By Jerrica Babb
I was really hoping I would never have to write out my feelings about a miscarriage again. But, here we are.
On September 11, 2017, after an intense conversation with my husband, I took a pregnancy test and found out we were expecting again. I remember going into the living room, with the test in hand, and telling Austin we were pregnant. I had a smile on my face and he looked unsure. All I remember before starting to cry, was asking him if it was okay to be excited about this. We cried and hugged and tried to wrap our heads around going through another pregnancy.
Being cautiously optimistic, we started to tell some family and close friends. After our first pregnancy loss, a friend told me about some of her friends that have gone through losses as well, and instead of hiding their pregnancies, they’ve decided to tell people right away. That way if something does happen, they have a support system. I agreed with this completely. I didn’t want to hide our pregnancy and I didn’t want to lie to everyone about how I was feeling if something were to go wrong again.
Towards the end of September, I started spotting some on a Saturday. I was terrified all weekend and got into the doctor first thing on Monday morning for blood work. We went in, and spent all of 5 minutes at the clinic, got blood drawn, and was told they’d call us later in the day. Needless to say, I took the rest of the day off. They called back that afternoon and said everything looked fine, but they wanted me to come in for an ultrasound on Wednesday.
On Wednesday, September 27th, we walked into the doctor’s office expecting the worst. Boy were we shocked. We started the ultrasound and the tech said, “there’s the heartbeat.” I lost it. I couldn’t stop smiling at Austin and crying. Then she said, “I have other news.” The rollercoaster of emotions my heart was going through this morning was ridiculous. “Do you have a history of twins in either of your families?” Apparently asking her if she’s fucking joking is not the right thing to ask someone. “We don’t joke around about multiples.” She finished up the exam and said they were both measuring right, but one’s heartbeat was a little slower than they’d like. We all chalked it up to the twins being only 6 weeks old. They’d only just begun to develop a heartbeat, so of course they’d be slower.
With twins, there is more of risk of losing one or both of them, so they wanted to keep a close eye on us. I was under strict orders not to do any heavy lifting or strenuous activities. We needed to come back in on October 6th for a follow up ultrasound to be sure the babies were growing as they should be. As you’ve probably deduced from this writing, they weren’t. I was so hopeful going into that doctor’s appointment. I could feel them growing. My nausea was worse than our first pregnancy, my boobs hurt, and I was miserable. They were supposed to be okay.
I don’t remember anything the tech said that day. I don’t remember the wording she used. All I know is that she said that they didn’t grow. At that point, I was crying too hard to really comprehend anything that was happening. I just wanted that damn wand out of me and to go home and not think about anything.
We were taken into an exam room and told that it was probably going to be about an hour until a midwife could be in to talk to us. We were both antsy as hell and just wanted out of there. We did luck out though, and the midwife who spoke to us after our first miscarriage came in about 15 minutes later to cry with us again. She spoke to us about our options. I didn’t want to do the D&C again since we had finally just paid off the first one. We decided to do it at home instead.
In hindsight, miscarrying at home was not better. There’s no good way to do this. It was exponentially cheaper though. My first round of pills at home did not work. The clinic recommended waiting about 5 days to see if anything happened, and when it didn’t, they prescribed another round of stronger pills. Those did work. About 2 hours after inserting them, the bleeding began. Nothing prepares you for the feeling when the clots begin to leave you. I was so happy Austin hadn’t gone to work yet at that point. I could feel them leaving and I broke down. It’s awful. There’s no way to describe it. It’s painful and scary and made it all very real.
My babies are gone. We were terrified to raise you but so, so excited to meet you. I dreamed of your matching outfits and built in friendship. I imagined having to split you up in school to keep from torturing your teachers. I pictured everything. I wanted you both so desperately. I’m sorry we’ll never get to meet either of you.
Our midwife in Colorado recommends that we meet with a doctor to discuss genetic testing before trying again. I need to know why getting pregnant is not a problem, but our babies can’t keep growing. I’ve lost three babies now. I need to know why. Keep your fingers crossed for us that we can get some answers soon.
When You're Not Sure What To Say 