Statistic

My plans with girlfriend-in-town M two years ago tomorrow were made of the stuff that girls love – bookstore, pedicure, lunch, movie (Must Love D.ogs), friendship. She was there the day the babies were taken off the ventilators, and she was there when my first pregnancy miscarried.

As it was my first pregnancy, and our wedding was barely two months along, wannabe dad and I literally told the world. At first we were only going to tell our parents and siblings. Then it spread to best friends. Then the circle of friends. I’m sure it went beyond that as well.

Then 3 weeks later, I suppose I was at about 5 weeks, the bleeding started. Dark brown at first for about a week and a half. Worry worry. Shit, this can’t be happening. I called the 8oo# to get the advice nurse (this is the place that starts with a K and ends with an aiser), who told me not to worry and that it happens all the time. I got an appointment after work, and the u/s showed that all was still intact, the NP said not to worry, but if [insert telltale signs here] happens go straight to the emergency room. That was a Friday, if I remember correctly.

It was Sunday – cramping at the bookstore, throughout the pedicure, throughout lunch, throughout the movie. “We need to go to the hospital,” I told wannabe dad when we got home from the movie. I passed a sizable amount of tissue: grayish, feathery. I saved it in a cup and brought it with us to the hospital. On the slip in the ER, I wrote “possible miscarriage” on the reason line. The nurse who checked me in relayed her story about bleeding throughout her 3 successful pregnancies, she said not to worry.

I think I passed the remaining tissue in the restroom right before the young ER doc saw me. Another u/s. He very clinically explained, “What you saw on the u/s a few days ago isn’t there, so it must have passed.” I was so numb, not fully comprehending, not crying, not screaming. I didn’t need a D/C which was I know now a good thing. I don’t remember much physical pain, just cramping like a period. M held the cup in the waiting room. Nobody asked for it.

Then I cried every day for the rest of that week.

At the follow-up appointment the NP relayed statistics to me: 40%. It happens all the time. Next time we’ll monitor your levels. I became a data point.

We untold the people we told. I waited three days to tell my Mom, that was really really tough.

The following week my face played poker while I worked at a 4-day long convention at McC.ormick Pl.ace, going through the motions.

Two weeks later we were on our honeymoon in Per.u. The location was wonderful, the timing was sure bad for romance. In our pictures you couldn’t tell that my innocence was chipped away, ever so slightly. I watched the hurricane unfold on the only English-language channel in the hotel.

To my dear baby, You would be 17 months old or so; chubby, walking, talking, adored. Your Auntie M was there when you left my body, and she was there when your sisters left this world. We are lucky to be blessed with friends like her.