My Miscarriage

Just one story from a woman in America today.

I will always believe it is the right of the individual to choose what happens inside their own body. I will always believe that “religious freedom,” also means freedom FROM religion and religious persecution. While I am not ignorant of the horrific atrocities suffered by centuries of humans due to the ravages of patriarchal, monotheistic religions and white supremacy, I (ignorantly or idealistically) assumed we were moving toward something better. A part of me has always known birthing people in this country were never entirely safe to choose to have an abortion. A part of me always knew they would come for us. And that is why, as an EXTREMELY fertile person, I have always chosen to be careful about what details I share online about my personal experiences. I recently read a meme that said, “We don’t owe them out stories. It is not up to us to humanize the experience for inhumane individuals.” So, if you are one of those people, who hates women and birthing people so much that you would support this macabre SCOTUS decision, you are evil and this story is not for you. But to the rest of you sweethearts, we are in this together. This is just one of my stories, and I’m choosing to share it with you because it is just another example of how this horrific decision affects us all.

In December of 2019, after a magical trip to NY, our family became very ill. The children had fevers for over a week and we were all completely wiped out for more than two. It is, by far, the sickest I can ever remember feeling. Along with a plethora of severe symptoms, late at night after everyone else had more or less passed out, I would lie awake on the couch having auditory and visual hallucinations of intensely loud and vivid symphony music. I could hear each instrument clearly and see corresponding colors dancing in the darkness. Violins, cellos, flutes, clarinets, trumpets, French horns, drums. It was an entirely drug-free psychedelic experience and while I was entirely too sick to appreciate it at the time, it was strangely beautiful and I will never forget it.

Unfortunately, it shared brain space with more challenging mental health issues, including severe depression coupled with intense frustration and anger that mimicked my emotional state during my pregnancies. I thought it was strange that a sickness could affect my mental health so severely but I was able to work through it. After several weeks and a full course of antibiotics, we were all feeling better. It was then I noticed my period was late. Which was strange because I have a copper IUD, the best contraceptive I have found for myself, and we are always cautious as we have no intention of expanding our family.

I do not remember buying or taking the test. I just know that up until that point in my life, I had never taken a pregnancy test that was negative. I do remember calling my doctor immediately once I found out because I know how rare it is to become pregnant while using this method of birth control. According to Planned Parenthood, the Paragard (copper) IUD is the most effective method of emergency contraception available. If you get it within 120 hours (5 days) after having unprotected sex, it’s more than 99.9% effective at preventing pregnancy! And you can keep it up to 12 years!  But if you do happen to become pregnant there is higher risk of infection as well as a higher chance the pregnancy can be ectopic, which is non-viable but still potentially fatal if left untreated.

I remember lying on the table in the OBGYN’s office, the tacky stick-on decorations, slightly peeling silhouettes of birds and cherry blossoms, on the wall and ceiling above me. I remember wondering whose job it was to stick them on and whether they had enjoyed doing it or just had to get it done. It looked like the latter and I remember feeling sorry for that person who clearly had more important things they wanted to do when they got stuck decorating. I remember the doctor’s giant white want covered in blue goo and a grainy black and white picture of my uterus on the screen. My IUD, a tiny white “T” that should have been centered on the screen, had moved far off to the side. Right beside it was a little blob. 

The doctor asked me if I knew I was pregnant. I answered that I had just found out. I told her I was surprised and concerned as I was trying to avoid getting pregnant and I was definitely not interested in continuing the process. She was notably surprised by this response but adjusted quickly and explained, much to my hopeful relief, that the pregnancy would most likely not be viable for two reasons: First, the IUD would need to be removed whether or not I wanted to continue the pregnancy. Leaving the IUD in and continuing with the pregnancy would very likely result in infection or interfere with fetal development. It was too risky. Second, removal of the IUD would disturb the embryo, very likely resulting in miscarriage. She joked about having once seen a full-term baby born with the IUD stuck to its forehead. I remember thinking her comedic timing was strange. I just wanted her to get on with it. Please, Doctor, remove my IUD or I’ll just go home and do it myself. I know plenty of women who have. And I am absolutely emotionally unaffected by this other than the inconvenience of it all.

So, they did.

And I can’t remember the exact timing of it all, but I believe I found myself staring back up at those tacky birds and cherry blossoms within two days or so. I had to explain the entire situation to another medical assistant who was predictably surprised by the circumstances of it all. Then I waited as she informed the doctor of what I had just told her. They began the ultrasound and within moments the room got very quiet. The doctor explained that another doctor had to come in to confirm the results. They both looked intently at the screen, glanced at each other, and looked somberly at me. It was January of 2020, so no one was masked. I could read their expressions clearly. One of the doctors informed me that there was no heartbeat. I was flooded with relief. There was not even a split-second spark of sadness of regret, just sweet, sweet relief. I must have nodded and smiled as they told me, and must have said something affirmative and reassuring to myself like, “Awesome,” or “Oh, good,” because I could feel the energy shift in the room. We both realized they were not prepared for my reaction. The first OBGYN explained to the second, “Right! Uhhh…to her it’s GOOD news!” Her emphasis on the words was about as subtle as if she had kicked the other doctor in the shin. The second doctor stared hard at her colleague for one beat too long, then turned her stare on me, her mouth curving down on both sides. Then she raised her eyebrows, said, “Well. Good,” and walked briskly out the door.

               I was left feeling guilty, as if in showing my relief I had somehow offended this person. As if I had somehow done something wrong for feeling relief that my body would not be forced to play host to a potential being we were neither planning, nor prepared for? No. I had NOTHING to feel sorry about. I know exactly what it takes to be a mother. It was my first and only miscarriage. I was 36 years old. And do you know that medication I was given afterwards, to be sure the miscarriage proceeded as it should rather than remaining inside of me and killing me? Misoprostol. The very same chalky white tablets you dissolve inside your cheeks as the second step to a medical abortion. Pills that are effective up to 70 days, or 10 weeks, from the first day of your last period. Simple, effective, and in my case no more painful than a heavy period. And of course, after that, the emotional darkness and deep despair I had felt along with my other pneumonia symptoms those first few days of 2020 began to make sense. It was no coincidence my emotional state was so similar to my past pregnancies, as I was, in fact, pregnant, and this time it was exacerbated by a virus. And now, that darkness, that hopelessness and despair, had lifted. I was free to continue on with my life.

               I walked out of the office alone that day, as always. Every experience at the OBGYN is lonely. I think I sent a text to my husband and probably to my mom and best friends. But I had no one to call. Everyone I love was going to give me gentle sympathy, which is fantastic, but I wanted to celebrate! I was no longer caught in the web of an unwanted pregnancy. I was free. And every single birthing person deserves to feel that kind of elation, whatever their reproductive path may be. Some of us want babies like we want breath. And some of us want anything but, with just as voracious of a passion. All of us want to live long, healthy self-determined lives. And that is why I will never stop fighting for access to abortion. Never.

Source: https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/birth-control/iud