In my previous post I told you that I suffered from a missed abortion at 9+2 weeks in early February. My body thought the pregnancy was going just fine and had no plans to miscarry, yet the fetus inside me was already dead. Consequentially, my genaecologist ordered an emergency d&c at the hospital.
Calling the hospital
I was free to choose amy hospital I wantes for the procedure. This is something I value about the German health care system as in the UK it is more complicated unless you happen to have private insurance. Still, calling the hospital that I thought best felt daunting. Having to make the call was like accepting that the abortion happened, and I wasn’t ready for that.
Not to mention my dislike of hospitals in general. I am rather squeamish about wounds and sicknesses and afraid of needles. Relinquishing control over my body, even to highly qualified doctors and nurses, makes me feel helpless, broken and furious at the same time. Let’s just say there is a reason Bubsi was born in a midwive-led birth centre.
At any rate, here I was. Calling the hospital. And being told to come in first thing in the morning.
Hospital on Tuesday
They could not tell me on the phone whether I would have surgery the same day. So I had to show up on an empty stomach and bring a backpack just in case. When I got there they made me sign tons of papers. I had to visit three different departments to sort out the necessities and everywhere people were friendly but slow. After a second gynecological assessment and giving some blood the death of the fetus was confirmed. Also, I was told to come in for surgery on Friday as they were fully booked.
My surgery day instructions
The doctors also told me that there was nothing I had done wrong. As if that helped any, but I suppose they have to say something. That it could happen again, and it would still not be my fault. Just there is this risk of miscarriage and it is really high in each pregnancy. I cried anyways. Even more so when they talked me through the drill. The risks of the procedure and all. Like, chances to become sterile. Or them accidentally poking through the uterus walls injuring internal organs. The joys.
Biding time with a dead fetus inside
When I got home I felt terrible. The next few days were a blur of emotions. My mom came to help me with Bubsi because I did not want her to have my mess of a self around only. She could only stay for a day but it helped some. All the while my body continued to act pregnant. It had me completely fooled, and without the ultrasounds I would have never known the truth. The baby inside me was gone, yet there. It felt so wrong. My body seemed to be betraying me, and I still lack confidence in my body’s signals now – weeks later.
D&C day
Finally it was Friday, surgery day. I came in with a friend who had kindly offered to drive me. I had to swallow two pills that would facilitate access to the uterus. They caused vaginal bleeding even as I was being admitted. My friend had to leave while I was brought to a room which I would share with two other patients. Both of them had it worse than me, but that did not really lift my moods. The only thing I was looking forward to was the general anesthesia: uninterrupted sleep for the first time since Bubsi’s birth.
A nurse picked me up at 3pm and rolled me and my cranky self two floors down (yes, empty tummies get my mood up real good!). Eerie, being rolled in these hospital beds. The anesthesist was called Dr. Smartie (kid you not!). I laughed so much when she introduced herself I felt embarrassed hours after.Then the anesthesia started working and I was out.
The D&C process
Post surgery
When I woke back up only 30 minutes had passed. I was pissed. Even Bubsi lets me sleep longer than that. They brought me back to my room with an infusion. Finally I was allowed to eat and drink, you have no idea how ravenous I was at that point. Five hours later I was allowed to go home, with bleeding and strong painkillers. But without baby.