Oct 15, 2009  •  In Personal

Healing

Since returning from the hospital Monday, I have not been able to sleep or eat. I have put my phone on silent and ignored my emails and messages, vowing to get to them when I no longer start weeping at the first thought of what has happened. I mope around the house looking for distractions but manage to avoid human interaction. My melancholy state of mind is only interrupted by bouts of anger – pure, blazing ANGER – at the world, at myself, and even at God.

I never realized I am capable of such wrath. I never realized I am capable of such selfishness, wondering thoughts such as ‘How can the world still be existing, still functioning normally when something so horrible has just happened?’

I can only tell myself that this will pass. Time will heal. GOD will heal.

Due to the cruelty of nature, my body still feels pregnant. At 12 weeks, my belly had started to round out and swell. I had just started to feel pressure when bending down…and I still feel my enlarged uterus, confused by the drastic dip in hormones, clinging to hold on to its prior state with every stoop that I take. My breasts remain sore and swollen.

Today I vowed to take the first steps toward recovery. I managed to answer some emails, looked up miscarriage support groups online, and even managed to finish an entire milkshake.

And as much as I want to forget the whole incident and pretend it never happened, I know that I would only be deluding myself by doing so. It hurts, but I want to – I need to – remember it. So I have written about my D&C experience in my Private Posts page (request access here).

I pray to God that J and I will be able to have healthy babies in the future. And that when I am finally able to hold my first child in my arms, I will be able to realize that as painful as it was, this will be the baby I am meant to hold forever in my arms…and that the baby we lost is the baby to hold forever in my heart.

Oct 13, 2009  •  In Facebook, Personal

It’s My Internet Persona and I Choose to Overshare

Dear Friend,

I am sorry that blogging about my miscarriage has made you feel uncomfortable. I am sorry that you found it in bad taste for me to choose to share the post on Facebook where all my friends could see it.

But you know what? I found it damn therapeutic to write about it, and I will continue to write about it in the future. As for Facebook? Should I have kept it silent, let the news spread slowly via word of mouth, and continue to receive messages/wall posts on how the pregnancy is going? I felt that delivering the news en masse, no matter how impersonal, was the best method for me.

Yes, allow me to act selfish while I mourn the death of my 3-month-old child whose heartbeat I saw and heard, whose head, arms and legs…even its tiny feet, were distinguishable on the ultrasound.

If you do not like what you’re reading, just stop reading my blog. De-friend me on Facebook (or hide my feeds).

Just don’t tell me how I should grieve.

Oct 9, 2009  •  In Personal, Pregnancy

No Heartbeat

We did not get an ultrasound yesterday because this particular doctor did not have an ultrasound machine on premises. He had discovered the bleeding after a pelvic exam, and while he put me on bedrest, he advised us to get an ultrasound right away.

Luckily, we were able to get an appointment with another doctor this morning. I immediately liked her, and kept thinking inside my head, “We found our OB!” She was warm, energetic and friendly, and told me more about the pregnancy in 15 minutes of conversation than all my past doctor visits combined.

But as soon as the grainy image flickered onto the screen, I knew something was wrong.

“…there is no heartbeat…”

We had lost the baby.

 

Insurance Refuses to Cover the Surgery

I will be going to the hospital on Monday to get a surgical procedure called D&C. The tissue will be suctioned out and tests performed to try to determine the cause of the miscarriage.

The worst part of this entire experience has been the insurance. After we received the news and got some private time to grieve, the doctor explained to us what would happen and the administrative staff called my insurance provider to get the authorization for the procedure.

Horizon Blue Cross Blue Shield is refusing to cover this treatment as well, stating that my need for a D&C stems from a pre-existing condition (aka the pregnancy). My doctor was livid, repeatedly saying, “But she NEEDS this procedure. It’s a surgery that requires a hospital bed, staff, equipment, and anesthesia!”

The cost of the D&C will run in the thousands of dollars. My doctor kindly offered to cut her own fee in half, but her cost is just a fraction of the total bill.

After hearing the news, all I wanted to do was go home and cry. Grieve in private. Instead, we had to sit in the doctor’s office for another half an hour while the staff continued to argue with the insurance company. A fight that they inevitably lost.

 

The Aftermath

This all happened in the morning. J and I came home, cried, and grieved together. I took a short nap, and am currently feeling slightly better. Which is to say that I am no longer bawling…rather, I feel numb. I feel completely numb and cold inside.

When I first found out that we had lost the baby (just a week before the start of my second trimester, no less), I quickly decided that I did not want to tell anyone right away.

However, as soon as I woke up from my nap I knew that I wanted to write. So here I am.

I continue to re-run the pregnancy in my head, trying to figure out what I did wrong. I think back to events that occurred years and years ago, asking myself if it’s possible that they could’ve somehow contributed to the miscarriage.

People say that a miscarriage is nature’s way of weeding out the weak and the deformed, and that it most likely happened through no fault of my own. However, it is difficult not to blame myself and consider myself less of a woman.

“Do you think our baby is in heaven?” I asked J.

“Of course. And we’ll get to meet him or her one day.”

Oct 8, 2009  •  In Personal, Pregnancy

Having the Worst Day…

After weeks of filing out forms and waiting…and waiting…I finally got approved for health insurance and received my insurance card in the mail.

Ecstatic, I began to call doctors right away. I could go on and on about how difficult it is to find a good OB in my area who accepts my new insurance, is currently accepting new patients, and does not have a months-long waiting list. But I won’t get into that now. There are more pressing issues at hand.

J and I just returned from an OB that had a last-minute cancellation and was able to fit us in the same day. I was especially anxious because we have not had a checkup in a month, and was worried at how my terrible cold had affected Tater Tot.

The doctor discovered that I had been bleeding. Not enough for me to notice, but definitely enough to have formed clots.

Luckily, we were able to hear the baby’s heartbeat, and my cervix is still closed.

The doctor has ordered a full bedrest for the next week.

At 12 weeks, my chance of miscarriage is less than 2%. This is the time that many parents decide to announce their pregnancy, with the most risky weeks behind them. It seems oddly ironic that we are at a very high risk of miscarriage during the last week of my first trimester.

Sadly, the story does not end here.

As we said goodbye to the doctor and proceeded to the front desk, the receptionist gave us an apologetic smile and told us that my insurance provider is refusing to pay for my visit.

“Did you just start coverage with them? They’re saying that your pregnancy is a pre-existing condition that is not covered under your policy.”

WTF.

When applying for insurance, I had specifically told them that I am pregnant. In fact, I had mentioned it twice in my application – the first under health history and the second under additional comments: “I am currently seeking insurance coverage for my pregnancy.”

Obviously, I can’t call to complain, because their customer support is not open on Thursdays. However, there is a very good chance that I will end up canceling the policy (I will try my best to get my first month’s premium refunded) because either they will require me to pay a sky-high fee to get prenatal coverage, or they will just flat out refuse to cover me.

Thanks a bunch, Horizon Blue Cross Blue Shield. You are yet another reason why the U.S. healthcare system sucks.

Please pray for us in this difficult situation, everyone…