What Lies Ahead…No Way of Knowing.

The OB took the time to discuss the two options available at this point due to the level of bleeding. B did not need a blood transfusion, but the level of bleeding along with the increasing pain did intensify the desire to make a decision to end this nightmare.

Option 1: [paraphrased] OB: “I can go in and try to grab the material. This would be uncomfortable, with sharp pain and pressure, but if I am able to get the material out that would avoid a procedure. If I cannot get it out, we will need to do the D&C.

B: “What do you think?” she asked me with pain written all over her face.

Me: “I do not know, it’s up to you. What do you think you can handle?” I held her hand. “I guess the least restrictive procedure first, if it’s not too painful. Avoiding surgery is always good, right?”

B: “That’s what I was thinking.”

B decided to allow the doctor to attempt to grab the material first and if the pain was too intense or if the doctor was unable to do whatever it was she was doing, B would have the D&C.

B popped her legs in the stirrups and the doctor went in with the scariest set of forceps I have ever seen.

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I held B’s hand and felt the whole of her grasp as the doctor started poking around and grabbing…she had a miner’s light on her head attempting to look inside. She said she was able to see “something,” but was not able to get anything.

B squeezed, winced, and moaned. I could not imagine what this must of felt like…I could just think was going through her head. [I was excited to be pregnant. I was going to have baby. Now, now I am laying on a hospital bed, hemorrhaging with a doctor grabbing what was going to be my child out of me with a tool.]

It didn’t work.

The doctor stopped and said she was not able to get anything. She explained the basics of the D&C and added a piece of optimistic information. “The D&C will clean you out. With other patients, this has seemingly aided women in getting pregnant if you choose to try again.” I don’t think B cared about thinking that far ahead at this point, she wanted this over. She went to surgery. I went to the waiting room.

After 45 minutes or so, the doctor came in and told me the procedure went well and she was doing well. I went back to hang-out with her until she was ready to go home. She was a little out of it, but relieved the pain was gone and she could sit-up without gushing blood.

She had some healing to do, but this disaster was finally over…at least physically.

About two weeks following the procedure, her younger sister called to inform her she was pregnant and apparently the due dates would have been approximately two weeks apart. This was the proverbial twisting of the knife.

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