The Bumpy Road to Recovery


They say it’s not the size of the fighter that makes you the strongest but the size of the fight in that person. Well, here we were – on the road to recovery after leaving the hospital on that sad Tuesday. I have always been a ‘wonderer’ or questioned almost everything. I wondered what hospital personnel did with the fetus, I wondered how physician’s felt when they had to perform these procedures and I wondered (although I’ve always been too afraid to look) what these little lives look like. I mean, I know they’re no bigger than a pinky but still it once had life.


So, the week proceeds and we slowly are getting back to ourselves because I was raised in a Christian household and knew that death was not only appointed to those of a certain age group. Although I was still hurt and disappointed, I understood that life went on; the clock and days kept on ticking. A group of ladies that I sing with was scheduled to sing at a program that Sunday afternoon and I was ready for some much-needed love and encouragement that was sure to fill the room. Unbeknownst to me, something else was stirring in my body. That Saturday I started to feel shortness of breath but put it aside as I had felt this shortness of breath while walking at the park when I was pregnant. I chalked it up and said well the baby is gone so what’s going on? I told my husband about it because I believe that those around me should know what’s going on in case something happens and they’re able to tell the paramedics or whomever what my complaint was prior. Anyway, I told my husband if I didn’t feel any better, I would go to the emergency room the following day, Sunday. I woke up Sunday morning, feeling good; dressed in my Sunday best as I love to do and noticed the same shortness of breath as I was walking into church.


After church my husband asked if I wanted to go to the emergency room which I

told him I wanted to fulfill my obligation of singing that day and would go afterwards.

Why do we (I, me, she, her) always feel we are in TOTAL control? We stopped for gas and I called my sister who also sings and leads the group and told her I wouldn’t make it and probably needed to go to the emergency room, although I wanted to come. When my husband got back in the vehicle, I told him the same thing.For me - there’s always a time and place for everything including your outfit. So, we went home first to change out of my Sunday’s best and then proceeded to the hospital (yes, I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t feel like stripping of pantyhose, shapewear, etc. at the hospital). When we arrived, I explained my symptoms and because of my medical history was quickly called to the back. Here we are with our routine – IV, blood work, get out of your clothes BLAH – but I knew and listened to my body, so I needed whatever to be done by the professionals to see what was going on. Then off to get a CT, or CAT scan done on my body. Wheeled back to my ER room and before I knew it, my mom was sitting in the room with my husband.


As we talked and waited, the doctor came in and told me I had blood clots all over my lungs. Wow! Another pulmonary embolism. The doctor explained that there were so many clots in my lungs that I would be admitted to the hospital immediately and would be staying in the emergency room until a room was located for me. I asked the dreaded question but remember I am a ‘wonderer’- “Doctor, do you think this is what caused my miscarriage?” Without hesitation, her face saddened, and she said “unfortunately, yes I believe so. The blood flow to the baby was possibly blocked.” *insert flowing of tears* She touched my shoulder and told me to wait for my room and that everything will be alright. When she left my room, all I could do was cry even more but when I saw the saddened face of my mom’s I knew I had to get it together because I never want to be the damper of the party. The happy side was – at least I knew what possibly caused my miscarriage AND I listened to my body even more four days later.


The hospital stay was about four days and while I had to be pretty dormant, all I wanted to do was get some good food and take a nice bath. At this time I was assigned a hematologist who informed me along with the high risk doctor when I spoke with him at my next office visit, that I would have to go back on blood thinners and in the event we would try to get pregnant again I would need to take daily injections for the entire pregnancy. I was okay with it as I was willing to do anything for our Baby Christian to get here. The cherry on top that was conveyed to me was that we would need to wait six months to try again, BUMMER!!! We wanted to try again immediately because hey, time was not on a girl’s side but I’m a believer in following doctor’s orders so that’s what we did, or so we planned.


Day 4 after another CT scan, I was going home to hopefully fully recover; think about the past two weeks, cry a little more and be in deep communication with God because I wasn’t sure who else could give me answers at that time.


But I was Hopeful.