June 11th, 2021. It was Jim and I’s tenth wedding anniversary. That day I was three days late for my expected period. I was breastfeeding, so my cycles were irregular. I wasn’t overly concerned about pregnancy, but knew it was a possibility. I decided to take a pregnancy test out of curiosity. There was a faint line. I immediately sent a picture of the test to my best friend. As we were messaging back and forth, the line got darker. I wouldn’t say I was panicked, but I was definitely not okay. I had a 10-year-old, a 4-year-old, and a 1-year-old. I was just figuring out how to do THAT. How was I going to add another?
A few days passed and the shock was wearing off. I was fixing my hair that morning when I felt a gush. I reached down and there was blood on my shorts. I felt a flood of disappointment and loss. Memories of an early miscarriage years ago flew through my mind. I washed my hands, changed clothes, and called my husband. I phoned the OBGYN who referred me to ambulatory care to get checked out. I stopped bleeding the next day with little discomfort.
When I arrived at the appointment, I was very nervous. I had been down this road before. Frankly, I didn’t even want to go to the appointment at all. I was starting to have concerns about an ectopic pregnancy since I hadn’t yet miscarried. They did an exam and ultrasound. To my surprise we had a well developing baby, complete with heartbeat.
They diagnosed me with a subchorionic hemorrhage. WHAT IS THAT? (I intend to have a blog series on SCHs in the future) Approximately two percent of all pregnancies develop a bleed between the amniotic sac and the uterus. Typically, it clots and reabsorbs with no problem. They told me there was a 50/50 chance of my baby living or dying. I learned more in the parking lot reading a quick article explaining the diagnosis than I did during the little Q&A session with the PA. I’m pretty sure he just googled it.
I researched this topic as thoroughly as possible. There was so little information available. The vast majority of SCH pregnancies end with a healthy baby in a healthy mother’s arms. Some end in miscarriage or premature labor. The worst-case scenario for all was placental abruption. I decided not to go there in my mind. This was a condition with no known cause and no treatment. it was wait and see.
A week and a half later, I woke up covered in blood. Blood, blood, and more blood. I was sure my baby was gone this time. I messaged my OBGYN and got an appointment for an ultrasound. Soon I was looking at an image of a living baby on a big screen. The clot was big. Very big. My poor baby appeared to be a sitting duck just waiting for this clot to rip him or her away from their life source. I was convinced this was the last time that I would see my baby alive. I asked for pictures to take home. I told God if he was going to take my baby, please take them now.
This wouldn’t be the last time I saw our baby alive. The weeks went on. My OB said “If we can just get you out of the first trimester…” I had frequent appointments and each time we did an ultrasound. Baby was thriving. The bleeding was less and less. The clot was shrinking. At my 13-week appointment my OB informed me that he would “treat me like a normal pregnant lady.” I was thrilled! It was time to tell close friends and family that a new addition was coming soon. I hadn’t told many people I was pregnant. The odds were in my favor, but I knew what it was like to have to tell everyone your baby had died. I never wanted to do that again. We went ahead and told those closest to us and people who saw me knew because I was showing. I decided to wait until my 20-week anatomy scan to share this news with the rest of the world.
