. Your an amazing and strong woman. Miscarriage is not an easy topic to talk about. You'll always hold your little baby in your heart! And will always have an angle watching over you!

  17. I had asked, a couple of weeks ago, in a message, what our most personal posts were, and you shared this one. I'm so sorry it took me so long to read this, because it is so heartfelt, so honest, so raw. I can't imagine how hard it was to type this out, let alone how challenging the experience was. I'm so sorry that you had to go through so much pain and trauma. I want to thank you, though, for sharing this, because I know there have probably been other women who have stumbled across this post and have read it and taken comfort in it. They probably experienced a similar loss and were looking for some sort of comfort. I'm sure, even now, that that date is always remembered by you. However, I also hope that you and your husband have been blessed with many happy moments since that time.