The Sight of Blood

I'm not fainting; I'm terrified.

After my emergency room miscarriage in December I'd been anxious to get my body healthier and back on a normal schedule. I started making some big changes to my diet in late December as part of my “get healthier” goal. I don't do new year's resolutions because to me they've always seemed like well-intentioned empty promises. The irony that I made this big change in my life right before the new year is definitely not lost on me, but it was important enough that I dedicated myself to it.

I didn't know how long it would take for my cycle to return, and I decided I'd just be patient and not worry about it. I also decided not to worry about getting pregnant or preventing pregnancy. I wanted to focus on taking better care of myself so I could be a better wife, a better mom, a better me. I wanted to have more energy, to be physically strong and well, and to be happy. I also wanted to make sure that my body would be better prepared for carrying a baby to term when the time was right.

As time passed I realized it had been over a month since the miscarriage and I wondered when my body would resume it's regular cycle. I talked with a friend who'd had a miscarriage about month before my latest one, and we talked about cycles and feelings and everything that comes with the territory. It was really nice to have someone in a similar situation to talk with and share these things.

That very afternoon it came. There was blood, and I felt a sense of relief come over me. I wasn't pregnant, and I was fine with that. I was getting my period, which meant my body was getting back to normal, and hopefully a healthier normal. What I didn't expect was the feelings that would come over me the next day.

The bleeding started out dark brown, like old blood, and gradually became brighter and heavier. As time went on, over the period of a day, my anxiety levels gradually rose. I almost didn't notice it at first. A post I wrote about my miscarriage happened to publish on my blog that day and I read it and relived some of the memories and feelings from it. Every time I went to use the bathroom I had to face the blood, and I found myself absorbed in it. I was checking for clots, examining the color, the thickness, the texture (yes, I touched it), and the smell. You read that right, I smelled it. I wanted to be sure of what my body was doing.

I was exhausted and having cramps, which isn't typical for me during menstruation. The cramping hurt worse on one side than the other, and I found myself panicking. I even called my midwife to ask if the one-sided pain was normal. She told me not to worry, and to put on a heating pad and rest. That was exactly what I wanted to do, and I did.

In the back of my mind I couldn't get the thought out of my head that maybe I'd unintentionally become pregnant again and was having yet another miscarriage, or worse an ectopic pregnancy. While possible, this was unlikely. I kept telling myself that this was just my body getting back into a healthy rhythm and it was a good thing, but I couldn't quite make myself believe it.

I thought I'd been doing so well until that point. I'd coped with my loss primarily through writing and sharing my story, and I'd managed to pull myself out of a deep depression and started making positive changes in my life. I'd been feeling better until this slapped me in the face.

It made me realize how vulnerable we are as women, and even as human beings. We can't just go through something difficult and traumatic and expect to move on without any repercussions. Things impact us on an emotional level and they don't just go away. It reminds me of a book I read years ago called Feelings Buried Alive Never Die. It taught me that we have to face and deal with our feelings in order to properly process them and grow from them in positive ways. When we try to bury or hide our feelings they don't really go away. They can pop back up at any point and rear their ugly heads.

I don't think I was necessarily burying my feelings after my miscarriage, but I think that grieving happens in stages and waves. I think I was dealing with my loss as well as I could, and I've had to peel back the layers of emotions that are there. I'm pretty sure I'm not done grieving, but I think that's OK. I feel like this is part of my healing, as hard and debilitating as it can be at times, and that it's important to honor myself and my feelings and face them head on.

So this is me, right here and right now, facing them.

The Roller Coaster: Break Down

This is the fifth post in a special bi-weekly series.  It's a sequel to The Longest Weekend of My Life series.  Please check back next Wednesday for Part 6.

Part 5: Break Down

I was still bleeding on Saturday, still less than a normal period. The cramping had stopped the night before, but I had gone to bed with a migraine and slept fitfully, and the migraine was there to greet me in the morning.  Not wanting to take medication for it, I focused on eating well and trying to nourish my body's needs in any way I could think to. Along with the migraine, I was grumpy. My kids were also in bad moods, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check as I fed everyone breakfast and dealt with trying to get them to do their chores.

I had to sit and quiet myself to help soothe the baby. As I rocked him I felt emotions rising within me. I realized it had been a full week since this whole ordeal had started with the pelvic pain and the trip to Instacare. I realized It had also been about that long since I had cried.

That's when the tears came.

Soft, yet painful, aching tears.

I started praying out loud in an effort to get all of my feelings out of my head and try to make sense of things.

I didn't know how to feel, how to be.

It had been such a strange combination of symptoms, and it felt like a physical and emotional roller coaster. First, the severe pelvic pain, without bleeding. The discovery of the pregnancy coupled with the warning that it might not be viable. The confusion and tears followed by peace. The yearning and searching for answers where there were none to be found. Calm acceptance of whatever would be. The pain had gone completely and I'd allowed myself to feel hopeful, even joyful and elated about the future. I had calculated the due date and dared to imagine our family with a new baby, only to start bleeding and have those hopes virtually ripped to shreds.

What was I feeling? There was anger, even rage, and I found myself unable to keep my emotions under control when faced with any kind of challenge. I threw an adult temper tantrum, throwing things and yelling at the top of my lungs at my children who were refusing to clean their room. Where did that come from? Did they deserve that? No. But I didn't care. Maybe it bought me some time. I wanted to crawl into some obscure hole and hide from my family and the rest of the world, so I couldn't be a danger to anyone but myself. I needed time and space to figure things out, but I didn't know I could possibly get enough, or how or if I ever would figure this out.

I got the baby down for a nap, and I closed myself in a dark room.

I cried. Hard, painful, sobbing tears that shook my body.

For several minutes as I cried, I couldn't speak. I just let the tears flow. When I could speak, I prayed out loud, this time more fervently, more passionately. I begged for comfort. I asked forgiveness for treating my children badly. I explained how I felt and how conflicted I'd been. I had to stop between phrases as more ugly tears would wrack my body. It felt good to let it out.

I realized while praying that I wouldn't know the answers or the end result. It wasn't for me to know whether the pregnancy would last or not. But I could ask for help, comfort, peace, sustaining. It was for me to decide how I would bear this burden and to do it with as much grace as I possibly could. I needed more faith, and I asked for support and help in moving forward the best I could. I asked that I would be able to take care of my family and myself, and as I prayed the tears softened and slowed. I ended my prayer feeling exhausted, but calm. The fear and the anger were gone.

I'm sure my children had heard my sobbing. They'd been in the room on the other side of the door, and as they heard my muffled cries and prayers they had decided to do what I'd asked them to do and work on their bedroom. They were excited to show me what they'd accomplished while I'd been feeling sorry for myself, and it was refreshing to see them cooperating with each other and eager to please. I thought maybe I should have an emotional breakdown more often...

The sadness lingered, and I occasionally found myself sitting at my desk with my head in my hands. My children each came to me at various times and placed their hand on my arm or shoulder, or gave me a hug. My little girl repeatedly walked over to me and tenderly brushed my arm. I knew they felt at least a little bit of what I felt, and they wanted me to feel better. Even though they didn't understand what I was going through, they understood that I needed their comfort. I was grateful for it.

Part 1: Looking Up

Part 2: Seeing Red

Part 3: Malaise

Part 4: Possibilities

Part 5: Break Down

Part 6: Support

Part 7: Perspective

Part 8: Normal?

Part 9: Hindsight

Part 10: Shift

Part 11: Empty

The Longest Weekend of My Life: Writing and Reading

This is the sixth post in a special bi-weekly series.  Please check back next Wednesday for Part 7

Part 6: Writing and Reading

As I was lying in bed Sunday night about to fall asleep my mind was flooded with information and I felt the impression "write". Words were flooding my mind, descriptions of what I'd been going through over the past few days, and I knew I needed to write about it all. I prayed saying I was so tired and asked if I could just sleep, and I fell asleep. Something awoke me at 6:30 Saturday morning and the impression came: "get up and write".

I sat at the computer and typed, and the words flowed effortlessly from my mind to my fingers and onto the computer screen as I wrote this. It was therapeutic, and I felt I should share it with others. The only problem was there was no ending. No resolution.

On Monday I found the card from the hospital lab on the floor with some baby bite marks on the corners, and I decided to call for my initial blood test results. I was pleasantly surprised to find out they also had the results from the second blood test. They told me my hCG level on Saturday was 471, and on Sunday it was 835. I didn't know what the numbers themselves meant, so I decided to call Instacare to get the doctor's interpretation. The nurse told me the doctor hadn't seen the test results yet and would need to call me back after he'd had a chance to look at my file. It was a different doctor than the one I'd seen over the weekend, since the other doctor had been a resident who was filling in for one of the regular doctors.

While waiting for a call back, I decided to do some online research. Since I'd never previously had any reason to do research on hCG levels during early pregnancy I honestly knew nothing about it. I found that in 85% of pregnancies hCG levels will double every 2 to 3 days. Based on the numbers the lab gave me, I became more optimistic than I'd been in 3 days.

I also learned other interesting things like how hCG helps maintain corpus luteum, which is responsible for progesterone production in early pregnancy, which in turn helps keep the lining of the uterus nice and thick for a healthy pregnancy. I remembered the ultrasound technician muttering something about seeing evidence of corpus luteum, but at the time I'd had no idea what that meant. That understanding helped me feel even more optimistic that my pregnancy was in fact healthy.

When the Instacare office called me back, the nurse relayed the doctor's prognosis. She told me that my hormone levels are apparently multiplying at a good rate, but with the inconclusive ultrasound there's no way to completely rule out an ectopic pregnancy. She said the doctor recommended that I follow up with my primary care physician or obstetrician in the next few days.

I was upset. I didn't know whether to call my former obstetrician's office or to try to find a new doctor. My obstetrician was always good to me in the past, but during my last pregnancy I wasn't up-front about my plans for a home birth, and I clashed with the nurse-practitioner when I declined the gestational diabetes screening. I worried about any negative backlash I might face if I were to go back to that same office, and whether or not they would work with me in getting the care I desired.

I didn't know what to do next.

Part 1: Preface

Part 2: Bittersweet

Part 3: Numb

Part 4: Peace

Part 5: Waiting
Part 7: Decisions

The Longest Weekend of My Life: Numb

Due to reader request, the Saturday series is now a bi-weekly series, published each Wednesday and Saturday. This is the third post the series.  Please check back next Saturday for Part 4.

Part 3: Numb

Wait, back up. What?

I knew what ectopic pregnancy was, and I certainly had never imagined it would ever be something I would experience. I'd never had any reproductive issues in my life, and I'd always been very grateful for that. I'd even felt guilty for that in the past as I'd watched friends and family struggle with infertility problems and pregnancy complications. I don't pretend to understand God's will and purpose for each individual. I just know that each of us has our own struggles, and comparing them with the trials of another person usually only serves to evoke more questions and lead to feelings of discontent.

I felt numb. I didn't want or need to ask any questions, so I just listened to the doctor. She recommended having an ultrasound to check where the embryo had formed, whether it was in the uterus where it should be, or somewhere else like the fallopian tubes or ovaries. Since their office didn't have an ultrasound machine she had her nurse schedule an appointment at the hospital at 4:00 pm. I had enough time to go home and talk with my husband.

I came home to find that the baby had been crying most of the time I'd been gone, and I felt bad that my husband hadn't been able to get out of bed to help him. I was grateful to my oldest son for helping to comfort his little brother, even if it had been between playing levels on a computer game.

I didn't know what to say to my husband. I considered trying to be funny by saying something like “Well, we can have unprotected sex as often as we want to!”... I wasn't feeling very funny.

I walked into our bedroom, closed the door, sat on the bed, and told my husband what had happened and what I'd been told. Neither of us knew what to say, and we both let the feelings of shock and bewilderment settle in. How are you supposed to handle such news? You're pregnant, but you may lose it.

We both felt afraid to be excited about the pregnancy because of the possibility of what we might be going through if it did in fact turn out to be ectopic. My husband asked “If it turns out to be tubal, do we have to... terminate?” I said “I think so”, and we cried together. I only hoped that the ultrasound would show something conclusive so we wouldn't have to wait for confirmation one way or another. I continued to pray in my heart that all would work out, and that the medical professionals who were helping us would be guided to find the right answers for us.


Part 1: Preface
Part 2: Bittersweet
Part 4: Peace

Part 5: Waiting

Part 6: Writing and Reading

Part 7: Decisions

Recommended Breathing Techniques for Labor & Childbirth

Focused breathing helps a woman work with her body to birth her baby. In my 3 unmedicated births I have used focused deep breathing, in which I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth. As the contractions grow more intense, I give my breath a voice by moaning as I exhale. Giving your breath a voice is both comforting and empowering. It works wonders, and I recommend it for every woman, whether or not she plans to have medication during labor. It's a good idea to practice breathing throughout pregnancy. It helps relieve stress and prepares you for labor.

The following breathing techniques are also recommended for childbirth. I haven't tried these specific techniques, but many women have found them to be helpful during labor.

"There are three kinds of breathing exercises that you will want to practice during the last weeks of pregnancy and use during the first stage of labor. These are variations on the classic Lamaze-prepared childbirth breathing.

• The deep cleansing breath. This is a simple breath. Sit with your spine comfortably straight. Put your hands on your abdomen. Slowly inhale as you watch your belly rise. Slowly exhale. Let out a sound as you exhale. Use this deep cleansing breath at the beginning of each contraction to help focus you and then begin the chu-chu or moan-pant.
• The chu-chu breath. This breath begins to sound like a steam engine chugging along. Inhale and exhale slowly, then quicker and quicker. Breathe at a pace that parallels your contraction. Use this breath with early contractions. Some women prefer to go directly to the moan-pant.
• The moan-pant. Begin using this breathing technique when you’re afraid you can’t stay on top of the contractions—when the big waves come and you just need to stay in the present moment—and use through the delivery, if you like. The moan-pant consists of three or four rhythmic pants followed by one blow, which can be a real release. As labor progresses and you get more focused, you can turn the pants into moans, and even into sounds that feel like singing."

As published in Mother Magazine: Body Wise: breathing exercises in labor