Miscarriage

The doctor pressed the end of the ultrasound against my wife’s stomach and looked for the small creature that was to be our second child. The buddy, playmate to Matthew. The younger brother that would learn the lessons and joys of life from his older brother Matthew. The baby that would make the pair of children we wanted. We had already suffered through two miscarriages and my wife was afraid to have this ultrasound. As though being so arrogant as to have an ultrasound and peak in on the development of a child could hex it.

For several minutes I watched the gray, grainy screen as the doctor swept the ultrasound back and forth and pushed down harder on the belly. My wife reached out her hand and grabbed mine. Fear was rising in the room. I strained my eyes to see that “peanut” of an embryo on the screen. But we couldn’t see anything. I don’t know if that was good or bad, because at least this way we could pretend there was hope.

The doctor switched to the vaginal ultasound probe and again searched for our unborn child. On the screen I could see the baby this time. My heart lifted a bit as I identified the head and body. But the heartbeat we were looking for was not seen. I realized I was holding my breath and I was squeezing my wife’s hand. How was she going to deal with this? I knew not well, but more importantly, how was I going to deal with this to help her?

The doctor said matter-of-factly, “it doesn’t appear to be a viable pregnancy.” I was angry with him for that phrase. A viable pregnancy? Why not just say that it was a miscarriage or that the embryo had aborted. But I guess at his age he had seen enough of these that emotion did not play a role. Maybe it was his way of getting through the day.

He went on to discuss that the heartbeat wasn’t visible and the little computer measurements said the embryo was only 7.5 weeks old when it should have been 10 weeks. He was cold and calculating about his discussion with not a hint of emotion in his voice. My wife was crying now, but he continued on. He told my wife to get blood hormone tests and have a second ultrasound. But I think we all knew that this was just to appease my wife and that the results would not change. They ultimately did not change.

We, I say we, lost the baby. It was probably a missed program cycle in the development of the embryo, but I know that doesn’t make my wife feel better. It was nothing she or I had done wrong, it was what was supposed to happen. So in a few months we can try again, but in the meantime, we need to get over the fact that our child died before Matthew had a chance to play with him.