All things are possible with God—including surviving a miscarriage.

Well, this wasn't exactly what I was expecting for my first "real" entry. In my little introduction I stated I would like to keep a record of those things which I would hope to never forget. Well, I will never forget our baby Jordan, but honestly, I wouldn't mind if the details of Jordan's death became a little fuzzy.

This is where we are now...

I first noticed the bleeding Thursday morning. I thought it was just the typical spotting I got after having sex. When I woke up Saturday and realized I was still bleeding I decided to call the 24/7 nurse hotline associated with my health plan. I figured I would explain the situation and they would assure me that everything was fine and just to make sure I mentioned it to my doctor at the next appointment. Unfortunately that wasn't the response I received. After going over the situation and answering a ton of questions, the nurse on the other end of the phone calmly told me, "You need to go to urgent care within the next four hours."

I was stunned. John immediately could tell something was wrong and he packed a diaper bag and got Emerson ready so that we could go to the hospital. We arrived at 9:20. Unbeknownst to us, urgent care doesn't open until 10:00 on Saturdays—very urgent. Needless to say we were the first ones to get registered and see the doctor. When the doctor was able to see me he did a speculum exam. He told us that the cervix was open which was causing the bleeding and there were two probable diagnoses: placenta previa or miscarriage. I was praying for placenta previa and was trying to brainstorm how to handle bed rest and take care of an 8-month-old and two dogs. An obstacle I would try to overcome in order to hold a healthy baby in 6.5 months.

The nurse came in and attempted to draw blood in order to test different hormone levels. I say attempted because she missed the vein—twice. She finally succeeded with a vein in my right hand. The doctor ordered an ultrasound and we waited for a few hours before they could get the on-call ultrasound tech. So we waited. Thankfully, little Emerson did as well as she could for not being able to crawl around all over the place.

My wheelchair escort arrived and they took me back to the ultrasound room. My MIL hadn't quite made it to the hospital yet, so John stayed in the room with Emerson until she got there. After Teri had arrived to watch Emma, John asked if he could go back with me (it had been close to 45 minutes at this point). The nurse replied, "No, I don't think so." So he was left to wait with his mom and our baby.

It was a very lonely hour and a half in the ultrasound room. With Emerson we had an ultrasound done at 10 weeks so I knew at least what a developing baby should look like that this point. I remembered two circles (head and body) with four limbs sticking out—not to mention the little round mass expanding and contracting with each heartbeat. She even looked like she was boxing the wall of my uterus. I knew at least that much. I also had just read that by 12 weeks the baby would be at least 2 inches long. When the tech moved the wand across my stomach I could immediately tell something was wrong. There was a lifeless being that barely measured 2.5 cm. After 35 minutes the tech changed to an endovaginal ultrasound. (On a side note, an endovaginal ultrasound is like 50 times worse than a standard gynecological exam. Goodness!)

When she switched to the internal ultrasound she moved the screen to where I almost was unable to see what was going on. However, I could see when she was trying to find a heartbeat. She tried again and again and again to find any sign of a heartbeat. I laid there for 15 minutes while she kept trying and trying, but it was useless. My underdeveloped baby's heart was not beating. The technician did not say a word. After the longest 15 minutes of my life she said in a very flat tone, "Well, I guess that's all we need then."

I was taken back to my room and told John and Teri what I thought I had seen on the ultrasound screen. I was still hoping I was wrong and that it was placenta previa, all the while knowing what I saw for myself on the ultrasound. At this point Teri took Emerson back to out house to put her down for a nap and to let the pups out. An hour or two later the doctor finally received the radiology report and came to tell me the news: there was not a viable fetus in my body. He left the room and contacted the OB doc for my clinic that was on-call (Dr. Perry). He came back and stated that I was to call Dr. Perry Monday morning and he would see me in his office at that time and they'd probably admit me for a D&C. If I had any severe cramping or bleeding I was to go straight to Labor & Delivery.

John and I left urgent care in a shock-like state. It was a beautiful day outside, but it was hard to appreciate considering the news we just discovered. When we got to our car we just hugged and cried, knowing we would never get to hold our Jordan—at least not in our physical bodies. When we got home we told Teri what the doctor had said. I called my side of the family and Teri would let everyone know on John's side. After my mom woke up and the news registered, she drove out to our house from Iowa.

All day Saturday John and I tried to stay busy and keep our mind off of things. My mom got into town at about 11:30 pm. After she got here we all decided to call it a night and we went to bed. Sunday morning came and we tried to just go on with life as usual. I was surprised at how few moments there were where I really broke down and cried. When I did it was only for a few minutes and I just prayed for God to give me strength. It wasn't that I was trying to avoid dealing with the pain of losing a child, but I do think I was trying to postpone a lot of the emotion until Jordan was no longer actually in my body. That was one of the hardest parts of the entire situation—knowing that Jordan was still within me, dead. The very thought made me sick to my stomach. Since we had a babysitter already at the house, John and I decided to get out and we decided to see a movie at the dollar theater to take our minds off things.

When we got home I basically parked it in the recliner and didn't move a whole lot. John and my mom took care of me and Emerson so I could lay low and hopefully not worsen the bleeding. I went to bed around 10:30 and tried to get some sleep. I woke up around 1:00 with some pain in my abdomen. It was enough to keep me up, but I didn't know if it was "severe" enough to go to the hospital. I finally decided to call the doctor and he said I should go in. At the time I didn't put two and two together, but looking back I realize now that those were contractions and they were coming every 3 or 4 minutes.

John and I got in the car and headed to the hospital. The pain was greatly worsening and the contractions were getting closer together. We pulled into the parking lot and headed to the Labor & Delivery entrance. The lights seemed off and the second automatic door would not open. John got back in the car and we drove to the main entrance. We hadn't exactly gotten around to touring the hospital at this point in the pregnancy. We figured we could at least get a wheelchair and get me over to the right department as it's not a very big hospital. When we got to the main entrance I felt something "give." Sure enough as I stepped out of the car I felt the amniotic fluid drip down my leg. Not only that, but the sign said that the main entrance was closed after 9 pm and we were to use the L&D entrance. Before I had stepped out of the car, I had told John to go park and meet me in the lobby. So there I was with fluid dripping down my legs and I knew I needed to start walking to the car. On my way toward John I felt a hard contraction and the baby came. Definitely was not planning on having the baby standing there in the parking lot. I made it back to the car (he wasn't far) and John helped me in so that we could drive back to the L&D entrance. Thankfully there was a plastic grocery bag in the backseat for me to sit on.

John helped me out of the car at the L&D entrance and got me into a wheelchair. He got me into the building (apparently, we had to manually open the second automatic door—who knew). I started wheeling myself toward the nurse's station while John went to park the car. I told the nurse that I was 12 weeks along and was having a miscarriage. As soon as the words came out of my mouth I could not stop crying—shaking and crying. Thankfully, Dr. Perry had called and they were expecting me. They wheeled me into my room and we met John in the hallway so he followed. They helped me into the restroom and asked if I wanted to see the baby. I think I told them no. It was very humbling to have two grown women take off my blood stained sweatpants and clean me off while shielding my eyes from the lifeless baby that was caught in my underwear. The next few moments are pretty blurry, for that I am thankful. I know that the afterbirth came while I was sitting on the toilet and I was mostly cleaned up before I was helped into a hospital gown and up into bed. The nurse put in an order for pain medication at 3:00. The next two hours I was still having painful contractions every 2 or 3 minutes and I would pass more clots ranging from dime-sized to over golf ball-sized.

Because of the sequence of events, I signed all of the consents and paperwork and all that AFTER most of the initial care had been given. I about passed out when the nurse administered my IV (same thing happened when they started my IV with Emerson, too). I'm just not good with needles and things of that nature. 5:00 am rolled around and I still didn't get any medication for the pain. A little while later she did bring me some, but by this time the worst contractions were over. The burning sensation of the medicine going through my IV actually hurt worse than the contractions I was having at that time. After that dosage, I didn’t accept any more of the pain killers. John and I tried to get some sleep. I woke up again at 8:30 or so and called Mom and Teri and gave them an update. Shortly after that Dr. Perry and my nurse stopped in to say that it looks like my body naturally expelled everything and they asked if I was hungry. I immediately responded, "I'm starving!" as I hadn't eaten anything since 4:30 the night before. Thankfully, they were going to allow me to eat breakfast.

John called the kitchen and ordered breakfast for me and it was delivered shortly thereafter. Dr. Perry had stated that he wanted an ultrasound done to verify that there wasn't anything left within my uterus. Around 10 or so they brought a wheelchair to take me to the ultrasound room. It was hard to look away from the empty screen which showed that my baby was no longer in my womb. At least this time I was able to have John by my side. Unfortunately I had to have another "internal" ultrasound, but John saw that I was not exaggerating when I told him how big it was. It was very comforting to have him right by my side holding my hand.

Again, we had to wait quite a while to get the results of the radiology report. We were assured that the ultrasound was just precautionary and we would be able to go home early afternoon. At noon John ordered lunch for me. Not knowing how much longer we had to wait for the report and all that, John ran home to get the computer and a book for me—anything to occupy myself besides watching TV. He also had Mom follow him back to the hospital with Emerson. It was great being able to see them. After John left, the nurse came in to inform me that I wouldn't be allowed to eat the lunch we had ordered. There was still "product" left in my uterus and they would need to perform a D&C. Basically the doctor would need to use instruments to go in and scrape out any tissue or anything left inside. This way my body would be able to heal as soon as possible and there would be less bleeding and that sort of thing when I left the hospital. The kitchen also brought up the lunch we had ordered. So there I was, alone in the room with the surprisingly delicious smell of a lunch that I couldn't eat.

At that point I decided to call Teri and update her with the fact that I would need a D&C. It has been a blessing to be able to talk with her about this as she has gone through five miscarriages. One of the things I had been struggling with is almost feeling guilty for NOT falling into some sort of a horrible depression. She said to praise God for the grace to make it through the situation and to praise Him for keeping me out of a depressed state. That's not to say that I haven't been grieving for the loss of our Jordan, but life goes on and I do still have an 8-month-old little girl and my husband to care for.

John, Mom, and Emerson made it to the hospital and I was so delighted to be able to hold my little girl. (It's going to be really hard to NOT really baby and coddle her in the next few months). In order to get ready for the D&C they had to discharge me from the maternity ward and admit me to the operating room. They transferred me at 2:30, but apparently they were really behind in the OR so we waited for at least 2.5 hours before I even met with the doctor or the anesthesiologist. There definitely wasn't any comfortable seating for John and my back was getting sore from lying in bed all day.

I was able to sleep for at least one of those hours while I was waiting. Finally, they came back to get me. It started to hit me when I was speaking with the anesthesiologist what was about to happen. At that point I was thankful that my body took care of most of the miscarriage itself and that I didn't have to think about them scraping the fetus away from the uterine wall. They were just removing the little leftover layers of tissue and things that hadn't come out with everything else. I knew I could handle that.

I woke up from general anesthesia at 6:45 pm. I was confused at first as to where I was, but I quickly figured out it was the recovery area. My nurse was busy with a different patient and when she finally realized I had come to she brought me a couple warm blankets and some crackers and a can of soda. I just kind of laid there and looked around while I waited for the nurse to finish my charts and all that. I was still cold so she brought me another blanket (making a total of four), even then I was cold. At 8:15 pm I finally got to see my husband. I was relieved to see him and I was relieved to have everything out of my body.

Random observation: The labor I endured with Jordan was actually more painful physically than the labor I endured with Emerson (thank you, mr. epidural).