This will be part 1 of many where I talk about my most recent miscarriage.

To set the scene, I was 15 weeks and 1 day pregnant.  I had just told my manager the previous day that I was pregnant, and by this time, I’d told my friends and family as well.  I was just starting to feel like I was really going to have a baby.

Also, as I mentioned in my last post, I’d spotted throughout my first trimester, from weeks 6 through 12.  All my ultrasounds during this time showed a live baby with a beating heart.  My OB told me that it was nothing to be concerned about.  I had been taking baby aspirin, and she thought this might be the cause.  She appeared irritated that I had put myself on the aspirin (because I’d had two prior miscarriages, and thought it might help), and told me I should stop taking it as 12 weeks.  I did.

Miraculously (it seemed) at 12 weeks – right after my NT scan – the bleeding stopped.  I was thrilled about this, as the bleeding had been a large source of anxiety for me.

However, at 15 weeks 1 day, I noticed some spotting again.  I had had reassuring stark white toilet paper for a few weeks, so I decided to call my doctor.  I felt silly doing it, thinking it probably was no big deal that that she was going to be irritated with me for wasting her time.  As it turned out, she wanted to see me the next day.

I spent the entire evening crapping my pants and reading internet story after internet story about how someone else had this happen and they had an ultrasound the next day and it all turned out fine.

The next morning, we were scheduled to be seen at 9:30am.  While we were sitting in the waiting room, I overheard my doctor talking about having to deliver a woman whose water broke early – it sounded like 20 weeks – that morning.  The baby had died.  I hoped that wasn’t a bad omen.

After a few minutes, we were taken back to an exam room, I got weighed, and then when I told the nurse why we were there,  she moved us to an ultrasound room.  My OB came in, and I told her what was going on.  She got ready to do an abdominal ultrasound.

As soon as I saw the image on the screen, I starting willing the baby to move.  It didn’t.  I couldn’t see a heartbeat.  The doctor looked confused, or surprised.  She said, “Let’s try vaginally.”  The dildo cam didn’t show a heartbeat either.  When she put the heartbeat monitor on and I saw a flatline, I started to cry.

At this point, she told me she was “very concerned.”  I was all, NO SHIT.

She then went and got one of her partners, who confirmed that there was no heartbeat and that the baby had died.  It measured 12w0d, the day of my NT scan.

The doctors left and my OB asked me to put my clothes on, and then we would talk about what would come next.

I’ll continue this in part 2.

When I last posted, I was pregnant.  I’m not now.

I miscarried a few months ago at 15 weeks.  Well, I actually miscarried at 12 weeks, but I just didn’t find out right away.

I had spotted throughout my first trimester.  I had been taking baby aspirin, and theorized that that was the reason.  In any case, my doctor told me to quit taking it at 12 weeks, which I did.  I had three great ultrasounds (at 6 weeks, 7 weeks, and 12 weeks) where I saw heartbeats and movement and a beautiful baby.  The NT scan was perfect, and we were told we had a low chance of Down’s Syndrome or Trisomy 13 or 18.

And then, later that day, or maybe the next day, our baby died.

And that, frankly, really sucked.  It sucked to have to tell work, and my friends, and my parents, that this baby wasn’t going to happen after all.  It sucked to have to go pick up the maternity pants I’d dropped off to be altered.  It sucked to put the ultrasound pictures away.  And it sucked to have to have a D&E.

I’ll write about the Ultrasound of Doom, my D&E, and my experience with a miscarriage specialist in my next few posts.  For now, what I mostly feel is that I can’t imagine being pregnant and dealing the anxiety again.  I was a basket case this whole pregnancy – even after 12 weeks, when everything “should” have been fine.  How am I ever going to believe that things are going to be fine again?

I got pregnant three times in 2009, and miscarried three times in 2009.  Here’s hoping 2010 is my year.