I just today found this website and I want to tell you about my misdagnosed miscarriage in 2002.
I have PCOS and do not ovulate without help. We found an amazing RE to help in 1999 and in December 2000 our first child was born. It was a perfect pregnancy. Hannah was happy and healthy and HUGE at 11 pounds 15 ounces.
When Hannah was 10 months old we decided to try again. In late September 2001 I found out I was pg. My HCG was VERY high and progesterone was very very VERY low. I was put on Prometrium and told that it didn't look good.
The morning of our 6 week ultrasound it was October 31st-Halloween day. We dressed Hannah up to take her to the RE's office-we were so excited to show off her first costume.
It was time to get Hannah dressed. She sat smiling in her crib playing with a book. I bent over to pick her up and BAM....shooting pain raced up and across my back. I dropped her and fell to the floor. I screamed, I couldn't feel my legs. I could hear myself screaming but it sounded like it was someone else.
"I am losing the babies, help me" was being uttered by someone over and over...the room was spinning.
With help I made it to my feet. My husband helped me get Hannah dressed and we left for the appointment. The drive into the city was excruciating.
And then as if in some other world I walked into the doctor, sat there, and didn't say a word about what had happened. Thinking back I must have been in shock. But I really had convinced myself it was all okay-after all there was no blood. Surely if that voice was right and I was losing my babies there would be blood.
The ultrasound showed 3 tiny sacs, no heartbeats. "Not to worry" I was told, at 7 weeks triplets will likely be too small to see. I smiled.
That night Kevin took Hannah out for her Halloween-just to the neighbors and back. I stayed on the couch, unable to move with pain so intense I wanted to die. I fell asleep just before midnight.
November 1st I awoke too sore to care for Hannah and daddy took her to grandma's. Then suddenly around noon I felt better, headed to grandma's to pick up my girl. We had lunch with grandma. Then I felt it. A gush and warm fluid. I knew it was blood. We were at the hospital within the hour.
"Whatever is going to happen will happen, there is nothing we can do. Go home and get some rest"
November 2nd 2001.
It was a sunny warm, fall day. I felt fantastic. The pain was gone, there was no blood. I sang songs to Hannah and we went for a walk. I bought a few early Christmas gifts. My babies were fine. I would have three babies, all healthy, 2 boys and 1 girl. Their names were already picked out.
5:13 pm. The meat was in the pan, I was making Shepherd's pie. Hannah was playing with pots and pans. She was laughing.
5:14..the popping of the grease in the pan....a gush...a puddle of blood at my feet, covering half the kitchen floor, the puddle growing.
A scream, again who was screaming?
We rushed to the ER.
I never got to say goodbye.
I was granted a miracle that fall night. For reasons that cannot be medically explained I stayed alive while massively hemorrhaging.
I went home an remained a complete Zombie for a few days-I honestly do not even remember eating or sleeping or even being. Over the next week all my pg symptoms disappeared and I got on with life as best as I could.
4.5 weeks later we had another RE appt. As is customary we took a HPT before our appt. OMG it was positive!! I was shocked-I couldn't beleive I had gotten pregnant without drugs. I was also scared because we were told not to TTC for 2 months.
We went for blood work and was called for an U/S. I lay there on the exam table in disbelief as I watched a 13 week 4 day fetus wiggle and squirm. I just started to cry.
No one had answers for us. My RE was stunned and told us he had never seen it happen...the night of the m/c my beta dropped to 4...it was by all accounts-a miracle.
I had a rough pregnancy littered with complications. I had a placental cyst grow to the size of a grapefruit and for a while we thought our son would be have to be born at 30 weeks. I developed gestational diabetes and had to use insulin and every blood test and U/S I had throughout seemed to show some sort of small irregularity.
On June 16th 2002-father's day Joshua John Lorne was born at 38 weeks weighing 8 pounds 7 oz. He spent 3 days in the NICU on IV fluid and antibiotics for what they thought was a possible staph infection.
Today Josh is a 5 year old boy and he is the spitting image of his father. Josh suffers from a severe speech delay known as Apraxia but in every other way he is a completely 'normal' healthy child.
I will never know whether those babies we lost were boys or girls. I will never know why Josh survived. I just know that those two angels are always with me and will be for the rest of my life.