This is part III, the final part of the three part story of the miscarriage of our third baby. The story begins with part I and continues with part II.

On Tuesday, the day after we found out we lost the baby, we had to return to the doctor’s office for pre-surgery blood work and registration. I think I was mostly numb at that point, because I was able to keep my tears in check most of the time.

That evening we went to school (J. and I both teach high school; he teaches upper-level sciences and I teach business and technology). Because my surgery was scheduled for the next morning, Wednesday, we both had sub plans to make (I had to make mine for the rest of the week, but J. planned to return to work on Thursday). I was calm and collected during those couple hours working in my classroom; I’m pretty good at dealing with stress if I have tasks to complete. I methodically made my plans and left detailed notes and instructions for my sub(s).

We had to leave early Wednesday morning for the hospital. Because of the nature of my surgery, I didn’t have a set appointment time; they just fit me in where they could. We sat in the waiting room, waiting to be called back, for nearly two hours. I killed time messing around on my phone and watching The Today Show, not shedding a tear. [Read more…]

This is part two in the three part story of the loss our third pregnancy. To read the story from the beginning, here’s part I. The story concludes with part III.

The ultrasound tech came back just a few moments later with my doctor. He was so kind as he explained that the baby had died. He wanted me to call someone to come get me, but I insisted that I was okay to make the 30 minute drive home. He asked that I call the office later in the evening to discuss what we needed to do next, but I asked him to describe things to me there.

He explained that, because the pregnancy was 12 weeks along, I would have to have a D & C procedure: a surgery, performed under general anesthesia, in which the cervix is dilated and the contents of the uterus are removed. After we talked briefly, he walked me to my car.

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The first and only ultrasound photo we have of Baby Winstead #3. This was taken at my eight week appointment, where everything looked healthy and normal.

This is part I in the three part story of the miscarriage of our third baby; here is part II.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand the concept of miscarriage. How can you miss and mourn something that you’ve never held? As someone who believes that life begins at conception, it wasn’t that I didn’t believe those pregnancies were people. It was that I didn’t see how the loss of something so small could cause such huge pain.

Fast forward a decade to March of 2010. J. and I had just bought our first home, in Oregon, and he was back in Mississippi visiting family. It had occurred to me while at work that I was two weeks late. I was never late. So, after work, I stopped by the grocery store to buy a pregnancy test. I was so sure the test would be negative that I even bought tampons, too.

I went straight home and took the test. I hoped I was pregnant. J. and I had been trying for a couple of months. In those two minutes, as I paced the hallway outside the bathroom with our pony-sized black lab following anxiously behind, I dreamed. I imagined calling J. to share the news. I thought about my body growing and changing and the joy and anticipation of preparing for the baby. I pictured us as a family of three, with me falling in love with J. all over again while watching him be a dad.

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