Tuesday, July 2, 1991
I am 3 months into my pregnancy. Since the doctor wants to keep a close eye on me, he has asked I come in for an ultrasound. I had my appointment in the evening so that Richard could watch Jared and Sarah. I have never had an ultrasound before. I was looking forward to seeing what it was like.
I was hooked up to a monitor. It was so exciting to see the baby! Even though I was only 3 months along, the baby looked perfect! It was as if he or she was stretching its little arms out to me. I couldn’t wait for the baby to be born! I asked the technician if he could see if it was a boy or a girl. He told me it was too soon to tell.
As the technician looked at the screen, I could tell he looked concerned. Then he called one of his coworkers and shared his screen. Then I heard him say, “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. Thanks for confirming my concerns.” Then he hung up the phone.
I asked the technician what was going on. He told me, “I am going to make you an appointment to see your doctor tomorrow.” I asked again what was going on. The technician said he wasn’t allowed to discuss it with me, but my doctor would talk to me tomorrow. I started to cry because I knew there must be something wrong with the baby.
The technician put his arms around me and tried to comfort me. He said, “I am so sorry! I do this job because I love seeing the development of unborn children. I don’t do it to give expecting mothers bad news. I am so, so sorry!”
I asked him if he could tell me why my baby had died. The technician said it didn’t make sense to him. It looked like I was right on track with where I was supposed to be in my pregnancy. The only thing was there was no heartbeat. He said he or she must have just died, or no longer than a day or two ago. And there was no way for him to tell me why the heart had stopped beating.
The technician told me to make sure not to have anything to eat or drink past midnight so that my doctor could do a D&C on me in the morning.
When I got in the car, I cried hard! It was awful to be by myself at a time like this!
When I got home, I told Richard the sad news.
Even though the baby was no longer alive, I was grateful I was able to carry him or her for one more night.
Wednesday, July 3, 1991
Richard took the day off work to drive me to the hospital, where we met with my doctor.
When I woke up from the D&C, the doctor told me there was no way of knowing why the baby had died, but the good news was I could try again in two months.
Monday, July 15, 1991
I am so excited to finally get my cast off! It still hurt to walk on my foot, so they X-rayed it. The two bones that I had broken off were still broken. The foot with the cast looked smaller than the other.
They told me there was nothing more they could do for me. In time, my body should absorb the broken bones. The doctor assured me that my foot would return to normal in a few months.
My foot never did. One foot is a size 6 and the other a size 7. It is so frustrating every time I buy shoes.
The insurance we had at the time was called FHP. It was the same insurance we went through when I had the first miscarriage (Family Health Plan). The insurance company went bankrupt because so many people sued for malpractice. My friend Terry said, “FHP stood for Fatal Health Plan.” She wasn’t kidding!
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