In my previous blog, I mentioned how I experienced a missed miscarriage and was told to come back in two days for a procedure called a D&C (dilation and curettage).
I was told not to eat or drink before the procedure, but I had no appetite for the past couple of days anyway. We went to the hospital a little early to check-in and ended up waiting several hours since they were running very late. The little waiting room was basically in the recovery room (each bed had a little partition giving the patient privacy). So, for hours we were just watching people be rolled in and some people hobbling out after their hour grace period in the recovery room. I was horrified. We tried playing that word game again but were completely defeated as neither of us had the headspace to concentrate for longer than two minutes.
Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem. The hospital we went to.
Finally, it was my turn to be wheeled in. Before I knew it, I woke up very disoriented to Jeff’s smiling face. I stayed in the bed for a little longer and to my surprise I didn’t have to wobble out of the hospital. I felt as if nothing had happened at all. We decided to get dinner at the hospital cafeteria and we made a little date out of it. It was then that I realized that, no matter what happened, life continues and we were going to be okay.
On our way back home, we decided to splurge on a taxi. I was no longer crying but we were just so sad and decided to treat ourselves just this once. The taxi driver must have picked up on the mood, and didn’t say a word the entire way home (usually Israeli taxi drivers like to practice their English).
That night, we started to plan a day outing for later that week. We needed some time off from our studies and decided to go to the beach for some fresh air and change of scenery. After the D&C we were really able to come to terms with our situation and were able to turn our attitude around. Looking back at pictures from that outing still fill me with only warm happy memories.
Picture we took at our day outing at the beach in Rishon Letzion, Israel.
Before I had gotten married, someone told me that 20 percent of pregnancies result in a miscarriage. 1 out of every 5 people is a pretty large amount, yet I had never heard first-hand of anyone who had a miscarriage. It definitely never crossed my mind that I would ever be part of that 20 percent. I felt very alone in my experience, especially because around this time a lot of my friends were starting to show that they were pregnant. It was very difficult for me to watch everyone look adorable in maternity clothes and talk about strollers and hospitals while I was still feeling pangs of having just lost my baby.
I was very blessed at the time that my family took Jeff and me along on an incredible summer vacation, so we really had something to look forward to. I was able to put aside the fact that it felt like everyone in my community either was pregnant or just had a baby since I was physically distanced, and my mind was finally able to stop thinking of babies and instead relax.
The next five months were definitely difficult. I kept taking pregnancy tests, almost compulsively, hoping they would be positive. Every month I would take one just in case, and every month I was met with disappointment.
In hindsight, I realize how short five months are. At the moment, I was met with sinking disappointment at least once a month. It felt like years, especially since we got pregnant so fast the first time. To everyone who has been trying for longer than that, my heart goes out to you. I am close with someone who had to wait 18 years to finally get pregnant, and I have no idea how she managed to have the strength to keep trying. It seemed like such a far-off dream that I had a positive pregnancy test a while back, and I just felt like I was never going to get pregnant again, as if I had my opportunity and I lost it. While those desolate feelings didn’t last long, they ruled my life for upwards of five months.
Sara’s pregnancy journey continues here.
