We landed in Mexico on October 12, one day before our wedding guests would begin to arrive. Less than an hour after sharing the news with my mom, I realized I had bled through my pants at the grocery store. We were on the way to the hotel to check in but our room wasn’t ready. Kevin and I went to the hotel bathroom and tried figuring out our next steps. I was an emotional and physical mess. I began calling random OB/GYNs in the Monterrey area. Through sobs, I was able to reach a secretary who immediately handed the phone to the doctor (this would NEVER happen in the US). The doctor instructed that I go to the nearest ER. She was at her practice which was further out but said she would meet me at the ER closest to me. Fortunately, my grandmother lives a few blocks from the hotel and has a full-time nurse. We were going to share the news about our pregnancy with her over dinner, but instead, I called her in a panic and asked if her nurse could take us to the ER. Within a few minutes, we were on the way.
It took the doctor a while to get to the ER but we were so grateful that we had found this doctor and kept comparing this experience to what it would have been like in the US. When the doctor arrived, I very vividly remember the minute between her inserting the transvaginal ultrasound wand and her telling me that the baby was fine. Within a few seconds, we were able to not only hear the heartbeat, but we could also physically see it pumping. Kevin, my mom, and I felt immense relief. The doctor did not mention that she thought I was miscarrying and instead prescribed progesterone injections and pills. I thought the worst was behind us and felt ready to go into the weekend knowing we had a baby whose heart was strongly beating inside of me.
Over the next two days, I did not bleed during the day. We took this as a great sign. But I began to bleed during the evenings for about an hour. The bleeding would start right before each of our events. We had a dinner planned for Thursday and I began to bleed at the restaurant. We had a big welcome party on Friday and I started bleeding as I put on my white jumper. The doctor had said I would bleed for a few days so even though the bleeding shook me up each time, I was choosing to feel confident that this was all part of the process and that the baby was okay. Looking back now, I don’t know how I was able to so quickly shift from panicking in the bathroom to hosting events. However, if it wasn’t for this confidence, I don’t know how I would have been able to pull through. I can truly say that despite the circumstances, I was able to fully immerse myself in our wedding celebrations. I had also stopped bleeding the morning of our wedding. I thought this meant that we were no longer in any sort of danger.
We went on our honeymoon two days after the wedding. Kevin became my nurse and injected me with progesterone each night. I didn’t have any more miscarriage symptoms and we spent time intentionally being positive about the whole ordeal but at the same time, counting down the days until we got back to Austin so we could receive another confirmation from our OBGYN. However, on the last day of our honeymoon, we saw a picture on Instagram meant to inform people about what fetal tissue looks like at 7 weeks. It looked very much like what came out of me on the Friday before the wedding and we went down a rabbit hole. At that point we thought that a) I had already miscarried with no cramping and that is why I was no longer bleeding and b) It was just a clot, I was fine, the baby was fine, and we would see the heart again on Monday morning.
On our drive to the our appointment, we kept trying to stay as positive as possible. We met our doctor who we liked and talked to her about what we had experienced over the last two weeks. As soon as she inserted the wand, I had a small feeling something was wrong. At our ER visit, the baby was really easy to find. In this case, it took a few extra seconds for the doctor to say anything and then we got the news. The fetus did not have a heartbeat and was still implanted in my uterus. Based on its size, it looked like it had passed away two days prior- the day we flew back from our honeymoon. This was gut-wrenching. We were speechless. She said she was going to try again but was still unable to find the heartbeat. She left the room to give us a moment and I broke down in tears. I am a planner and I had plans for how this day would go, but I never imagined I would find out that I had had a missed miscarriage and that the baby was still inside of me. We were prepared for bad news and hopeful for good news, but even then, you never expect that you will be the receiver of bad news. The doctor came back in and as she was explaining our next steps, Kevin almost fainted. Our doctor had him sit down outside the room and she explained to me that this type of reaction is very common. Seeing Kevin like this was also heartbreaking.
Since I had had a missed miscarriage (my body still thought I was pregnant and was releasing pregnancy hormones), I was given two choices- a pill to induce the miscarriage -which based on information I gathered from friends, is extremely traumatic, and painful- and a D&C, which is extremely expensive even with our insurance. The D&C would remove most of the physical and emotional trauma. We decided pretty quickly that we would go the D&C route and got scheduled for Wednesday morning. For two days, I had to carry on with my life knowing that I was carrying a once living and thriving baby and that this baby was still inside of me. As silly as it sounds, I was hopeful that I would be in the 1-in-a-million case where before the D&C, the doctor finds a heartbeat. I didn’t tell Kevin I was hoping for this because I knew how illogical this sounded. As I was being wheeled out for surgery I asked my doctor if she had ever seen this happen. She said that in her 11 years of experience, she hadn’t.
Words can’t truly describe the feelings of sadness, disbelief, denial, emptiness, betrayal, and guilt that you feel upon learning that you have miscarried. Even now, over a week later, I still find myself hoping that this reality isn’t mine.
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