Since my very recent miscarriage (three weeks ago this past Monday), I have been voraciously reading on the internet. I was telling a friend today that while my body is “purging” so unceremoniously, that my mind is going through a completely different healing process. I’m fired up. I’m mad. And I can’t distance myself from pregnancy and childbirth issues even though I’m no longer pregnant.
So what does this have to do with the title of my post? Perhaps nothing? I read an interesting post about “Good Birth Hormones” over at Empowering Birth Blog, and it got me to thinking . . . not that mine is a particularly well-crafted post . . . about hormones in miscarriage.
Monday I cracked. Or cracked up. My "ex-BOYfriend" dangled a carrot in front of me for months and didn't contribute emotionally, physically, anything over the last month. I called my OB/GYN that I saw five times in a week and a half during and following the week of the miscarriage. From what I gather, I’m going through post-partum depression. Well, isn’t that dandy. And it’s normal. There is not nearly enough information out there about the emotional effects of miscarriage. For some reason, people are still less likely to talk about miscarriage. I imagine those (men) who have never experienced this, nor some women would approve or understand this post.
I still need to post my miscarriage experience. But let me tell you the bad and ugly that comes with miscarriage hormones . . . at least what I experienced. Caution here! This is my experience which may be radically different from anyone else’s experience with miscarriage or neonatal death. Postpartum depression after miscarriage is a risk for some women, and it can be deadly.
After finding out about the pregnancy, I had no intention of keeping it (I apologize to the pro-lifers). Just know that going from a pregnant to a non-pregnant state accompanying a loss is [insert hyperbole] traumatic to your body, mind, and soul. He didn't/wouldn't want it because he "was too old", and I didn't want to have a child with someone who felt so strongly about not wanting that in his life. We told him about it. Instantly he felt that I was lying, possibly out of "desperation" for us to be back to normal... or to try to get his attention. I wasn't going for either, I just felt like at an almost 40 something, he should know. We were intimate, we shared something, and it was only fair to let the person I still love know. Two days later, I miscarried after telling him. I took my dog out for a walk. By the time we reached the door, it felt like I was urinating on myself. I immediately unlocked the door and ran in, and down the hall. I pulled my sweats down and there was blood all over my underwear and on the inside of my leg. For an instant, I felt the need to push and there was a loud "plop." I looked down and what one would think was a clot, wasn't. It was round, symmetrical, pseudo-transparent gray in color. I called my girlfriend, and she immediately came over. I left everything in the toilet as I ran to my other bathroom to shower because I felt dirty, and I didn't know if I was going to have to go to the ER. She got online looking for something to tell us what to do. We made several calls to multiple doctors that we know but no responses from anyone. I gingerly scooped out what came out of me and placed it in a cup completely covering it with aluminum foil because I didn't want to look at it again. She tucked me into bed with a handful of Midol and advised me to go to the nearest doctor that morning.
I woke up... cleaned myself up and proceeded to look for a doctor that could take me right away. I found one that would take me straight away, in addition my internist doctor would take me too. I went to him first, he gave me Naproxen and took blood work. After leaving there, I drove myself dizzily to Baptist with my cup from the night before in the cup holder. I get there and immediately they weigh me. I weighed 143 pounds. She does a pelvic exam, and my uterus is "swollen", and examines the specimen I brought in, it was in fact a miscarriage. (A woman’s body changes dramatically during pregnancy, tremendous adjustments also occur when a pregnancy ends through birth or miscarriage. The discussion of miscarriage it is important to recognize that whether the loss occurred naturally or medically assisted, the pregnancy has ended abruptly. The hormones which prepared a woman’s body to carry their baby and were sustained throughout the pregnancy swing dramatically causing a significant shift in her hormones. Such chemically induced mood swings make women emotional after the end of a pregnancy. Being irritable, angry, irrational, tired, tearful, and sometimes even a bit sad are fairly normal expressions as her body struggles to return to a pre-pregnant state. It is believed that approximately 10-15% of women experience a much more extreme reaction to the hormone changes.) She sent me down to the second floor to do more blood work. If I'm a negative blood type you have to have a Rhogam shot. That's, “Rh-negative”, and therefore your baby may be at risk for hemolytic disease of the newborn. This shot will also protect you or your next child. I knew that wasn't a possibility. You still have to have the shot even if you've miscarried. So I already had blood taken from one arm not even 20 minutes before, now they are taking from the other. I went back up to the office for the doctor to prescribe me pain pills for the horrible cramps I was experiencing, although after I passed the fetus there was no more blood. This was Tuesday. I drove myself back home to take something and pass out. I was in hell, and utterly alone. Wednesday was worse. I hadn't told my mother anything because it would break her heart (the guy that I fell in love with she did too, and me suffering alone without him being supportive), so I had to compose myself when she said that she was stopping by. I had cried for six days straight only stopping long enough to sleep or drive myself back to the hospital. Mom came and went looking at me skeptically but never saying anything. The pain grew worse. That Thursday morning I called the doctors office and they wanted me to come in ASAP. She was concerned that since I wasn't passing blood, that I might still have some of the pregnancy in my tube. They wanted to make sure it wasn't etopic. I arrived and she was extremely worried because I looked terrible. My sleeping pattern was altered as I slept only a couple three hours after having taken a pain pill. I was averaging about 4 hours a day. They weighed me, I weighed 135. I had lost 8 pounds in two days. I couldn't eat because everything smelled wretched. Nothing had tasted the way that I remembered. Before the miscarriage I remember having to unplug ALL of the plug ins because it was intensely strong. Before the pregnancy I couldn't smell them or thought they didn't smell strong enough. Nothing appealed to me, so in return I slept. I went to the office and they took more blood. I'd been poked three times in two days. Two in one arm and once in the other. She wanted me to make arrangements to go see a therapist or talk to someone... but I couldn't quite wrap my head around much of anything. All I could keep saying was, "why?" They sent me to another facility for the ultrasound. From there, I went back home hurting even worse from the vaginal wand moving about inside of me. It made the pain that much worse. I received a call and they said my count was down, but not completely down. I went back that Friday so she could check me over again, but not before she expressed more concern about my well being. My face gaunt, rapidly losing weight, crying non-stop. I weighed 133. I managed to lose two more pounds in a matter of 24 hours. I head to the store to go get pads as the doctor tells me my levels are dropping and she's sure I'm going to "pass" the rest of the miscarriage. She wanted to avoid doing the D&C if at all possible. She wanted my body to do it naturally. All the while my hormones are still all over the place. While on the phone standing in the middle of Rite Aid alone, blood begins to flow freely down my leg in the middle of the store. I'm in there so often they take care of me and get me out cleaned up. I go home and spend the rest of the weekend in fetal position still trying to wrap my head around anything and everything... Why did this happen to me? Why did he do this to me? Why do I deserve this? I had no answers, so all I could do was cry. I lay there bleeding profusely. I cried, and slept. That was it. Sunday rolls around and it's still horrible. It's not letting up and I'm dizzy, weak, and worried. I put a call into the office and the doctor on call calls me back. I tell her everything that's happened, and she tells me to come on in to the ER. I wrestled with the idea, but not before that Sunday evening after speaking to the doctor and finding out he was "dating" someone. Not "seeing" or "hanging out" as he told me, but "dating." The time that he was spending with her, should've been spent with the person he spent well over a year with while suffering a loss. Regardless of the circumstances of the loss, it's a loss nonetheless. I decided that I didn't want to go to the ER... alone. Alone the way I'd spent my entire week, and the month and a half before. Now none of you men will be able to comprehend, care, understand what I'm speaking about because you're incapable of getting pregnant, having our hormones go haywire, and suddenly losing them. It's a horrible experience... it's even worse when you're still experiencing it.
I made a conscience effort to make myself go to work that Monday. I go to work and decide to go see our guidance counselor. I spent most of my morning curled up on her sofa going through each and every detail of my experience from the past two weeks. Prior to the finding out I was pregnant and letting him know, to the loss of the pregnancy and the girl that's taken my place. I had to leave to go get more blood taken. They wanted to see me anyway since I didn't show up to the ER. The situation had already been humiliating, I told them that I couldn't bring myself to be there alone, and possibly be there overnight. My doctor did a pelvic and was still wanting to hold off on the D&C. I cried, and cried.... She wanted me to have more blood work as they wanted to make sure that I wasn't anemic since I was losing a lot of blood. I'd been stuck and stuck and it seemed like there was no end to what I was going through. The call the next day told me that I was, but she wanted to wait until I had another round of blood work to decide how we should handle the situation. The pain was still there, the flood of emotions was still raging through me, and I felt as though I was hanging by a small thread as I'm going through this alone. Now when I say alone, I mean in the sense of the man who contributed to the love affair that we had for well over a year is not present. I had friends, but they could only do, say just so much. they couldn't provide the comfort that I needed at this distressing time. It was not their position. I spent the weekend waiting for the next round of blood work and still trying to wrap my head around everything. When I was awake, I was hurt and angry... so I cried... I cried myself back to sleep because it was the only time I could find solace from the disruption of my life. My sleeping was off, I'd go to bed at ten, wake up at one, would be up until five, then sleep until seven. This was a daily thing for me for almost a month. I couldn't find a way to calm myself to stop thinking, to stop the hurt. Emotionally, physically, mentally. It was rocky. Tuesday rolls around and I head back to the hospital. I sat in the chair dreading the sting of the needle drive into my arm. Nothing was coming out, so she moved over a little to try again, still nothing. She moved further down my arm to try one more time and it was like a slow dripping faucet... The other vile(s) had already clotted and we were not getting anything into the third one. The phlebotomist asked if I had ate or drank anything. I hadn't... not since the evening before. Because I was dehydrated the blood would not flow. I would have to come back. they weighed me one more time, and it said 129. In a little over two weeks I had lost 14 pounds. I didn't go back. I'd had as much poking and prodding that I could possibly handle. I was weak physically and mentally. I was completely lost.
Having bled for nearly two and a half weeks (and just woke up to it yet again this morning), losing weight, mentally distraught was too much for anyone to handle. While all women experience physical changes in their bodies after a pregnancy ends affecting her mood, a woman who has lost a baby through miscarriage faces another risk factor for serious postpartum depression. Not only must a woman endure the physical and psychological stresses that occur due to hormone changes, but they do so without any of the rewards that come with bringing their baby home choice or not. A woman may not have the support of her partner. She is trying to cope with not only her postpartum changes, but with the loss of a baby as well, choice or not.
With the end of any pregnancy, a wide variety of “normal” feelings may occur. In addition to being irritable, tired, and gloomy, much more distressing emotions may be experienced. A woman may not always be aware when her feelings have “gone too far”, and those surrounding her need to be alert to the risk of developing postpartum depression. Immediate recognition and treatment must occur for a grieving woman who displays signs of extreme nervousness or anxiety, expresses feelings of panic, persistent or irrational fears and thoughts, severe insomnia or nightmares or intense depression. All of which I've suffered or am still suffering. It has also been suggested that women who have had previous struggles with depression, endured infertility treatments, or are childless are at an even greater risk to develop this serious depressive disorder. None of those three have ever been an issue for me. I consciously made choices in my life to not have children as I felt I never had a man worthy of that part of me. Sure, I've been "depressed" but what "normal" person hasn't?
Postpartum depression can begin and spin out of control very quickly. It is considered a life threatening condition. It is however treatable and evidence suggests that professional intervention is effective in reducing or eliminating such intense emotions and behaviors.
Following the loss of a baby could be the time in a woman’s life when she needs a strong support system the most. Her world has been turned upside down and is intensified by tremendous hormonal changes. Those around her must recognize and respond quickly to this serious condition.
I will NOT apologize for my rash hour long behavior, I will NOT apologize for being the victim and not the villain as so many would like to see me, I will NOT apologize for being someone 20 some odd years ago that I am no longer today, and I will NOT apologize for those heartless ones that can't begin to comprehend the hell I've gone through for a month while they whisper behind my back.
My poor soul – it aches. It needs attention. The miscarriage’s affect on my soul is one that I haven’t been ready to deal with and it wasn't part of the "plan." I sort of have a plan. When my body feels better, I’ll do some yoga... maybe. When my mind is less angry I’ll pray more and meditate (the Rosary has been particularly helpful for me in times of trial). I pray every night now which I’ve failed to do for years, but I wouldn’t say that these prayers are bringing any comfort. I don’t know what to really pray for – sure the generic “stuff” like healing, comfort, success next time, health, blah blah. But I don’t feel spiritually connected right now.
I’ll let you know how things progress. Every day since my miscarriage brings new emotions, thoughts, rationales, pains, pangs.
One last loosely related statement.
I HATE BEING A STATISTIC YET AGAIN!
I guess I should flesh that out . . . perhaps tomorrow.
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