After days of worrisome discharges that
no one seemed to be able to explain --
lots of mucusy stuff, some tissue blobs,
some tissue with blood -- my water broke
on a Monday. I felt the wetness on my
leg when I went to the bathroom in the
morning and then it all pretty much came
out. My heart sank, because I'd been
reading up enough to know that it was
probably amniotic fluid. Sure enough, we
went to emergency, and they confirmed by
tests and ultrasound that I had lost all
my fluid. But the baby's heartbeat was
still a strong 160. The doctor did not
give us much hope. She said there was
about a 10% chance that the baby might
live without fluid, and perhaps the
fluid would start replenishing. We were
given the option of a D&C or inducing,
but we opted out as the baby's heartbeat
was still going and we had just become
too attached to it not to hope against
all odds. I was sent home and asked to
take it easy and book an ultrasound the
following Monday to check fluid levels.
On Tuesday, my I started bleeding and
passing bit clots. My girlfriend took me
back to Emerge because my husband, as
luck would have it, was away on business
all day. Then it subsided, and they sent
me home again. Baby's heart still
beating. I was crying pretty much
constantly by then. The next two days
were tough. My husband was back. I had
discovered this site by then, so I was
hoping against all hope that our baby
would be one of the miracle ones. But my
body's signals were not good. More fluid
leakage, bad cramping, and on Friday
afternoon, the worst backache I ever
had. I started having contractions at
6:15. They were bad. Two hours later, we
delivered our little girl. She was
absolutely perfect. My husband and I
held her and cried so hard. I felt that
she had shown incredible strength, and
had been fighting with all her might,
and my body had just not done right by
her. I had let her down, and I couldn't
bear it. I have never felt so inadequate
in all my life and now, 4 days later,
although everyone tells me it's not my
fault, I still believe that my body let
down an absolutely perfect little girl.
I'm so sorry, Molly. Being helpless to
prevent your own child's death is the
most awful realisation in the world.
After we said goodbye to Molly,
things got worse. Physically, at least.
My placenta refused to come out, but the
contractions got much more intense. They
kept upping my dosage of morphine and
gravol, then added another pain killer
to the cocktail and then yet another.
After 12 hours of this I was screaming
and swearing at everyone to please get
me into OR and do a D&C. Which they
finally did. It was a good thing,
because the doctor said that the
placenta would not have come out
naturally as it was pretty adhered. I
wonder whether that will give our
doctors any clues as to the cause of
this miscarriage, and maybe ideas on how
to prevent it if I'm lucky enough to
conceive again. I don't know. Right now
I'm so sad.
I feel for all those who have lost
babies through PROM. I know the despair
you must feel. I pray for you the same
thing that I pray for us: that you will
find peace, and will go on to a
successful pregnancy.
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