My D&C Experience – 2nd consecutive Miscarriage

Polarity Of Life

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting in my recliner looking out the window to a beautiful sunny day. The sky is as clear and blue as can be, with the tallest most majestic trees lining the edge of the sky. The polarity of the human experience intrigues me to my core. To be here, writing about my second miscarriage and what I’ve learned going down this road for a second time. Something so devastating and heart breaking and painful both physically and emotionally. Yet, as I sit here, starring out at nature in all its peaceful beauty, I can’t help but feel a sense of calm.

Its been 12 hours since my D&C surgery. As its all still fresh in my memory, I wanted to share my experience in hopes it reaches those who need it. This is a follow up post to the post titled “2%”

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The Proceedings

I was scheduled for surgery at 3:30pm on May 19th, 2022 and was told to arrive at 2:30pm (but then later called in to come in for 2). I had to stop eating and drinking by 9:30am that day. Feeling nauseous about the proceedings ahead, clearly I had woken up that day with high anxiety and nerves. I’ve only been into surgery one other time – when I delivered Huntly via emergency c-section. Although that was a more significant surgery, I never had the time to process what was happening before it happened. August 28, 2019 was scheduled to just be a one week past due-date check-up that ended up leading to “you’re having your baby today one way or another!” I had about 2 hours from when I found out I was going in for c-section to when I was actually getting the surgery done. But all that time was filled with tests and doctors and nurses. I felt in the moment there was no time to process or even reject what was. This was happening and I just needed to suck it up and be brave.

Although my D&C was scheduled less than 24 hours in advanced, that still gave me quite a bit of time to sit and think. Its always the unknown of it all that is the scariest. I find balancing my emotions hard. On one hand, I wanted to make sure I was processing what was happening and allowing my feelings to release rather than get suppressed (something I’m a master at.) But at the same time, I didn’t want to allow my anxiety to take hold of the wheel and send me on a spiral. I had to remind myself that I am supported by the universe. I am on my right path even if it doesn’t feel right in the moment. I’ve had major surgery before and it wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Our fear is always greater than the actual circumstances.

I was able to manage it pretty well, that is until I got to the hospital. At home I was surrounded by distractions and my people. But at the hospital, sitting in my gown and mesh panties in a recliner in a waiting room with another who was going in for surgery just made it all that much more real. I actually had a bit of an epiphany while sitting in that chair and I wrote about it in my phone.

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Writings from the Hospital

“There are some moments in life when you feel so lonely. We have our chosen people, our army behind us as we navigate the trenches of everyday living, but there are moments when we’re left to walk a portion of the journey alone. Right now is one of those moments. Its not a bad thing. It’s the reality of the human experience. No one can hold my hand. No one can make the sadness of miscarrying your child easier. No one can eliminate the fear you have walking into surgery. Its just you and yourself here to take this journey alone. I see that we’re each in our own battle, but together. We’re all walking in a group down a big open field in the same one direction. With every step we take we are together, but there are moments when those walking along side us can only be there at the beginning and at the end. They meet us where they can. But we have to walk through certain battles on our own, having the knowing that it all will work out. That your people are right there walking alongside you, just outside of your vision. Meeting you on the other side where the sun is shining. Theres moments in your peoples lives where they go through the same thing. During your walk alone you feel the loneliness of your empty hands. The quiet without their voices. But in that moment right after the hardest part but right before you meet back up with your people, you feel strong, accomplished, brave… It becomes the stark reality that although we are surrounded by millions and billions of people on this earth, we are all on our own personal journeys.”

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Back to the Proceedings

I was brought into the O.R. waiting room around 4:40pm, got acquainted with the nurses, doctor and anaesthesiologist. They ended up bringing me into surgery around 5:40pm I think. I have never been put under before, I was nervous about it, luckily I had a fabulous doctor who was able to ease my nerves a bit. Before they knocked me out, they set up my IV, heart and blood pressure monitors and then gassed me up. It was about 10 seconds before I was out like a light. I woke up around 6:40pm asking for water (girl hadn’t had water since 9:30am!) I was at the car by about 8:20pm and home by 9 (we had to stop at the pharmacy to get my pain medication).

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Waking up & After Thoughts

I was super lethargic and tired when I woke up. I didn’t feel confused like they warned me I might. There was no pain though. I think I felt the most pain when they were removing all the tape that was holding my IV in. Since then I have had very minimal bleeding. I feel slow, I feel tired, I feel relieved. And I also feel that it was 100000000% the right choice to get the D&C rather than take Misoprostol (and company). As I mentioned in my blog from 2 days ago, the experience was quite painful and quite traumatic. The recovery from what I’ve been told is also way lengthier and taxing. So to anyone going through the horrific experience of discovering your first miscarriage, my humble opinion (not doctors advice, always listen to your medical professional) do the D&C.

I remember when I went through our first miscarriage, when they were going through the options of how I could proceed with the miscarriage, either waiting for nature to take its course, taking the pill to get things going or going into surgery, surgery felt like it was making an even bigger deal than it was. My thoughts at the time were that I wanted to be at home in the comfort of my bed, close to the ones I love. Not in a hospital. Honestly, going through the surgery felt less lonely, was surely quicker and not anywhere close to the amount of pain I felt the first time.

Day 1 of recovery and that’s all I can say so far. I’m spending my day lounging around the house, trying to get fluids and food back into my system and just allow my body to recover from surgery and heart to recover from loss.

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Final Note

To those that have been here. To those that know the feeling of pregnancy loss, I’m sorry. It’s a heavy weight to carry on the heart. One we are surely strong enough to hold but one we wish we didn’t have to. What’s really helped me this second time around has been this:

1. Journalling. I journaled out my feelings as they came.
2. Find a few people whom you feel safe and comfortable to talk to and allow them in.
3. Set boundaries where they need to be set. During these past couple weeks I haven’t put myself in any situation I didn’t want to be in. I didn’t answer texts if I didn’t want to. Didn’t return phone calls that I wasn’t ready to take (still haven’t)(of course all in a respectful way). I cancelled plans I didn’t feel I was able to show up to as my best. I stepped back from social media etc.
4. Do something to commemorate your loss. For the first loss I had a copy of one of my ultrasounds so I got it hand painted by the most lovely lady (on instagram she is @kristinaherediaart & her Etsy Store is Kristina Herderia Art.) Because I don’t have an ultra sound image, I think this time I’m going to burry my positive pregnancy tests and plant a tree over them, paint some rocks with Huntly and place them there to accompany the tree. Maybe at the same time I’ll do one for the first miscarriage as well.
5. Being here a second time has its challenges and worries. But it also comes with the knowing that the worst thing to have ever happened to me to date, I survived. Not only that, I saw brighter days, had many laughs, gained hope back.. I started thriving again.

You’re not alone ♡

Love, Holland