Okay, I am not going to far into this, but there are parts that I want to talk about. For a short run down…I lost my baby Monday. I was three months pregnant. That’s not what this blog is about. I think with it being 3 am, it’s not the time to talk about it yet. What I want/need to talk about it the way I was treated during this horrible ordeal. Let’s start in the beginning. When I first started bleeding, I had no idea what was going on. My husband rushed me to the hospital and of course I was crying so hard I was shaking and could barely talk. Upon arriving there I was asked a bunch of questions I couldn’t answer due to the crying and considering the hospital the three or four minutes I spent in the waiting room with everyone else was more than reasonable (I have sat there over five hours with Grace running 103 fever without even seeing triage). When I get back to triage, a doctor first takes me in a small room o find out what is going on before giving me my “room”. I figured she would let Lee try and tell her what was happening since I was a wreck and he was trying, but she insisted I answer the questions. And when I had trouble doing so told me to stop crying and calm down because if I was miscarrying there was nothing that could be done to stop it. So basically, if you baby is dead, deal with it. I just looked at her in complete shock. I didn’t want to be baby, but a little sympathy or even respect would have been nice. Then I was in the ER for 7 hours, mainly because a doctor made a mistake ordering my ultrasound. But my nurse was nice and everything. I had to make Lee take Grace home after a few hours because she needed to walk around, my “room” was a curtain and a nurse came by and told us that Lee couldn’t walk the baby around back there due to privacy issues. Which I think is HILARIOUS due to the fact that I know the name, age, problem, family history, etc or the person in the “room” next to me and I wasn’t even trying to listen. So it sucked that i had to go through that alone. Anyway, they sent me home and the next day I had to come in to schedule a D&C. I will explain what that is in very simple terms, which should also, if you know me, tell you EXACTLY how I felt about having to have it done. It’s the procedure they use in abortions to get the baby out. Yeah. And speaking of the horrible, nasty word that I fucking hate, when the doctor came in for my follow up appointment to schedule all this, the first thing out of his mouth was “So you had an abortion”. How do you respond to that? I didn’t know. I literally sat there with my mouth open and stared at him. I was in complete shock. My husband, knowing I was about 5 seconds from ripping the doc’s head off, quickly said “Spontaneous abortion, miscarriage, we didn’t want this, not abortion.” Over and over until I came back to earth and realized that the doctor was just using technical terms. The rest of that appointment went downhill. After hearing them call my baby a fetus a few times, I could no longer take it and finally said “the baby” everything they would say it. They finally got the picture. By the way, this is way off, but Monday night at the ER, the doctor that saw me wasn’t even an OB but a pediatrician. But I can say that I love that doctor, especially after dealing with the others. He cried when he told me the news. I wanted to hug him so bad. I could never thank him enough for actually showing some compassion and proving that not all doctor’s are cold and calculated. Anyway, I had this D&C scheduled for Thursday, today actually, but God, once again, had different plans. Last night, around 4 pm, Lee rushed me back to the hospital again (this time someone watched Grace, thank you Kodie, we love you so much, you are fucking awesome). I am bleeding, and I don’t mean a little, I mean A LOT. I can’t stand up. I am in so much pain that I ended up throwing up. I gave birth naturally with Grace and this was WORST. Lee practically carries me in, sits me down and goes to sign me in. I am crying, trying not to sream, clutching the chair in pain and fighting the fact that I thought I was going to faint. Lee goes to tell the nurse this and she says “Who? The lady walking around?” (Lee had told her that I thought I was going to faint and that I was losing a lot of blood). She obviously meant it to be a sarcastic bitch. Lee said “No, the lady double of in pain about to pass out”. She sees gets a doctor and nurse who come and get me in a wheelchair. Do they take me to a room? Nope. They have no beds. They place me in a “quiet room” basically a small waiting room inside the ER. At least it’s empty. I am literally writhing in pain. I can’t sit still but I can’t stand. I clutch to Lee and beg him to make it stop. finally I have to use the restroom. I stand up and BAM I am covered in blood. My pants are ruined. They bring me a gown and give me a thing in my arm. It’s an IV, I know, but it wasn’t hooked up to anything. The nurse was trying to be nice as he could be. I don’t think he was very competent considering after putting the needle in my arm he threw it in the trash can of the waiting room. Lee actually had to ask him “Hey, Sergeant? Would you like me to get that needle so you can put it in the sharps box?” He looked panically at me and said “I am going to get fired” and when I told him I wouldn’t tell he calmed down. So it’s good to know you are in good hands…. Anyway, they finally open a room. On my way there I feel a pain, stop in the middle of the hallway and BAM more blood this time all down my legs and all over the floor. To be honest, this was probably the part where I began to think I was going to die. Anway, to make this shorter, I finished the miscarriage that night. I bleed so much that they got worried and brought in an OB. I soaked around 5 pads, myself and the bed in less than an hour. With the huge bloodclots, everytime I looked at Lee I could tell he was praying to God that I didn’t bleed to death. The bad part is, I kept telling them and telling them that it was too much blood and they were like no, it’s okay. Then the nurse comes in, gives me a new pad. 15 minutes later she comes back because I need to use to restroom, when I got up there was blood everywhere. I had already soaked through the pad, the pad underneath me and the bed. That got their attention and I glad that I didn’t have to bleed to death in a hospital. You would think that would be the worst part, but no, I saved that for last. I am going to direct this one to the caregivers that have to due this with women (yeah, they all read my blog). The worst part for me was something so easily changed. I just lost my baby and I am going through a lot of pain, emotionally AND physically. So when you are looking at what should have been my baby and pulling things out and other gross things, call it a fucking baby. Because that was my BABY. I don’t care if I wasn’t far along, that was my baby from the moment of conception. The last thing I want to hear is you calling my child a fetus or even worse, tissue. It broke my fucking heart. I felt you were trying to mean it seem less significant and maybe you were doing that for me, but it sucked. It was a human being and my baby and all I wanted was you to have a little compassion to see that. I am done. I think I can sleep now. Thanks for the percocet doc.
