Miscarriage – Complete Clinical Spontaneous Abortion
Unsubscribing from a Miscarriage
Babycenter.com is a great site. Good articles, good community, good tools, loads of goodies for new and expecting parents. I used to frequent the site quite a bit as a parenting newb and when the current forums were old fashion bulletin boards I started my journal which eventually transformed into this blog. Even though I rarely lurk there anymore, I mention BabyCenter because for the past few months I have been receiving depressing emails from the site which I am having difficulty unsubscribing from. It is not a technical problem getting the emails to stop from being sent to me, sort of a user error, let me explain.
When Kim was pregnant with Olivia, which was nine years ago, a co-worker first told me about BabyCenter. Originally what attracted me and glued me to the site was the automated weekly newsletter/updates that came via email. It was great for tracking the developmental stages of all my babies and throughout the past almost decade, I have updated my personal information adding each child to my account. I still receive weekly email articles regarding the progress of all my children. I receive one for an eight year old, one for a seven year old, one for a three and three quarter year old, one for a one and three quarter year old, sadly I receive updates for twenty week old in-utero. Sad because our fifth child never mad it past week eight.
Flashback: Only a few knew about #5, my mom was one person who knew. She took the secret to her grave and it suffocates my conscience. Excitedly I told my mom about the pregnancy, unfortunately a week later Kim miscarried. I couldn’t bear telling my mom about it and then shortly after the miscarriage it was too late to say anything.
It went like this; My mom was very sick when I told her about #5, cancer was spreading throughout her body and she was spending twenty three hours a day confined to bed. “Mom, I have something to tell you,” whispering so my sibs would not overhear. “Kim is pregnant again.”
“What!?” shocked out of her morphine stupor.
“Please don’t tell anyone yet it’s still very early.”
With her sense of humor still intact she replied, “Why would I tell anyone how stupid my son is?” Although I’m not completely sure she was joking.
That was the last real bit of conversation my mother and I had. A week after that exchange of words, I didn’t have the courage to divulge the truth and like a child that hides mistakes and misfortunes from their parents I couldn’t tell her about the miscarriage. Within a few days her conciseness had evaporated and a couple days after that she died.
Flashing-back even further: Kim sobbed holding the positive EPT stick. At that moment she didn’t want a fifth child. Unplanned and surprised about the pregnancy, she cried a lot. Conversely I was excited. Four girls, a wife, even a female dog, I was sure #5 was my boy, but I concealed my exuberance and let her use me as a punching bag, after all, it was completely “muyyyy fault.”
Over the next few days Kim’s mood was gloomy and to make things worse she knew I was happy and sanguine about it. Attempting to put an enthusiastic spin on the situation, I mentioned all the joys and love new babies inject into the family. New life, new personality, new sounds, new sibling dynamic, new responsibilities. Being that Sophie was only sixteen months old at the time, fresh Kim’s memory was, she responded with; new baby equates to, no sleep, no breaks, no money, no quiet, no sanity. “All of that is only temporary,” was my reply.
Three weeks after the positive EPT and a few days before Kim’s eight-week ultrasound she started bleeding. “Normal spotting” is what I told her and what I prayed for, however spotting was abnormal for her pregnancy history, I was secretly worried. Two days before her exam and scan she had a “complete clinical spontaneous abortion” which is how her doctor described it. I didn’t need a fancy term to make the memory of blood stained sheets and a blank ultrasound monitor more empathetic, I was crushed and Kim was saddened, tears tracked down her cheeks as the diagnostic technician departed the exam room allowing us a “few extra minutes.” Kim was, “getting used to the idea of #5.” On the car ride home I suggested we could actually try again for a fifth child, Kim said that I was crazy and with that, was the end of my dream for five.
Three months later: Kim had it right. I am crazy. My mom had it right. I am stupid. Not in the context of wishing for another child but for the painful emotional hoarding. Why can’t I just log into BabyCenter and edit my account, removing the fifth child, so that the depressing weekly email reminders of what could have been finally cease? Letting go is not easy.
This entry was posted on Monday, November 14th, 2011 at 11:49 am and is filed under Doctor Visits, FOTB, Kim. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.