04 Feb When My World Paused: Miscarriage and Life

When My World Paused: Miscarriage and Life

By Jennifer Vickery

I suffered a miscarriage in March. I have two wonderful children. I’m very blessed. My firstborn is a sweet boy, and my second is a lively daughter. Both are my light. While I thought my path to having more children had ended, I found out I was having a miscarriage (at the same time, I found out I was pregnant). It wasn’t planned, and it was quite a surprise. I went through every emotion possible – with the most being love for the baby. But it was too late, and there was nothing I could do.

I began to heal. I went on dozens of sites about miscarriage where women shared their experiences. I could relate in nearly every way. I was healing the best I could. My husband and I were saddened and realized we could possibly want more children.

Then in June, I felt I was pregnant again. I had always known I was pregnant rather early. I took a test, and there was my baby – I saw the line come up positive on the test. I was overjoyed and a little scared but completely in love.

I had early pregnancy symptoms, so I began scheduling doctor’s appointments and preparing. Weeks went by and I even told my children about their new sibling. Then, things quickly took a turn! I began to have some signs that things weren’t going well. I went to the doctor, and they started doing a blood draw to check my hormone levels for pregnancy every 48 hours to ensure my hormone levels were rising appropriately. They were, at first, borderline. Then they were within the low range. Then they were not rising enough–they were still rising, though, which was really difficult for me to understand. Why were my hormones rising at all? What was happening?

I went to a follow-up appointment and scheduled an ultrasound. They sadly couldn’t find the baby. Where was my baby? I was definitely pregnant.

With a lot of research and some help from a friend, I found another doctor who would take the time to figure this out. The baby was located in my fallopian tube, otherwise known as an ectopic pregnancy. According to American Family Physician (AFP), an ectopic pregnancy occurs at a rate of 19.7 cases per 1,000 pregnancies in North America–and is a leading cause of maternal mortality in the first trimester.

AFP continues, “More than 95 percent of ectopic pregnancies occur in the fallopian tubes. Another 2.5 percent occur in the cornua of the uterus, and the remainder in the ovary, cervix or abdominal cavity. Because none of these anatomic sites can accommodate placental attachment or a growing embryo, the potential for rupture and hemorrhage always exists. A ruptured ectopic pregnancy is a true medical emergency. It is the leading cause of maternal mortality in the first trimester and accounts for 10 to 15 percent of all maternal deaths.”

Not only was my baby not going to survive, but I as well could die. I saw the pregnancy on the ultrasound. I’ll never forget it. I had to go to the hospital that evening and have surgery the next morning.

I held my two children before going to the hospital while tears rolled down my face. I didn’t want to leave them and had never been apart from them otherwise. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I felt alone. Thanks to COVID, no one could even stay with me at the hospital.

I was able to see my family one more time just before the surgery. I kissed both my kids as they looked at me as if I were an alien because I was hooked up to machines with an IV. They were scared. I was too.

I began feeling pain during the time that I was spending with them. I was trying not to show it on my face. As soon as I said goodbye, I immediately told a nurse. As they wheeled me up to surgery, my fallopian tube was rupturing. I was shaking. There was nothing I could do.

After the surgery, I was able to go home. I felt relief, horror, sadness, grief, love and anger, all at the same time. I was happy to be alive and hold my children. But where was my baby? Why couldn’t things have worked out?

Weeks later, I had a follow-up appointment with the surgeon where he was able to show me images of my fallopian tubes from the surgery. Things were not looking good. He saved me, but no physician in the world could’ve saved the baby. Strangely, it helped to see the images to understand what happened.

I’ll never fully heal from all of this. I’ll just move forward with my family who is here. I’m a mother and needed to be strong for my children. I will continue to do so in any situation. I’m happy to be alive and  be with them and hope to see my two heavenly children one day. I think of them often. I know they’re a piece of my heart forever.