Ten years ago today, I lost my first baby during the second trimester of pregnancy. Looking back, it’s remarkable that the pregnancy got as far as it did, having been fraught with problems from the very start.
The doctor I had at the time was absolutely dreadful. When I told her that I was having problems, she said I was being paranoid. She said that first trimester bleeding was “normal” and resolutely refused to refer me for an ultrasound. I tried to point out that every hit I got on Google disagreed with her, and she proceeded to make me feel like an idiot for having researched my symptoms.
What did I know, right? She was the doctor, and she made it very clear that she was the one with the knowledge.
Her attitude only got more arrogant and patronizing after my husband and I took matters into our own hands and went to the emergency room, where an immediate ultrasound was ordered. There was the baby, with a heartbeat and everything. The growth wasn’t what it should have been, but that did not deter the doctor. Apparently I was so stupid that I did not even know when my last period had been.
Not that I’m bitter or anything. I mean, the doctor had the worst bedside manner in the history of doctors, but it’s unlikely that better treatment would have changed the outcome. I was devastated when I lost my baby, but to be honest, I wasn’t all that surprised. No part of me had expected that this pregnancy would go to term.
The doctor could have helped prepare me, though. Perhaps if she had just been honest about what was almost inevitable, if she had told me where to go for support, the aftermath would have been easier to bear.
Or maybe it wouldn’t have.
Yes, it probably wouldn’t have.
I’m still mad at her though, after all these years. No-one deserves to be treated the way she treated me.
I always feel conflicted on this anniversary.
On the one hand, there is sadness, a feeling of loss, and a “what if” kind of wondering.
But on the other hand, if that baby had lived, I wouldn’t have George. And I just cannot imagine life without George.
Sometimes I wonder if perhaps the whole chain of events happened for a reason, that all along it was leading up to the arrival of this beautiful boy who had been waiting in the wings the whole time, just waiting for his moment to be born.
My baby took a piece of me with her when she died. But she gave me so much more by paving the way for George’s arrival.
My heart goes out to you Kirsty. Thinking of you and lots of gentle hugs and love on its way. xxxx
I am one with you in remembering and grieving your loss, Kirsten! I can imagine how bad you must feel, esp. towards your doctor! I’ve had a similar experience before, i.e. one where the doctor (a pedia in our case) would seem to think me silly for researching on things or signs and symptoms that our kids would have. Anyway, it’s a good thing we are “bigger” people and have moved on, right? Prayers for you on this memorable day! I am sure your little one is smiling down on you from heaven now!
HUG!!
There are no words of comfort for a parent who loses a child … no matter what age of the fetus/baby/child! 🙁
That said, that “doctor” should have her medical licence withdrawn!! It REALLY makes me angry when doctors don’t pay attention to their patients’ concerns, because it inevitably leads to a tragic outcome!
My grandfather was an “old school” doctor and he always said; “I may know more about medicine than you do, but YOU are the EXPERT on your own body!” Smart doctors DON’T act smug, snide & superior. If you come across a doctor like that RUN AWAY and look for a doctor who listens to you!!
Beautifully written Kirsten. I am sorry for your loss. No mother should ever lose a child – it’s just too painful.
There are many events and decisions in my life I regret and am sad over, but then I remember if not for them I would not have met my beautiful daughter and I cannot imagine my life without her in it, nor do I want to. In the end I can’t regret the events that preceded her because without them she would not have had the chance to be born into my life. I get what you are saying about George.
I’m wondering after reading this, if you found yourself in a position again with a doctor who isn’t’ willing to listen to your wisdom about your own body, would you stay with them, or change doctors? I’d like to say I’d change doctors if it were me. I’d hope that it would be that simple. Not having been in the position I don’t know because when it comes to pregnancy things can get complicated.
When I was pregnant with Tara I heard so many horrible stories about maternity hospitals, and obstetricians (knowing everything and not listening to the women themselves about what was going on for them which lead to unfortunate outcomes, not for the babies as such – as they were delivered regardless, but for the mothers who went through a lot in the process that perhaps they shouldn’t have – emotionally anyway) that I opted for a home birth to keep out of a system that scared me. Through the homebirth scheme, I was looked after by a group of community midwives who were invested in asking me what was going on for me, and who respected my wisdom and managed to intermingle their experience and knowledge into the process. They are the most wonderful women I’ve ever met and I felt a huge sense of loss when I was discharged out of their care after Tara was born.
I am biased here in that I’ve never been a fan of doctors (there is a story here about my own childhood that’s connected to my mother). I know they have a place and I hope I never have to place myself in their care. So far I’ve always looked for the alternative and have been lucky enough to find it and have it work out for me.
I had a very similar experience after three miscarriages. I guess they paved the way for my son Aaron. Thank you for sharing. It has been hard for me to talk about my miscarriages but reading about your experience helped me.
I’m so sorry for your loss. And for the shabby way in which you were treated. I do like the idea that your first paved the way for your George. Perhaps she prepared you, and your body for him. That’s a lovely thought.
I echo what Marie and Alison have already said: I am sorry for your loss and the horrible way you were treated. I had a miscarriage between our two older sons and have the same feeling… if I hadn’t lost that baby, I wouldn’t have this stunning middle child who lives with us now. Take care. x