July 1st 2007 just might very well go down as the worst day of my life. It was a long weekend, and the weekend had gotten off to a rather crappy start. That Friday, my wife Christine - who was pregnant for less than a month - told me that she had spotted some blood in her urine after going to the washroom.
Like most normal men, I got worried.
Like most normal husbands, I put on a brave face.
Like most guys who live and work on the Web, I searched a bunch of sites to see if this was normal or a cause to worry.
Online, you’ll find anything you want to find, and anything you want to avoid. So my wife went to the clinic that Friday afternoon, described the situation and the clinic told her some blood was nothing to be alarmed with.
Of course, that evening, all of that changed. The bleeding grew, and with it came a world wind of back pain. That, my friends, was what confirmed my worst nightmare: my wife had suffered a miscarriage. She had really not done anything out of the ordinary. I know, because my mother had a miscarriage after my elder brother and myself, after moving some furniture (no, she was not a mover, she was cleaning the apartment).
Overnight, the pain and it was the most painful thing to watch: my wife was losing her first child, was wringing in pain, and there was nothing I could do. By 4am we simply headed off to the hospital. Once there, it was clear that this was not “a bit of blood” but rather a loss of life.
“My condolences for your loss,” said the Doctor some time later. That’s when it hit me; but by the same token, by then, all that mattered was my wife’s health.
The stats are pretty eye-opening: roughly 1 out of 4 (some sources say 1 out 3, others 1 out of 5 - do the math) first time pregnancies end in miscarriage. For women above 40, that numbers shoot up. Ultimately, the human body is a tremendously flexible and adaptive thing and if a fetus does not want to become a baby, your body will tell you.
My wife and I came out of it much stronger. We had only told our parents, and their disappointment and sorrow was almost worst than the miscarriage itself. We were told that it would be best to wait a couple of months before trying to conceive again… so we did… but before we knew, my wife was late again…
This time around we wanted to avoid telling anyone until she was pregnant 3 months. But, in early October, my grandmother passed away. The next day when I was trying to console my mom, I thought it would be a good time to tell her the good news, so we did.
A few weeks later, we met with the doctor again, and even saw the little jelly bean flip and flop in Christine’s belly. It was the best day of my life.
I’m not quite sure why I’m writing all of this, but this past Friday Christine took a day off. She had been feeling a bit sick and tired. Then in the afternoon her mom called me to say she had spotted a teeny and tiny bit of blood. My heart sank.
This time around, it was a false alarm. Everything was a-ok. The baby’s heart beat was rocking to the rhythm and bopping to the beat of the radio, the next day we did a ultrasound saw the jelly bean once again. It was the best day of my life…
The little jelly bean is due May 31/June 1 2008. I can’t freaking wait.
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