In Review - Weeks 5 & 6

In the midst of deep sadness from loss

*Trigger Warning* this newsletter speaks on miscarriage. If you are sensitive to this or other related issues, proceed with caution.

This is my story. It includes snapshots from my recent miscarriage resulting in an emergency Dilatation and Curettage (D&C) as well as my postpartum D&C that occurred one week after delivering my first born son.

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When you are within the cycle of grief

Its hard to step out and speak well

Its hard to navigate emotions

They all have a story to tell.

They all are ignited and on display

The sorrow, denial and fear

They all keep you grounded and yet still displaced 

In the moment you let them come near.

They may roll in like a thunderstorm

With lightning and thunder and hail

They may step in like a monsoon, where

you succumb to the rain and you sail

Sail down the street cause you can’t use your feet

And you can’t use your arms to get by

The water is too much a natural force

So you let it take over your life.

You let it take over, and don’t try to change it

You cannot control what’s been done

The cycles of grief let you weather a storm

Where there’s no an end to overcome.

-Adjoa Skinner Webb

- Photo by Jess Koehler, taken less than 2 weeks before I gave birth to my 1st born son

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Last week Wednesday I had dropped my son off at daycare. One last squeeze before letting him go I said quietly, “Mama has to go to the Dr today to hear the new baby’s heartbeat”, the childcare worker looked up and softly said “Congratulations”. “Its still early” I replied meekly and headed out to the hospital to for my first ultrasound appointment. With Covid regulations being what they are I couldn’t have my husband in the room physically so I face timed him in my hospital gown. My OB said we could do the ultrasound first so he could hear the heartbeat. I faced my phone toward the screen anticipating a first view of our second child… but there was nothing there. My Dr continued the ultrasound, searching around my uterus. My heart began to race, like it wanted to emulate another heartbeat inside of me. My husband on the other end of the video call unsure of what was happening, waited for my Doctor to explain. “We are going to have to do some tests” she said. “This is going to be a waiting game more than anything else, because at this point we cannot determine the location of your pregnancy.”

That waiting game continued through the week with one test and ultrasound after another. We knew that the baby wasn’t going to make it to our arms. At this point it was finding out how best to make sure I was able to get back to health. The question of whether or not we would ever be able to have a child again looming in the air. In between those unknown moments I held my son. His blissfully unaware toddler joy providing the sweetest kind of bedrock for my heart.

Then it happened, it was three days ago on SuperBowl Sunday. I’m not a big football fan, but we were excited to watch the game as a distraction. My husband ordered pizza and we were determined to get our minds off waiting for the test results from my OBGYN. By the time it was halftime we were out the door to the closest Emergency Room open on a Sunday. I was having a miscarriage.

As soon as I got out of the car to make my way to the doors of the ER a considerable amount of blot clots dumped out of my body soiling my pants completely. I stood in line at the ER masked up and hunched over with my husband’s support. “No visitors allowed, she’ll have to go alone”, said the attendants” I responded in tears, “If my husband can be there when I’m having a baby, why can’t he be there while I’m losing it?” More blood dumped out of me, I could feel it running down my leg. “Sorry ma’am, no visitors allowed”. My husband squeezed my hand as they took me away in a wheelchair, “I’ll wait in the car, just keep me posted, I love you.”

Sitting in the ER dumping out blood clots for hours on Super Bowl Sunday wasn’t how I imagined things to progress through the week. “You have two options of how to move forward at this point”, said the Emergency Room Doctors. “You’re currently stable, but you’re losing too much blood for us to let you go home without being operated on. We have to remove the pregnancy tissue in the uterus to make sure you don’t continue bleeding.”

I had something happen like this once before, when my firstborn son was just one week old. I remember sitting on the toilet, blood streaming out of me while he was strapped to my chest sleeping. Hot tears poured down my cheeks as I tried to get a hold of my husband through a bad phone connection. “Call the nurse” he said “I will be there as soon as I can, just breathe baby, breathe!”

Breath… Breath felt like a luxury now as I lied on a hospital bed overwhelmed and nearly choking on tears and snot collecting in the two COVID masks I had to wear. “Do you want to be awake for the operation or under anesthesia?” asked the Doctors. A few doors down a baby was screaming. I could hear my son’s voice in his cries.

I just wanted to get back to my son. My son… I remembered his one week old body sleeping on my chest as the blood dumped out of me. Breathing was hard in that moment too, but it was because of the pain from labor and delivery. I could feel my stitches popping from the delivery as the blood dumped out of me like water. I remembered my best friend saying to me over the phone, “I’m coming over now, don’t worry”. My body shook as I felt the blood coming out of me. “Don’t pass out, don’t pass out”, I repeated to myself as I sat alone in my home with my infant son. I had made a promise to solely breastfeed him. He was completely dependent upon my milk. I didn’t have any formula and I hadn’t pumped any milk yet because I’d only been home for less than 4 days with him. I sat on the ground next to my son asleep in his bouncer as the nurse on the phone walked me through the next steps. “Unlock the door, that way if for some reason you become unconscious before the paramedics come they can still get to you.” My best friend was the first one who came through that open door, she swooped in and picked up my tiny sleeping babe out of his bouncer. Although she had only met him for the first time earlier that day, I knew she would care for him as if he was her own child. The paramedics came shortly after, followed by my husband who at the speed of light somehow made it across town in time to meet me at the doors of the ambulance. It was the first time I would be away from baby. The thought of leaving behind my infant child struck panic through my limbs. Yet, I couldn’t take him with me, I had to go alone they said. My body was breaking, and my heart followed suit.

That day in 2019 felt so vivid to me as I sat in the ER this past Sunday, all the trauma and triggers hitting me with the reality that I was currently miscarrying. I heard a “Hello?” at my door. A man with scrubs as colorful as his personality stood awaiting entry at the sliding door. The Doctors looked confused as to who he was, “Thats my new nurse”, I said, “My last nurse told me that her replacement would be coming and she had to leave”. “Oh okay, well, take your time to speak with your husband over the phone Mrs Webb, but we need to know what your decision will be.” They left as my new nurse came in with a flurry of information. My mind reeling as my back pain leveled up to the early labor pains I felt with my first born. This time however, it was the contracting of my uterus to expel the pregnancy tissue out of my body and finish its process of the miscarriage of my second pregnancy. Large pools of blood clots settled underneath me, soaking through the bed pads and staining the hospital sheets. My nurse introduced himself amidst a bevy of questions. I looked at him blankly when he asked if he could get my consent for what kind of D&C I wanted. I paused and took a breath. “If you don’t mind, I need about 5 mins to collect my thoughts before I make this decision. May I first get some new chuck pads to go underneath me? This one is soaked with blood and I’m really uncomfortable.” “I can bring you a diaper”, he said cheerfully, and then looked at me again. “Alright, if you were my wife, this is what I’d want… Call your husband and see if he can come and collect your things and then I’ll personally go get him and escort him to your bedside so he can be with you.” My heart exploded with gratitude at this sweet angel of a nurse who knew all I really wanted in that moment was my husband close by my side. After they had my negative COVID test results back the nurse escorted my husband my bedside for support and to gather my things before the surgery.

A new Dr came in. “We want to get your consent Mrs Webb, knowing the situation with your past D&C we think it best you have the operation in the OR. We don’t want you to undergo any unneeded trauma if possible.” I looked at my husband who upon arriving had already helped me change out my bloody chuck pads. I saw the pain in his eyes as he watched me lose our child in pools of blood. “Do what you feel is best” he said.

After I consented to the surgery in the operating room things moved along quickly. Before I knew it they were wheeling my bed to the OR and transferring me to the surgery table. Within minutes I was asleep from the anesthesia. I woke up after the surgery feeling like the blood had been drained out of my body and like it was the middle of the night, both were true. I was so tired and almost equally as nauseous. “I can give you something for the nausea” said my outtake nurse. Skeptical there wasn’t a hitch, I asked about the side effects. She replied, “Oh its either diarrhea or constipation, but I can’t remember which one.” I opted out of the nausea medication and rode home gripping a green vomit bag.

Thankful that my husband stashes gum throughout our car, I chewed that minty fresh flavor like it was a thanksgiving feast. We arrived home without an incident. Our front door was already open as we pulled into the driveway. Standing here in the doorframe was my mother cradling our wide awake toddler in her arms. She had weathered the evening with our little guy making sure he was alright. “Mama, Dada” he shouted as we got out of the car. Selfishly I was happy to see him, even if it was the middle of the night. I stripped off all of my clothes as fast as possible and rinsed all the hospital germs off of me and threw on my pajamas in warp speed time. As soon as I lied down next to him in the dark, my heart rate slowed down. For the first time in hours I could breathe again. As my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see his little frame rise and fall with each breath as he started to fall asleep. While he nursed on me, my eyes heavy from the day’s events, I said a simple “thank you God” and fell asleep.

The Morning after Mourning

The morning after mourning

There’s a stillness in the air

Theres a scent of sweetest flowers

From loved ones who’ve shown they care

There’s an aching in the body

There’s a healing in the soul

There’s the tears that make their way out

So your heart can overflow.

The morning after mourning

There’s a calm, a chill, a space

Where the memory that once was

Becomes what you cannot erase.

Its now another part of you

A part you hate to know

Teaching you an empathy

That in time you must show.

The morning after mourning  

There’s an ache in your resolve

There’s a pausing in the moment

Through the ways you must evolve.

And the things you choose to handle

You will handle them with care

Cause the morning after mourning

You are now much more aware.

-Adjoa Skinner Webb

Days later as I write this, time has stood still. Friends and family have dropped off food and flowers. Although most of our community cannot surround us physically due to COVID regulations, they’ve shown an incredible outpouring of love through their calls, emails, texts and support.

We don’t know what happened with our baby, why the pregnancy location was unknown, why it led to a miscarriage or why I was hemorrhaging so badly. What I do know is that I am grateful to be where I am, to have my son and my husband and my friends and family close by. I count myself entirely fortunate to get the care that I have gotten through modern medicine.

According to the March of Dimes, “for women who know they're pregnant, about 10 to 15 in 100 pregnancies (10 to 15 percent) end in miscarriage”. According to the Mayo Clinic, “The predicted risk of miscarriage in a future pregnancy remains about 20 percent after one miscarriage”. According to VeryWellFamily.com, “Research suggests that between 10% and 20% of women with a medically confirmed pregnancy will end in miscarriage”.

Today my family is one more number added to those statistics. I share my story because in sharing there is healing. I also share my story encouraging others who have gone through something similar. To you, I say, I see you. You are known. Take the time you need however short or long to go through your grief cycle and make it through to the other side, each time.

To those who have not gone through something like this, thank you for reading this. Grief is a circle. It shows all its stages in the strangest ways. My hope is that in reading it you are able to support your loved one through your presence. In my experience, allowing them to have their own unique experience of mourning is the best support you can allow. Your loved one might be in the middle of their grief cycle. If how they are responding might seem different than how you would, don’t judge. Be with them in whatever stage they are with no agenda on your part. If you want more insight into the stages of grief, check out my previous newsletters from week’s 1-4 here.

WEEK 1 - On Death

WEEK 2 - On Anger

WEEK 3 - On Acceptance

WEEK 4 - On Denial

Just saying to the person grieving, “I’m so sorry, I’m here for you, What do you need?”may be the best thing you can do. Advice really isn’t the best option, as it may not allow them to navigate their own pathway ahead with their own circle of emotions. Offering condolences to the father/partner as well is important. I know I’ve been guilty of not allowing my husband the space to go through his grief in isolation cause I’ve been craving connection. We haven’t gotten it figured out, but we are doing what we can to at least come to the table together in whatever shape we’re in. Life is messy. Theres no quick fix or easy answers. There’s just grace, towards yourself, your partner, your family, friends, even random strangers we come across. A woman at the park last week asked me if I was planning on having more children. It was an innocent question, just the timing of it was rough.

“A thought to help us through these difficult times: Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. - Ian MacLaren (Rev. John Watson)

This new place

Who is this new person

That’s been released in me

Letting go of so much

Slowed my striving, to be free

To become more of who I am

But never met before

I was on a journey

And I’ve finally reached the shore.

What is this new island

And what is here that I

Can learn to live and thrive in

Before the day I die?

I want to have a reason

I want to have a way

So I can breathe my last breath

And with clear conscience say

I have done what I have done 

I’m feeling, yes I feel

Through my every feeling

Get to places I can heal.

Healing is a process 

Towards finding my true way

It never looks the same 

As I grow and change each day. 

It won’t have the same entrance

Unless I’m learning twice.

The ways I tried before were wrong

While I thought they were right.

Yet if I speak my fears out

Let them spill out from my heart

See them in the open

And then choose a place to start.

This place, I’ll start right here

On the island where I am

I choose this place because

It is the place where I now stand.

-Adjoa Skinner Webb

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I hope that you are well today. That you hold your loved ones, that you love your life and that you find all that you’ve ever wanted, was already right here, right now.

Til next week, I leave you with a song that I wrote and released years back called “River Runs Dry”, it’s been on my mind a lot lately as I go through this. In the moment I recorded it I just sat down and wrote the entire song while playing it. I never played it ever again. I’m grateful that I have this recording is from that one moment in time.

How can something so right, hurt me so well

How can I give up the fight when its too soon to tell

I give it all to you, Father, I give it all to you…

Thank you for reading all the way til the end. If you’ve enjoyed reading this please consider sharing with a friend and please hit the subscribe button.

NOW I FOUND MY VOICE is a devotional and lifestyle poetry newsletter that I write and share on a weekly basis. I am a songwriter and mother of a tiny human being that I cuddle with more than ever these days. My hope is that in sharing my journey and the journey of others in poetry and rhyme that you too will find a place that encourages you to “Find YOUR voice” and know “There’s nothing wrong with you”

-Adjoa

“Now I found my voice, and they can’t silence me

Now I found my voice, I don’t need the world to see

that I found my voice, oh now I finally am free

cause I found my voice, and there’s nothing wrong with me.” - Adjoa