By: Laura Jensen
Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Sep. 18, 2013
As I made my way to the doctor’s office, anxiety coursed through me. I couldn’t quite articulate why I felt so uneasy about seeing Dr. Harris, my obstetrician-gynecologist. This was my fourth appointment in five years—a follow-up after my recent miscarriage. It was the second time I had visited her following a dilation and curettage (D&C). I had hoped that arriving at the clinic would bring some calm, but despite my efforts at deep breathing and positive affirmations, fear loomed large. I was apprehensive about what I might learn regarding the cause of this loss.
What was behind my anxiety? The answer, I realized, was painfully simple: I was blaming myself. I dreaded the possibility that my visit would confirm my worst fear—that I was responsible for the death of my baby.
Only six weeks prior, my husband and I had excitedly anticipated our 12-week ultrasound. Just four weeks earlier, we had seen our baby’s strong heartbeat, and we believed we were on track to see our child’s face that day. Instead, we were met with the heartbreaking news that the baby had stopped developing at 10 weeks. We were mourning our fourth angel.
The shock soon gave way to self-recrimination as I mentally retraced my steps, searching for any misstep that could have led to this devastating loss. During the 10th week, I had taken a weekend trip with my sister and mother to New York City. Could something I did there have caused this?
Was it the artisanal mozzarella I had at that Italian restaurant in the theater district? It was delicious, but perhaps it wasn’t pasteurized. Did my daily walks, averaging six miles, contribute to the loss? My body was not accustomed to such exertion. Might it have been that small sip of wine my sister convinced me to try? I should have known better.
Then there was the flight. I had circulation issues that required me to take baby aspirin while pregnant. Did flying affect the oxygen supply to my baby? Had I consumed too much caffeine? I aimed to keep it under 200 mg, but perhaps I miscalculated. In my heart, I felt certain that my actions were to blame for the loss. It simply had to be my fault.
Experiencing a fourth miscarriage was shattering. After the births of my two daughters, Mia and Ava, I had convinced myself that I had overcome the worst. Apparently, I was mistaken. Just by conceiving, I felt like I was engaging in a perilous gamble with a baby’s life.
After a brief wait, I was called back by Dr. Harris’s nurse, Sarah. She expressed her condolences and took my blood pressure, which registered at 148/98—a stark contrast to my usual 110/70. Clearly, I needed to find a way to calm myself.
As I sat and waited for Dr. Harris, I made an effort to breathe deeply and remind myself that I wasn’t to blame for the loss. I knew that many factors can lead to miscarriage, especially in the first trimester, and that such occurrences are not uncommon. The real miracle lies in those pregnancies that reach full term.
Ultimately, I recognized that no matter the cause, I could not change what had happened. I could only await the insights my doctor would provide.
When Dr. Harris finally entered the room, she greeted me with a warm hug. She had been my steady support through each loss, always maintaining a positive outlook. After sitting down, she shared the results of the genetic testing conducted on the fetus.
“Your baby was a girl,” she informed me. I was surprised yet relieved to discover that my instinct had been correct; I had felt from early on that I was carrying a daughter.
“The tests indicated some chromosomal abnormalities,” she continued. “It’s unclear whether these were associated with the baby or the placenta, but there were markers suggesting they were likely part of the baby. Notably, the presence of an extra chromosome 21 indicates a potential for Down syndrome.”
A wave of relief washed over me. I could finally release the guilt that had consumed me; there had been an inherent issue with the baby from the start. Dr. Harris reassured me that the likelihood of this happening again was low, even considering my age. I shared with her that my husband and I were eager to try for another baby. Her smile conveyed encouragement as she told me to call her as soon as I received another positive pregnancy test.
Of course, a part of me still harbored fears about future losses if I were to conceive again. At 42, statistics suggested a higher risk of miscarriage. Yet all I could do was hope for a different outcome this time. Until I knew whether another baby was in store for us, I would focus on cherishing my loving husband and our beautiful daughters.
For those exploring options related to conception, consider visiting Make A Mom for insights on at-home insemination kits, or check out BabyMaker for expert information. Additionally, American Pregnancy offers valuable resources on pregnancy and insemination methods.
In summary, the path of dealing with miscarriage is fraught with emotional challenges, particularly when self-blame creeps in. Understanding the medical aspects of miscarriage can help alleviate some of this guilt. As you navigate your own journey, remember to lean on support systems and seek out reliable information.
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