Thursday I went in for my eight-week pre-natal exam, and my first ultrasound. The regular ultrasound tech wasn't working that day, so my OB did the ultrasound herself. Jack and I were excited about the ultrasound because this was the one where we would not only see if there were mutliple fetuses, but would also get to see the baby's heartbeat for the first time.

We started to get worried when she kept manipulating the ultrasound wand, but couldn't get any definition beyond seeing that there was a sac. There was no clear sign of a fetus, and there was no sign of a heartbeat. After about ten minutes of trying to get a different angle and trying to get something, she finally told me that she couldn't find a heartbeat. Normally in this case, she said, she would think that maybe the patient wasn't correct about how far along they were, but in my case, since I was inseminated, there was no question that I was eight weeks along. And, they should definitely be able to see a heartbeat at this point.

Her office is in a hospital, so she called down to the hospital's radiology unit and arranged for me to go and get another ultrasound with their machine which was much more high tech with much better resolution. Jack and I went downstairs, but by this time I was already crying. It didn't help that I looked at the order my OB wrote for the ultrasound tech, and saw that it said "Ultrasound STAT, R/O fetal demise."

After an agonizing wait of about half an hour, we were brought in, the technician introduced herself, and we started over. This time the screen was turned away from me so I couldn't see what was going on, but Jack was standing behind the tech and watching the screen, and I kept watching his face. About a minute into it I asked the tech if she saw anything. "I'm still looking," she said. I keept looking between Jack's face, and the tech's face, and the ceiling. It went on for about ten minutes, but I didn't dare ask again if she saw anything. At this point I didn't want to know the answer. She kept manipulating the wand for about ten minutes, and then my OB came in and watched the monitor with the tech. "Have you found a heartbeat yet?" she asked. The tech shook her head. "Have you been looking a long time?" she asked. The tech nodded.

I really started crying at that point. I'd been doing enough reading to know that by eight weeks you should definitely be able to detect a heartbeat. "I'm so sorry," my OB said. Then she explained to me that there was nothing that I'd done, or hadn't done to have caused this, and that statistically 30 to 50% of all pregnancies are miscarried. I was in full blown tears at this point, but I nodded because I did know all that. Jack held me for a while, and I knew that he was dying the same way I was. They brought in a radiologist then, who did yet another ultrasound. He looked at it, and muttered something about lack of development and no heartbeat, then shook his head, offered his sympathies to me, and left.

Then my OB explained to me that right now my body just hadn't recognized yet that something was wrong, but that in the next day, or the next week or the next few weeks... at some point I would miscarry. She gave me my options--wait to miscarry naturally, or have a D&C. I didn't think on it long. I just knew that there was no way that I'd be able to go on for the next few weeks waiting for it to happen, knowing that my baby was dead.

Jack and I were at the hospital at 6:30 am and I was in outpatient surgery being prepped for the D&C by 7:15. Once again I looked at the surgical orders--D&C: fetal demise. The next hour was spent in prepping me--starting my IV, talking with my OB, talking with the anesthesiologist, going over last minute questions. Around 8:15 they wheeled my stretcher into the pre-op; I got that surreal experience of staring up at the ceiling watching the fluorescent lights pass overhead as they wheeled me down the hallway. When I got into the pre-op they asked me a few more questions, and then started giving me drugs into my IV line.

I woke up around 9:00 to people calling my name and an oxygen mask on my face. I was asked if I was in pain, and I told them I only had a little cramping--not too bad. But they gave me a couple of shots of demerol in my IV. By about 9:20 I felt fairly decently awake, and by about 10 they took me back to the first room I was in. I spent the next two hours waiting for my IV to finish, since they were giving me pitocin to reduce bleeding and help shrink my uterus. I was finally brought home by about 1 in the afternoon.

I've thought about it a lot since we first got the awful news, and I'm still certain about our decision to go ahead and do the D&C. We were able to get closure this way--get it over with and spedd up the process of starting over, because we will try again. I was showing no signs of miscarrying, so who knows how long it might have been until my body clued into the fact that things weren't happening the way they were supposed to?

I try to see the good in all of this. The most amazing thing was when my two youngest stepdaughters (14 and 18) came to me and gave me big hugs and told me how much they loved me. We'd always gotten along well, but that show of affection was incredible.

I'm still doing a lot of crying, but it's getting better. It helps that Jack and I are in adamant agreement that we are going to have a baby, no matter how long it takes. Right now it's just a matter of waiting until my body is ready again.