Just Flush It – (Part 2/5)

6 Jun

*Please note that there is some graphic content within this post.*


The results popped up onto the bottom left hand corner of the screen.


That was it. It was over. The baby was gone.

“I’m so, so very sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whispered.

“It’s ok.” I answered. But, it wasn’t.

“I’m supposed to get the doctor, so you can talk to her. Are you up for that?” She asked, apologetically.

“Yes. That’s fine.” I was numb.

She walked out of the room. I got dressed.

She came back, “The doctor is in with a patient. Do you want to wait for her, or should I have her call you?”

“I can wait.” I answered. It didn’t seem real.

She took me to an exam room, so that I could wait for the doctor privately.

I checked Facebook, I played Candy Crush. I looked at the clock.

As I sat, it felt less and less real. More and more like a dream.

I waited. And I waited.

I sent a text to Mr., “I’m waiting to see the doctor. I’ll let you know when I am done.”

I waited some more.

All of the sudden, I wasn’t feeling well. I was tired. I was cold. My stomach ached.

I wanted to be in my bed. Forever.

I continued to sit there, waiting.

I adjusted in my seat, feeling uncomfortable. I felt an odd sensation, and not a good kind of odd. I looked at the clock again.

I had been waiting for 45 minutes.

Flashes of middle school horror came rushing back to me, as, I all of the sudden, realized I was bleeding.

I’m not prepared! I don’t have a pad on! I don’t have a change of clothes. I don’t even have a pad with me! I’m pregnant, what do I need pads for?! AHH!!!!

I decided to walk down the hall to the nurses station. At the very least, they had to have a newborn diaper or something they could give me, right? Then I could make it home and deal with things.

Let me back track for a few seconds, here.

My miscarriage last fall, was at 5-6 weeks. There was hardly any cramping. It was just like a period, really. *That* is what I was expecting.

I quickly and quietly explained to the nurse what was happening, “I am here because I am waiting to see my doctor. I think I’m having a miscarriage. I’m not prepared at all. Do you, maybe, have a pad, so that I can at least get home?”

The nurse nodded and said she would go see if she could find something. I responded, “Okay. I have to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

I walked into the tiny bathroom and took a deep breath. I sat down on the toilet. GUSH!

I was so confused. And scared. What in the world?!  I looked down. I had blood from my abdomen to my knees.

I glanced in the toilet. There was so much blood, I couldn’t even see to the bottom of the bowl. I was in shock.

I had to pull myself together and get home. Urgency set in. I knew this was the beginning of something incredibly awful.

I cleaned myself up the best I could. I cleaned up the toilet seat, and some spots of blood on the floor.

I flushed, washed my hands, took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.

The nurse was rounding the corner, “Here,” she says. “This is all I could find.” She hands me a pad no bigger than my hand.

“Ummm… thank you.” I answer her. I feel obligated to put it on, even though I know my problems are much too large for this tiny thing.

I walk back into the bathroom. I sit down and feel an odd pressure. I adjust a bit on the seat. Extreme cramping causes me to double over in pain. Seriously, Lord. Just let me die. I am in pain. I am embarrassed. I am miserable. I feel nauseous, so I sit up a bit, trying to locate the trash can. As I sit up, I feel something emerge from my body as my muscles involuntarily contract. I want to scream, but, I am in a doctor’s office bathroom, I can’t. I look, cautiously into the toilet to see what was there. There it was. A mass, about the size of my fist, dark, and oddly shaped. I knew in my heart what it was. It was my baby.

I quickly put the pad into my underwear, stood up, and opened the door.

The doctor was coming down the hall. I needed help. I needed to know what to do.

I nervously approach her, careful not to actually leave the door of the bathroom.

“I think I may have just, umm… passed… ummm…. you know…. the…. ummm….. baby.” I said to her, hushed and sad.

“Ok….” She said, clearly wanting more information.

“It’s in the toilet. What should I do?” I asked.

“Oh.” She said, nonchalantly, “Just flush it.” She made a downward waving motion with her hand, and turned and walked away. I stood there a minute. Halfway down the hall, she turned around and said, “Just go on home, I’ll give you a call later.”

I was in such a state of panic. My baby is in a toilet, and the crazy doctor lady wants me to flush it like a goldfish. Do I dare reach my hand in and get it? If I do, then what? Should I just flush it? It? When did my baby become, “it”? Focus. Flush? Don’t flush? I was getting frantic. As I stood in the door of the tiny bathroom, I glanced down into the toilet. All I could see was bloody, murky water. As I stood as close to being out the door as I could, I quickly reached out my foot and hit the handle of the toilet with my shoe. Woosh! The water disappeared, and with it, my baby. I didn’t stay long enough to even see the bowl of the toilet fill back up. I rushed out of the bathroom, down the hall, out the door, through the parking lot, to the safety of my car.

With shaking hands, I dialed Mr.’s number. As the phone rang, the tears started to flow.

“Hello?” he said.

I’M BLEEDING REALLY BAD! I JUST PASSED THE BABY IN THE TOILET! THE DOCTOR MADE ME FLUSH IT! I’M COMING HOME NOW!” All my words were frantic and running together. Coupled with my sobbing, I’m surprised he got anything out of it.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But I am.” I answered.

“Okay. I love you. Be careful.” He said.

“Okay. I love you too.” And with that I hung up.

I turned on the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. I drove home in silence, hot tears constantly streaming down my face.

The next few hours blur together. I remember lying in the tub, limp, uncaring, not knowing what to do with all the blood. I remember thinking I was going to die. There was so much blood. I remember Mr. being there, looking worried and sad.

At one point, a friend called, and asked how I was. I told her I had lost the baby, and that I felt like I was bleeding a lot.

Within 20 minutes, she was at my door, telling me to go to the ER.

I went. They monitored me. The doctors and nurses there were so kind. They kept me in private areas, instead of public waiting rooms. The doctor’s words were so gentle, as though his own wife, at some point in his 50-something years, had once experienced this same loss. He apologized. Once I was stable, they did an ultrasound. Everything looked so different. There was nothing there. Just a big, grey screen.

I remember getting home, and crawling into bed. I remember staying there. I remember waking up in the morning and wanting, no, needing to see my kids.

As the days passed, and my heart ached, I thought things would get better. They didn’t. It felt so incomplete.

After about a week or so, after the kids had gone to bed, Mr. and I were sitting in the living room.

“Do you think we should name the baby?” he asked me.

“Yeah. I think we should.”

“What do you want to name it?”

“I’m not sure. But, when the right name comes, we will know.”


3 Responses to “Just Flush It – (Part 2/5)”

  1. Jen June 6, 2014 at 2:02 pm #

    Sounds so incredibly like when I lost my first little girl….I dont really know if she was a girl or not bc I was only 2 months along, but I just had to name her! I named her Myka Renee. I soon after became pregnant with my now 7 year old little girl. To this day, my 7 year old sends balloons to her sister in heaven and asks questions I cannot answer.

    I am so sorry you have had to go through this! I STILL miss my sweet baby and I often wonder about her. She would be 8 now. What would she look like? would she have been just like her sister? would she have brown eyes or maybe blue? Things I will never know, but i do KNOW that just as soon as she passed in my tummy she woke up to seeing Jesus’ face!!!! She gets to hang out with all of my passed family that is there and all of the other children who got to meet Jesus so soon.

    I pray that this time of grieving gets easier for you! many many hugs!!!!


    Myka, Jada, and Isabella’s mommy 🙂

  2. Rashelle June 6, 2014 at 6:10 pm #

    oh my god honey I’m so grateful you’re able to express and share them off of an incredible story of survival to help the next person may God continue to bless you and I love you , Cousin Mr. and my baby cousins


  1. My Miscarriage Story | just like dandelions - June 26, 2014

    […] Part 2, about actually miscarrying the baby is a little graphic, but worth it. […]

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