MANY PREGNANCIES TERMINATE EARLY - it's not for nothing that most people announce that they will become parents by the end of the first trimester. At the same time, it is not customary to tell even relatives about a failed pregnancy and its consequences, and a woman risks being left without support and experiencing what happened in loneliness and shame.
In English, a missed (or not developing) pregnancy is called a missed miscarriage. This term explains the situation well: the embryo for some reason stops developing - however, the body does not have time to get rid of it on its own, as it happens during a miscarriage, and a woman may not experience any pain or other alarming symptoms. Maria Satleikina told us how she was diagnosed with a frozen pregnancy on an ultrasound scan and what happened next.
May, on my 25th birthday, I came to the hospital for screening of the first trimester of pregnancy and a minute later I heard the verdict: "Girl, you have an empty fetal egg." I remember asking, “How empty is that? Are you sure?" To which the uzist replied: “Well, yes. Here
you see, there is no heartbeat, it’s empty inside.” I covered my face with my hands and cried, lying on the couch with my bare stomach. I couldn't believe how this was possible, where did my baby go, whom I watched for two months, reading about his development every week since I found out that she was pregnant. Until that day, I had not done a single ultrasound, as my doctor considered it unnecessary. Later I found out that she is a deeply religious person and she discouraged many even from obligatory screenings. Her behavior was hardly dictated by malicious intent, but having done a regular ultrasound a little earlier, I would not have carried an empty fertilized egg for a whole month.
I had no symptoms of miscarriage. On the contrary, there was a rather pronounced toxicosis. However, about a week before the screening, I noticed that I had less nausea, but did not consider it a warning sign. The uzist called the chief doctor of the maternity hospital to the office so that he “calm down a sobbing patient with an undeveloped woman”. He very carefully chose his words, told me something about natural selection, a philosophical attitude to life. Now I understand that I was incredibly lucky to receive support in the first minutes after the overwhelming news. Although not all of his expressions sounded delicate, he still wanted to cheer me up.
I went headlong into my projects. All day
I didn’t think about what had just happened to me, but I sobbed every night
on my husband's shoulder
I was sent to a single box to wait for an operation to remove an empty ovum, and there, of course, I was covered. I thought maybe they were wrong and the child is alive? Meanwhile, my phone kept ringing and beeping from messages: friends and family congratulated me on my birthday. Such is the irony. I called my husband. He supported me as much as possible on the phone, but I was numb with shock and could not respond to his consolation. The operation was scheduled for the next morning, and I spent a day alone with myself, looking out the window at the gray residential area. I sobbed quietly, I sobbed loudly, asked for forgiveness from the child, begged God to return him. I hoped the doctors were wrong.
The vacuum abortion procedure went without complications. On the day of discharge, I was handed a transparent glass with my "fetal egg" so that I could independently take it for examination to find out why the fetus had stopped developing. This examination was optional and for money, but I never expected that I would have to carry the "biomaterial" to the other end of Moscow in my hands, because "the capacity is leaking." I didn't take sick leave. On Friday I had an abortion, and on Monday I went to work. Fortunately, my colleagues did not know about my pregnancy, like most friends and relatives, and I did not have to explain something to someone. I went headlong into my projects, as in all difficult periods of my life.All day I did not think about what had just happened to me, but every night I sobbed on my husband's shoulder. He was very supportive of me and in his own way experienced the loss of a child. I think back then it was more important for him to calm me down than to think about his feelings. Unfortunately, my mother did not react to the news in any way, did not ask a single question, and I myself was not able to initiate a conversation. Perhaps she did not come up with words of support and had no idea what they say in such situations. Anyway, I have no grudge against her.
About three weeks later, I came for the results of the examination, where they told me that no genetic abnormalities were found in the fetus and it was a boy. At that moment, my child suddenly became very real, it suddenly dawned on me that I had actually just experienced the death of a person. And even if he was tiny, even if everyone called him "the fetal egg", for me this is my own child. Real. And he is no more and will not be. He will never be born, I will never see his face, I will not know what kind of person he could grow up to. All these thoughts and feelings literally fell on me, pushed me into reality, made the loss tangible. The doctor strictly told me to stop crying in her office, because "you are not the first, you are not the last, and in general you are still young."
I lived my grief, accepted it as a fait accompli, to which I could not
could not influence. Although it hurt me to look at the growing belly of a friend's wife
For the next months I cried endlessly - more than in my entire previous life. I wrote letters to the unborn son. On the recommendation of a psychologist friend, I went to Hellinger's constellations in order to play the moment of parting with the baby. In a group, in front of strangers, I was able to open up and tell my story as it is, without fear of condemnation and devaluation. At home I read literature on the topic - from medical to esoteric. It was getting easier little by little. I lived my grief, accepted it as a fait accompli, which I could not influence in any way. Although it was painful for me to look at the growing belly of a husband's friend's wife, all the more our terms coincided.
The main thing that I learned from this story is that the loss of a desired early pregnancy is the same loss as the death of a loved one. That the unborn baby should be given a place in the heart, without denying that once, albeit not for long, he was alive. That you should not close in yourself and hide from everyone that trouble has happened to you. I am a little sorry that I did not share my experiences with my close friend. Then I thought that I just didn't want to burden her with problems. Now I understand that I was stupidly ashamed to admit that I could not bear the child, that I am a “defective” woman, that my son died in my stomach. This is the real reason for my silence, and I am glad that I was able to let go of these thoughts and stop blaming myself. A year later, almost on the same day, I became pregnant again and gave birth to a child - a boy. When they ask me if I have children, I answer that I have a son. But I always remember that I actually have two sons.
Cover: hippopet - stock.adobe.com