Miscarriage: A Bereaved Mothers Narrative
By: Paulina Slama
Tags: Pregnancy Loss, Miscarriage, Infertility, Family, Pregnancy

The beginning of my miscarriage started out as a nothing more than a precautionary measure to the OB triage. I wasn't worried, but this being my husbands first child, he insisted we go in for little peace of mind. As a mother to a 5 year old girl, I was a pro at handling minor inconveniences. We had just closed on our first home and the whole week I was using my new found second trimester energy to haul totes of the “little” stuff back and forth in my truck. The final night before the official moving truck came for the furniture, we had to take our daughter to spend two weeks with her father and his family. It was a hectic day that finally offered some much needed R&R at the end. So when we got back and I noticed the slight spotting, I thought to myself he was either growing or maybe I just overdid it a little and need to take it easy.

The OB triage confirmed my worry and sent us home a few hours later after detecting a very healthy heartbeat and little dehydration on my part. The follow up with my nurse practitioner said the same, but with some worry he was “a little low and cramped.” The cervix looked great though, and his heartbeat was still perfect. So as a precautionary measure we were sent to a Maternal Fetal doctor. Later I would find out that that’s doctor for when something’s wrong and the big guns need to come in.

As the couple days went by, I noticed the “leaking” didn't stop. A little mucus here, a little dab of blood there. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s nothing to worry about. This is nothing to worry about. I was taking it easy until the appointment but I knew something was off. My body suddenly became lethargic. Sleeping hurt, no matter what position I tried. Every time I would wake up to use the bathroom it was discharge, followed by an uncomfortable cramp. I needed to see that doctor. I needed to hear that I was overreacting. It was only two days between my OB and this new know-it-all doctor, but it felt like an eternity.

We walked into the the office, happy as could be to just be able to see him. During covid, my husband wasn't allowed to come for any visits aside from the ultrasounds, so to us the concern was a haze and we were just excited to see him. The nurse asked her 21 questions, to which I passed with flying colors. No family history of infertility, miscarriage's. No allergies. No history of birth defects. Fathers side has some heart issues. But hey, how do you not expect a little high blood pressure when he was raising three girls? My daughter was born at 34 weeks, but both the OB and I subtlety agreed it was because of an impromptu move to Denver at 7 months, and two excursions up the mountains that must've ruptured the membranes.

When the moment came to see our baby boy we just watched in awe. He went from a little floating raisin to having the cutest little nose. His legs were long, and those little feet were crisscrossed so adorably. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of drinking too much water for my urinalyses, so the tech made me go to the restroom to empty my bladder halfway through. I excitedly rushed, never minding the fluid leak and remaining as happy as could be. But as I rushed out for the rest of the show, she was no where to be found and my husband had a worried look on his face. Something was wrong. The doctor ordered more scans and a sonogram. We stayed hopeful, but the tech shifted her dialogue to anything other than the baby. I wanted to feel the same happiness but my husband and I both knew there was an issue.

After the hour long anatomy scan and sonogram, we were sitting in a brief moment of silence. Staring at each other but still hopeful. I wasn't in pain, and he still looked great. It should be ok. We got called into the doctors office where a woman sat at the ready, as if we were bad students being sent to the principals office. She was charming but didn’t waste any time. We had a confirmed rupture and a shortened cervix. Amniotic fluid was indeed leaking and the only thing keeping it from getting much worse was the fact that our son’s head was pushed against the cervix, acting as a cork.

Our options were little to none. We were only just over 20 weeks,and I was looking at term confinement at that point. I was to go on a modified bedrest immediately, and cant get up longer than 10 minutes each hour. Increase the water intake, and absolutely nothing goes near the cervix. If I could last until 24 weeks, I would be admitted to the hospital until I gave birth. If I could last. Our chances of giving birth to a viable child was decent. Our chances of giving birth to a healthy child were slim. What do you mean, If I could last? I went from super mom and money maker wife to busted baby factory without a job in mere minutes. I was humpty dumpty and only one wrong move could cost us our son. I had to last.

In that same moment, however, I started thinking about the immediate sacrifices we would have to make. I was an independent contractor, with no hope of vacation or paid time off. I knew my work would understand my situation, but that meant no cash flow from my end. We just bought a new house, a new car to fit the family, and now we were instantly on one income. And what about our daughter? Willa was spending the next week and a half with her dad, but what would happen when we got her back? I never missed a pickup and I was a homeschooling pro due to covid. Now, out of the blue, I had to figure out how to raise my child for the foreseeable future from the couch.