“How very quietly you tiptoed into our world, silently, only a moment you stayed. But what an imprint your footprints have left upon our hearts.’” -Unknown

Chris and I walked back to the ultrasound room, anxious to hear our baby’s heartbeat. It is funny how all the frustration seemed to dissipate after waiting for what felt like an eternity.  It was finally our time. Unlike when I performed ultrasounds as a nurse, I was the pregnant one this time.

As the tech began the sonogram, we heard nothing but silence. She continued to move the probe, causing me a little discomfort. She asked,  “How far along are you?” I responded that I was “about 9 weeks.”  She informed us she could not find anything, but she frustratingly continued to search for the baby and a heartbeat.

For a brief instant, she finally provided us with a glimpse of the screen showing the embryo, and we anticipated hearing “junior’s” heartbeat. The tech’s tone quickly turned solemn. “Your baby is dead; I cannot find a heartbeat. I may have just over stepped my boundaries telling you that.” I immediately started to cry and Chris came over to me to comfort me. “Yes, the daddy needs comfort at times like these so it is good you are going over to her,” she stated.  I could not believe what had come out of her mouth. Seriously? After a couple of minutes, she stopped the ultrasound, told me to get dressed, and checked to see if a doctor was available to meet with us. After a few minutes, she returned and informed us that a doctor wanted to provide a consultation. At that point, she escorted us to another room that looked like a storage room and confirmed, “The doctor will see you when she can.” She closed the door.

We sat there for another long, agonizing one hour wait for a doctor to see us. All I could do was weep for my baby. I agonized over what I could have done to cause this, along with wondering how and why this happened to us. Finally a doctor entered and took us to her office. It was clearly the end of her shift. We were in for another big surprise. “You’re having twins.” Chris and I turned to look at each other. We were stunned. How on earth did we have twins? Not even a minute later she conveyed in a matter-of-fact tone, “But they are more than likely dead.” We felt like we had just been run over by a semi-truck.

Long story short, she opined that she did not have any hope of hearing heartbeats. We asked if it was just too early to detect because with twins it may take longer. She said most likely not but offered for us to return in a few weeks for another ultrasound. On the way out, we scheduled our next ultrasound for November 8th. I informed the doctor that I was going to pray for a miracle, and she spoke aloud, “What is the point?”  By now, we had been at the doctor’s office the entire afternoon and were the last to leave.

We left crushed and torn apart, not knowing how to think or what to feel about everything. The next day, I called the office, only to speak with another rude doctor who reiterated what the other doctor had said – they were dead and that I shouldn’t have any hope. What was supposed to be one of the most joyous times in our lives had turned into a nightmare.

Throughout two torturesome weeks, my nights were pretty much sleepless. In between the first and second sonograms, I had my HCG levels checked to confirm whether or not I was still pregnant. Considering my dream the night before my first ultrasound, I had lost all hope on October 25th, especially after three doctors and a tech had asserted that my babies were dead.  I felt as if I was mourning their loss from the start.

On October 31st, 2012, we received the call we had been dreading. Both of our identical twin babies were in the arms of the Lord. My HCG numbers had dropped by over 15,000, confirming all three doctors’ inclinations. Why did this happen? How could this have happened? I wanted answers. I was beyond devastated.

The next step was waiting on the natural miscarriage process to start or to have a D & C. On November 4th, my miscarriage started. I called the OB clinic the next morning and shared it with them. They requested that I come in to get a RhoGAM injection due to my blood type and to schedule another ultrasound for November 13th to see the progress of the miscarriage.

When November 13th had arrived, we were forced once again to wait for another hour in the waiting room with all the happy couples who were given ultrasound pictures of their growing babies. Those long minutes could not have been more painful. To make matters worse, we heard the heartbeat of a baby while walking back to our room. Tears welled up in my eyes.  “That is what we should have heard,” I informed Chris. “That is a baby’s heartbeat.”

It’s de-ja-vu all over again – same table, same tech, same ultrasound. She was very rough with this ultrasound and once again announced, “Definitely no heartbeat. The only change is the size. Nothing has left your body.” I could not believe what I was hearing. I had been reliving this whole nightmare on a daily basis, and I had undergone daily contractions and constant bleeding since November 4th, which were still occurring. How could that be that nothing had left my body?  At this point, we were told to go over to the other OB clinic to see another doctor regarding the ultrasound.

After arriving at the clinic, beat up as one can get, we waited about half-an-hour to 45 minutes prior to seeing the doctor. Throughout this entire ordeal, we had never seen the same doctor twice, and this time was not different. The new doctor informed us that she was very concerned about the ultrasound and fears the possibility of infection. Her recommendation was to go forward with a D & C as soon as possible. The operation was scheduled for November 15, 2012 at Sentara Princess Anne Hospital in Virgina Beach.

To be continued in part three  (12/3/12)…