Relationship admin  

My Misdiagnosed Miscarriage

It was April 24, 2015, my 26th birthday! I’m a big celebrant, so in our house we celebrate everything from half birthdays to half anniversaries, to ordinary, random days that I think are worth celebrating! However, my 26th birthday was extra special this year, because I had a sweet peanut growing in my belly, and I was about to see that little miracle for the first time at my 8 week OB appointment.

I got to the Women’s Health Clinic more than an hour early because waiting at home was too painful as I watched my clock tick by every second. The lobby was packed with pregnant women of all stages. Some looked so happy, they just couldn’t stop smiling and rubbing their bellies to feel that moving miracle growing inside of them, and some looked miserable for being behind, ready to burst. I chose a chair and sat down with my 14-month-old son, still hoping that maybe my doctor could see me a few minutes earlier. Ava and I played pat-a-cake, watched a few episodes of Barney, and ate a lot of snacks. I remember looking at her and thinking, You’re about to be a big sister! You two will be the best of friends. My heart was so full.

“Mrs. Bishop” the nurse finally called. Ava and I quickly jumped out of our chairs and headed back. When we entered the room, the nurse put me on the scale, then checked my vitals and asked me some standard questions about how I was feeling. “I feel good! It’s my birthday and I can see my baby for the first time! I have some morning sickness/that lasts all day, but this is nothing new for me in pregnancy.”

I sat on the exam table and relaxed as I watched the nurse prepare and sterilize the equipment my doctor would use for the ultrasound. I began to wonder what if there are two babies? How will I react? I have to stay calm. I can handle two. Though it’s probably just one. It’s definitely just one.

“Hello lady bishop!” my doctor said as he opened the door, “Nice to meet you. Today we will see your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.” My baby’s heartbeat. What a beautiful sight. “Just sit back and relax and let’s take a look.” She placed the probe and we both looked at the screen. She started fidgeting the probe all over the place, and my heart sank before she even spoke a word.

Bishop, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but there’s no heartbeat. She’s had a miscarriage and what we’re looking at here is just the tissue that’s left behind.

My heart stopped and my head started to spin, then I started sobbing, like any mother would. She was crying so much that the nurse had to put Ava back in her stroller. How did this happen? What did I do wrong? This was my fault. My precious baby was gone.

“PLEASE CHECK AGAIN! PLEASE LOOK ONE MORE TIME! PLEASE JUST LOOK!” I screamed, begging for a different outcome.

“Mrs. Bishop, your baby is gone. Please get dressed and follow the nurse to my office so we can schedule your D&C.” Dilation and curettage (D&C) is a surgical procedure in which the cervix is ​​dilated and a special instrument is used to scrape the lining of the uterus. The main goal of treatment during or after a miscarriage is to prevent bleeding and/or infection of the remaining tissue.

I stumbled into his office and honestly I don’t even remember how I made it out of the exam room. The doctor dialed my husband’s number and handed me his office phone number. “Trey, I miscarried and I need you here now. Right now.”

“Okay, looks like we have an opening for your operation on Monday April 27th. I’ll schedule it for 8am, but I’m sure you’ll be here 45 minutes early for paperwork.”

The only words that came out of my mouth in his office were “Is there any way my baby could still be alive? Is it possible? Has it ever happened before?”

“No, Mrs. Bishop. It’s never happened before. I’m 99.9% sure your baby is gone.”

My husband helped me to my car and I followed him home with the most painful and heartbreaking emptiness inside of me. I had no idea the anguish one would feel from a miscarriage so early in the pregnancy.

When I parked in the driveway, I called my mom and sobbed, letting it all out. If you know my mom, you know what an amazing woman she is, so she immediately jumped in her car and picked up my sweet Rickey B (my stepdad) and they drove to our house in Killeen from Houston (a 3 hour drive). For the rest of the day, this little voice inside me kept asking: Why am I not showing signs of miscarriage? Why do I keep feeling sick?

My husband, who had missed the actual ultrasound due to meetings at work, wanted some closure upon seeing for himself that the baby was gone, so he made sure we got a second opinion before doing any procedures. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but radiology is always booked at least 3 months in advance at the hospital we’re assigned to, and I know that ultrasounds are rarely scheduled on Saturdays for outpatients, only those in the ER who experience life-threatening emergencies, but it turned out that there was a technician who worked from Friday night to Saturday morning with an appointment canceled at 5:45 AM.

We were checked in with radiology at 5:15am and taken back to the room. The ultrasound technician was very grumpy, probably because he was so early and worked all night. He told me to stay put so he could confirm the miscarriage. How dare you be so confident in my miscarriage even before I had the ultrasound? He grabbed the tube and placed it in my stomach. “Holy cow! Go drink a lot of water, wait 10 minutes and come back,” he yelled. “I can’t tell you anything other than go drink water and come back.”

Listen. I drank so much water that I almost threw up. Once 10 minutes had passed, I was back in the room and pulled up my shirt so he could do the ultrasound.

“Congratulations, mom! 160 beats per minute!”

My baby was ALIVE. Praise the Lord! My baby was ALIVE! I watched the little heart of this miracle beat, beat, and beat and sobbed tears of joy with each beat. The technician took all the measurements my doctor was supposed to take at the appointment the day before, and the baby measured perfectly. Everything was normal and I was well on track for my 8 week embryo.

I now have a happy and healthy 13 month old boy who is simply the sweetest boy in the world. He is on the right track, development-wise. How did this happen?

I think my baby was always alive. To this day, I don’t know why we didn’t see a heartbeat on that first date. Maybe my doctor just made a mistake and it was a misdiagnosed miscarriage. Or maybe her little heart didn’t beat until after that date, just a late development in the heartbeat department. But I tell this story to explain that no doctor on the planet is right 100% of the time, or 99.9%, so when your mommy intuition tells you otherwise, you should listen to it. It is sad to think of how many women the same thing could have happened to them.

Leave A Comment