I was married at the ripe old age of 18 to the love of my
life, Robert Hudson. Our love story is a
little unique. He is 16 years older
than me. When we married he was 34. I am the oldest of 6 children. My career of choice is homemaker. I was excited to set out on our Grand Pioneer
Adventure in the Oklahoma Panhandle. Fancifully expecting phenomenal fecundity,
like my mother, I wanted to start a family right away. 3 months later the magic double lines
appeared on the sacred wand of motherhood.
Mission accomplished! Not knowing
much about pregnancy, I thought it would be several months before I needed to
see a doctor. So I took my time in
choosing one and making an appointment .
In the meantime I gleefully ate everything in sight and gained 10
pounds. When I started bleeding I
consulted my mothers antiquated medical encyclopedia. Besides learning that rabbits had to die and
that smoking was perfectly fine during pregnancy, I also read that spotting in
the first trimester is normal as long as
there is no accompanying cramping. Did
that set my mind at ease?
Absolutely! I proceeded to go
swimming. The next day the bleeding was
heavier, but still no pain. So I insisted on going to church and then to a
friends house for lunch. This was a
weekend we were spending with family in Oklahoma City. I had never met my doctor in Guymon. I didn’t have any number to call. And it didn’t occur to me that I might need to ask some
professional advice. Until after
lunch. Reality came crashing in with the
waves of pain. Several hours later I was
holding a small mass that I suspected was my baby. I know now that I was probably 10 weeks. I was devastated. I was expecting to have a child, not a bloody
blob of tissue. Ten days later I was still
weak. Still bleeding some stringy
stuff. My mom took me to see an OB-GYN
that my father-in-law knew. Since my
father-in-law was a med mal defense lawyer for Mercy Hospital, I didn’t know
whether to be relieved or worried. Had
this guy been sued before? Dr R.
turned out to be a very soothing older gentleman. He performed a D&C and showed a lot of
concern for me. I really appreciated his
manner. Within several months I was back
to my old self and waxing philosophical.
These things happen. Nature was
just doing a trial run. Working out all
the kinks. Next time everything will
work out just fine.
Nine months later I was pregnant again and feeling very
positive. Armed with statistics I
proudly announced my new condition and made an appointment with my friend's
doctor in Guymon. I had heard very good
things about Dr S. This was going
to be an awesome pregnancy. At about 6
weeks I had the opportunity to enjoy a traditional Nicuraguan breakfast with my
next door neighbors. Mr F. was the
county’s only doctor. And he didn’t
deliver babies. But he did make
fantastic Nicuraguan tamales. I
thoroughly enjoyed my cultural experience.
Until the food poisoning hit. I
was one sick puppy. Dr F. heard I
was ill and very graciously made a house call.
He even had a little bag with a stethoscope. I told him that I had just begun
spotting. Could food poisoning hurt the
baby? He thought it very unlikely. The bleeding was just a coincidence. And normal.
And no, rabbits weren’t being slaughtered anymore. My mom really should get rid of such an old
encyclopedia. I felt very
reassured. Over the next two weeks I
continued to spot off and on. So I called my doctor to see if there was
anything that should be checked. Blood
tests were first in order. So I drove an
hour west, to Guymon. Two days later I
returned to the office for the results.
The blood work didn’t look good, but no one really explained that to
me. I was feeling very nauseated, had
been ever since the infamous tamale incident.
I took that as infallible proof of a healthy pregnancy. So when they wanted me to drive over to
Texas County Memorial Hospital for an ultrasound, I was thrilled! Enthusiastically slurping my Big Gulp, I
skedaddled right over. Bladder nearly
bursting, I could scarcely contain myself or my excitement. My first ultrasound! The technician was cautious. She couldn’t discern a heartbeat. How far along was I? Hmm, maybe my dates were off. Back to the Dr’s office. This was my first time to meet Dr
S. He shook my my hand, but didn’t
really look me in the eye. He cleared
his throat and began talking about hormones and blighted ovums. Huh?!
I had seen the term in the back of my new “What To Expect When You Are
Expecting” book. It was in the
“Pregnancy Loss” section. I hadn’t read
that part yet. It was Dr S's turn
to be surprised. “The ultrasound tech
didn’t tell you? I thought you
knew. I’m so sorry…” He trailed off into silence. What to do next? My choices were 1: a D&C-my second,
2:medications to induce at home or 3: wait for nature to take care of it. I was concerned that another D&C might
scar or weaken my uterus or cause incompetent cervix. I also nursed the hope in the back of my mind
that maybe my dates were off by a week, or two, or three. Foolish, I know. But still, I was most comfortable with waiting.
I was extremely miserable waiting.
One week went by, then two. I was
approaching my third week of waiting and the end of my rope. The doctor said that if nothing happened by
Friday than to come in for a shot of something that would make things
happen. That hour long drive was really
beginning to get to me! It’s an hour of
nothing. No traffic, no traffic lights. Just two stop signs. And tumbleweeds. And dust.
I got the shot and a prescription for something that I was supposed to
take once I started bleeding. I filled
the prescription the next day. The
pharmacist asked if I was having heartburn.
“No sir, just trying to have a miscarriage. Thanks, have a nice day too.” In the space of nine months my newlywed
friend had twins. I had two
miscarriages. I was 19.
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