Miscarriage

I wanted to write down my experience before I completely forget what happened.

This happened in 2021, about 5 years ago already. So I might have already forgotten some details. But here goes.

We had been trying to conceive for about a year. He wasn't very keen on having a child, but he didn't want me to feel resentful if we didn't have one either, so we agreed to have one child. Just one. Because childbirth is painful enough and having a kid would be very stressful and expensive.

After approximately a year of trying, it happened. I didn't get my period despite being super regular, and he started to suspect that I was pregnant. I was like nah, but he bought me a pregnancy test kit and it was positive. I was like okay, I'm for sure pregnant then. The test kit says 99% accuracy or something. But he was like wait no, it could be a false positive. You need to take another pregnancy test.

I can't remember if I did take another pregnancy test or not. But I remember that we both knew that I was pregnant. Since we had decided to try for one child, he wanted it to be done right. He researched for what he thought was the best doctor. The one with the most positive reviews online. We also looked up when we were supposed to go for the appointment, and the internet at the time said 8 weeks. We also found out that you had to count the number of weeks or days from the first day of the last period, which it weird because the woman isn't even pregnant yet at that point, but whatever.

So we waited till it was week 8 and we visited the doctor. In the meantime, I was listening to podcasts about pregnancy. I wanted to know what it was like. The podcast I was listening to was quite reassuring, because they said that there are so many symptoms and so many things could happen, and all these were normal. Yet at the same time, there were so many symptoms and you didn't know what was going to happen to you, which is scary.

I didn't even really consider that a miscarriage would happen. But I did do some research about when it was appropriate to tell people that I was pregnant, and they said after 12 weeks. It made sense just in case a miscarriage did happen and you'd have to tell everyone the bad news. So I did not tell my friends. My partner and I only told our parents and I told my sister. She was disgusted, as expected lol. My partner actually told his friends, and I was like WHY did you do that? I'm not sure if he later regretted that decision.

Anyway, we were at the clinic on September 1st and there were lots of baby photos and success stories on the walls. It was colourful and supposed to look nice. We had to wait quite a while before it was our turn. We exchanged pleasantries with the doctor and I had to lie down to be examined. Just like I imagined, and just like in the movies, they put this weird gel on my stomach and they tried to look at whatever it was inside me through an ultrasound scan. Since it was a private clinic, it was fancy. When I lay there, I was facing this screen that was at a comfortable eye level. 

Anyway, the doctor said he couldn't see much so he had to use a different method. What he and the nurse did was to take out this extremely long device that looked longer than any dick I'd ever seen (yes even in porn), which made me freak out because I was like wtf how's that going to go into my vagina? And also, dicks are made of flesh. This device is some metallic thing that's harder than any dick will ever be. While I was freaking out on the inside, they smeared a fuck ton of lube on it. Up and down. The entire length of the device was covered. They said it was going to be fine, perhaps some minor discomfort. But nope. It was painful. I was shocked that the device could go in. And I just had to bear with it.

The doctor used the device (according to the internet it is called a transvaginal ultrasound) and poked around inside. I looked at the screen but it was all black and white and grey, and I didn't understand what was going on anyway. I couldn't make out anything. It was just random shapes and movements. The doctor found the embryo and took pictures of it. I think we got to keep the pictures, but I don't know where they are now. After I cleaned myself up and put my clothes back on, we sat at his desk and he told us the bad news: he couldn't find a heartbeat.

If I remember correctly, I just started crying. But of course, the doctor said that he would try to save the embryo. There were things that could be done. After some reassurance, I probably stopped crying and my partner asked him questions like whether or not my terrible sleep schedule would affect the baby. The doctor said no as long as I had sufficient hours of sleep, and I was happy with his answer.

Again, I can't remember exactly but I think I had to go into a separate room to get my blood tested? I don't know. It was probably the same day. They basically found that my body wasn't producing enough of a pregnancy hormone. It was hCG or progesterone? We had to return the next day and they injected it into my body. I also had to take some tablets. Then they said I had to return a couple of days (or was it a week?) later so that I could take another shot. I joked that the baby was a druggie.

In short, I was poked and prodded a lot. It was gross and as always, I hate going to see doctors. 

Life went on as usual. I'm not sure what happened. But I already had a bad feeling once the doctor said that there was no heartbeat. I knew that it wasn't going to happen. And if it was going to happen, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. My partner tried to stay positive for me. He tried to cheer me up but I was pessimistic.

On the day of the second injection, I started bleeding on the way home. It was just a little bit of blood so we thought it was spotting. And spotting was normal during a pregnancy. I mean, if you asked the internet about it, they would say so. Like I said, there are so many possible symptoms that you might get during a pregnancy. It could be spotting, but it could also be the start of a miscarriage! Who knows?

Anyway, obviously as you can see from the title of this post, it was the latter. It was a Saturday night and I couldn't sleep because of the pain inside my uterus. And at that time, I would usually sleep early (or at least earlier than I normally would) because I had a morning lesson to teach on Sunday. But I couldn't sleep because of the pain. It was like period cramps, but ten times more painful and therefore ten times worse. I could sleep through cramps. In fact, sleeping through cramps is the best way to not deal with it. But this pain kept me up. I went to the toilet and sat there hunched over, in pain and bleeding out from my vagina. I didn't switch on the light because I didn't want to disturb my husband, but in the end he's such a light sleeper that he woke up anyway and I had to tell him what was going on.

He panicked a little. Obviously I was in great pain so he offered me panadol, but I wasn't thinking straight so I said no, I'm pregnant so I shouldn't be taking random drugs. Then he went to call the doctor and even though it was the middle of the night he managed to get hold of him? So the doctor told him to bring me to the nearest hospital and that panadol was ok. 

I put on a huge pad and ate some panadol. He drove me to the nearest hospital. By the time I reached the hospital, the panadol was starting to kick in and I was feeling better. It was 2021, so we had to wear masks and he wasn't allowed to accompany me in due to covid-19 restrictions. But the hospital was freakin' EMPTY. Was it 5.30am or something? 

A nurse told me to rate my pain and instinctively I was like, I don't know? How would I know how to rate my pain out of ten? What's the scale like? I felt like I needed to see some marking rubrics or something. Oh my god. What has the education system done to me? Anyway, I randomly told the nurse that it was 7, but now that the painkiller has kicked in so maybe a 3? She probably wrote it down. I don't know. But I later went online and the internet reassured me that 7 was appropriate to say, because 7 meant that it was so painful that you couldn't sleep. Yup, 7 was the correct answer. I still can't stop being a Singaporean student even when having a miscarriage lol.

I had to wait for the doctor to see me. Despite the fact that I was completely alone in the waiting room, I had to wait for a very, very long time. They told me this was because the gynaecologist who was on duty that night was still making her rounds. So I had to wait. But it was boring. The TV was on but there was nothing good from 5-6am. And you couldn't really hear the sounds from the TV well.

Then a nurse popped by and told me I had to do a urine test. I took the cup from her and went to pee, but there wasn't much pee. Instead, there was a lot of blood. So when I returned the cup to her, it was mostly full of blood. It was disgusting. The nurse looked at it and said that wouldn't do. I told her that the pee and the blood comes out together. She tried to show me how to pee into a cup by doing some kind of weird half-squat and putting the cup below her, which made me laugh. I wanted to tell her that it didn't help, but it was nice of her to try to demonstrate this to me. I listened to her and went to drink some water from the water dispenser, waited for a while, and tried again. She was happy with the second cup.

People in the medical industry are weird. But in a good way. They've seen it all and they don't care how stupid they look when they are trying to show you how to pee into a cup and not get all the blood from your vagina in there.

In the meantime, my partner had to wait outside. With the mosquitoes. 

Oh and the nurse came to tell me that the doctor was finally coming after finishing her rounds. She also told me that she waited for the blood to go down and she could take the pee sample from the top. 

I found out that the film on TV was called Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. Jack Black and Steve Carrell were in it. 

Anyway, the doctor finally arrived, and I went into the room where she was. It was a female doctor, which was oddly comforting. My pad was already almost full at this point. When she told me to lie down so that she could examine me, I was like really? I have to pull down my pants? There's a lot of blood, and I'm going to leave blood everywhere and stain the examination table. She said it's ok, she'll put paper towels. So fine. I lay down and she examined my bloody vagina. 

She used the device on me again and showed me the ultrasound. It was on a screen to my right, and I had to crane my neck to look at random black shapes. Then she told me that it was gone. And I replied, good. I think she was surprised to hear that. Maybe she expected me to cry. I don't know. I was too tired and all I felt was relief.

She poked me a lot to remove the bloody tissue that was in the vagina. It felt like she was scraping stuff out of me. And she put the bloody tissue in a container and showed it to me afterwards and asked me if I wanted to see it, causing me to back away from her in disgust which then caused her to laugh. Yeah, like I said, medical people are strange. She said some people would like to keep it and I said ewwww no need, thanks. She told me the cup of bloody stuff was going to be taken to the lab for testing just to make sure that everything was ok. I would have to come back for another appointment. 

She said she'd prescribe me medicine to pass everything out, and also strong painkillers in case it became even more painful. I think this was because I emphasised how concerned I was about the pain. It was nothing I've ever experienced before. Also, she told me that it was going to be like a period but if I'm soaking through pads in 2 hours I have to go back. I would have gotten a 1-week MC if I was working at a company, but as a freelancer I didn't need to show anyone an MC.

I went to the counter to get the medicine and gigantic pads. By the time I came out of the hospital, it was 7.30am. I cancelled my lessons for the day and we went back home to SLEEP.

Oh yeah. This was 12 September 2021. But the story didn't end there. Because as the doctor said, I had to go back for the follow-up appointment on 20 September.

Oh wait. Before that. Even though I would get a 1-week MC as mentioned, I went back to work. As a freelancer my timetable was pretty chill anyway, and I was already fine. I think most of the blood came out on the day I went to the hospital, and it wasn't that painful anymore. I was worried for nothing.

On 16 September, I was supposed to meet my secondary school friends for dinner. These gatherings are arranged way in advance and I usually attend. I should've told them sooner that I couldn't make it. I only said that I wasn't coming at the very last minute. Told them not to order dinner for me. Told them I was too tired and went to the hospital on Sunday and was still on MC. It was strange. I was deliberately vague since I didn't know whether I should tell them I had a miscarriage. According to message history, I only told them on 25 September. I didn't go into detail though. I didn't feel like talking about it.

Anyway, back to the appointment on the 20th. My mother volunteered to go to NUH with me, so I had to eat lunch with her. Of course we told our parents and my sister about the miscarriage. I was so glad I didn't tell anyone else. My partner had to update the friends he told. I was kind of like see, you shouldn't have told.

Going out with my mother is exhausting. We went to the hospital and my mom brought me to a shop that sold ugly noodles. Not worth the money. I didn't like my mother's decision to eat there. We waited at the hospital for my turn and she annoyed me by saying that if I was pregnant I didn't need to work so much and I could just rest for a year. I was like shut up, no more baby already. She kept complaining non-stop about her husband (my father) as usual. I started regretting going to the hospital with her. But at the same time, I hated going to see the doctor so I preferred to have company. Ugh.

I can't remember what time the appointment was supposed to be. Maybe 2-2.30pm? We were on time and I thought I could still make it to my 5pm lesson. But we ended up waiting the entire afternoon so I cancelled it. Public hospitals are dumb.

While waiting, a random woman came up to me and politely asked me if I wanted to take part in some kind of research study or whatever. She assumed that I was pregnant. I told her I wasn't.

And this was when I lost it.

I thought I was fine and I was perfectly fine when I found out that it was gone. I said 'good'. Even before the miscarriage, I already knew and kept saying that it was dead. Or it was never alive, since there was no heartbeat. It was just an embryo, a clump of cells.

But to have to sit there in a waiting room full of pregnant women? And to be asked to take part in a study for pregnant women? I don't know. I lost it. It hit me hard. I was fucking pissed. How dare you assume that I'm pregnant? I could be here for a variety of reasons, right? Why couldn't this person ask all the other women who were visibly pregnant? Why ask me, of all people?

Maybe because I verbalised it. I said I'm not pregnant. Then I felt sad and angry. I held in my annoyance until the random woman left. I was so triggered that I started crying.

My mom was like, what's wrong? This horrible woman. She was with me the entire time, but she was probably too engrossed ranting about her husband in her head that she didn't notice what happened right in front of her. Or maybe she was watching TV. I think that might explain why she was quiet.

(To clarify: when I said I lost it, I don't mean I started crying hysterically like a mad woman. No. We were in public. But yeah, I lost control of my emotions)

When I finally saw the doctor, she said it was normal pregnancy tissue. Nothing was wrong with me. My mother asked if it was a blighted ovum, and I don't know what that is. The doctor said we should ask the private doctor because he did the initial scan. I don't really know or care. I can't remember if I was crying again.

The doctor said to wait for two cycles before trying to get pregnant again. And then they poked me again down there to see if everything was fine. My ovaries are healthy. Everything came out. My uterus is empty. Whoosh. All gone. By the time we left, it was 5pm which was supposed to be lesson time. This miscarriage was costing me money since I couldn't make it to lessons. Annoying.

And you know what? On the way out, they told me to come back a month later for yet ANOTHER follow-up. Why the fuck would I want to come back to a room full of pregnant women? To be poked? To wait for hours just to see the doctor? To miss opportunities to earn money? No fucking way. I did not go back. I cancelled the appointment in October.

I felt angry. Like my body had betrayed me. It didn't do the thing it was supposed to do. It was unfair. Why were all these women pregnant and I wasn't?

See, society is fucked up. They have you believe, ever since you're a girl, that you're supposed to get married, get pregnant and have kids. And in the media, you see pregnant ladies all the time right? On television, in movies and all that.

And how is miscarriage depicted? Usually, the pregnant character gets pushed by a violent person. Like a criminal. Maybe a robber, a terrorist, or an abusive husband/boyfriend. Maybe the pregnant lady in the story was in a hostage situation. Or a car accident. I don't know. Take your pick. As long as it's stressful, chaotic, violent, messy and dramatic. Not to mention, she's also usually HEAVILY pregnant. Then when she falls down or gets pushed or when the car crashes, she gets hurt and blood starts trickling down her leg. That's when you know she miscarried.

So that's what I thought a miscarriage looked like. I guess it makes sense in the film/media industry because that's the most visual kind of miscarriage. But it's so stupid because most miscarriages actually happen in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, when you don't even know that the woman is pregnant. But nobody talks about this or portrays it in the media.

After the miscarriage, my father told me that it was ok because my mother had a miscarriage before too. And I was like, well why didn't she talk about it? Why does no one talk about it?

And of course it's the shame. According to my sister, my mom used to say that miscarriage happens to women who did something wrong in the past. Wtf? What kind of dumb boomer belief is that? And this was coming from the woman who miscarried before as well! At least, according to my dad. And she's a nurse. Not exactly a woman of science, though she likes to pretend that she is.

It's also because of the way miscarriage is portrayed in the media, everyone thinks that it's the woman's fault. Like oh, she shouldn't be out and about when she's heavily pregnant. Then she wouldn't have fallen down or gotten pushed!

But what about the men? What if it's their lousy sperm? It takes two hands to clap. But no, people blame women all the time. (To clarify, I'm not saying my husband's sperm is lousy. I don't know, I don't care. He didn't get checked so who knows. That's not the point I'm making) It could just be bad luck. Why blame it on anyone? 

Anyway, I told my uni best friend about the miscarriage. It was probably when we hung out after we attended our classmate's wedding. I think he looked traumatised by my story. It was funny. He said I was crazy (or rather, siao) for not wanting to go to the hospital at first. I forgot to mention that earlier in this post. I'm very resistant about going to the doctor. I didn't want to go to the hospital because I read online that it could happen naturally at home, and I didn't want to have to go through some kind of procedure. I thought I could just deal with it on my own, to be honest.

I also told my secondary school best friend. He was sympathetic too, and he even treated me to a meal that was delivered right to my doorstep. (Covid times) But at some point he made an insensitive comment. He told me to go make more babies, as a joke. I told him it wasn't funny and he apologised. It was too early for such jokes.

I vaguely remember someone asking me if I did anything wrong. I can't remember who it was. But I think it was a guy, and he asked me if I might have done something to cause the miscarriage to happen. By accident, of course. I got angry. It was a dumb question.

I've told the story at least twice on Twitch live streams so far. It's an interesting story even though it made me feel all sorts of feelings. And I think in general, we should talk about miscarriages more.