I miscarried in Hawaii

This pregnancy was different from the others. I hardly felt I was pregnant, except for the frequent bathroom trips. My mind was hazy, and I sort of liked it. Being high-strung and sensitive wasn’t very desirable and could lead to insomnia. I named her Sophie. Victor said it was two Sophia girls and told me how much he loved them. Oliver rejoiced at the prospect of becoming a big brother.

On 5/24 I woke up early. I tried to get ready for the trip, but I had a bad headache and felt ill. In late morning I felt I was going to collapse. I had to lie down for a nap. The bleeding continued, but I never thought I could lose the baby. I even carried Victor up the stairs into the house. In the evening I felt disoriented and confused. I had trouble having coherent thoughts. That went on for a few hours, and around 10pm Qin said I should rest: it’s okay if we cancel the Hawaii trip, it’s not the end of the world. That assurance lifted a thousand tons of weight from my shoulders. I was deeply grateful that he put my health first.

5/25 When the plane landed in Honolulu, I started to feel cramping, like what I got before giving birth. Then I felt a lot of pressure in my pelvis. I was frightened and felt helpless. I told Qin I was miscarrying. He looked a little upset but didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even ask me to sit down, etc. I carried the bags, got the luggage, then went to look for grandparents and Oliver, all the while I was in active labor. They spent a lot of time looking for Oliver’s car seat. My legs were numb. They asked me to do things but I couldn’t understand their words. Poor me, having labor while they treated me like the regular mommy.

We went for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. I hurried to the bathroom. There on the pad was a piece of blood clot, and a wad of tissue the size of a half egg. It was an organism, complete in itself. It was all the hard work my body had done in the last two months, and now it was on the pad. I thought of keeping it but didn’t, so I left it in the bathroom, my Sophie. I came out and told Qin that I had miscarried. He looked at once frightened and disgusted. Parents-in-law were silent for a little while, then carried on cheerfully because we were in Hawaii, sat in a Chinese restaurant, and ate Dim Sum. Of all the places you could miscarry, Hawaii was probably one of the nicest and also the least likely place for you to brood and reflect.

Qin took me to the Urgent Care unit at Kaiser Honolulu Clinic. A Hawaiian nurse gave me warm blankets. The doctor was a blond lady about 40 years old. She said most early miscarriages were caused by genetic problems and couldn’t be prevented. She had had a miscarriage between her first and second child, at 11 weeks. In the end she told me my pregnancy hormone was at 300, while at 9.5 weeks it should’ve been around 15,000. Something had not gone right for a while, and it wasn’t because something I did. It meant so much to me under the circumstances. In hind sight I could’ve blamed it on so many things: I didn’t take care of myself (didn’t take the lunch breaks, didn’t rest, didn’t eat enough); I felt terrible on Saturday but I didn’t rest, instead I planned, packed, and worried about every details of the trip; that night I didn’t go to the hospital and next day I went on the airplane; I carried Victor, heavy bags, and later fell down; I didn’t restrain my activities and walked long distance, etc. etc. The doctor told me it was normal to grieve, feeling sad, spacey, confused, and disbelieving.

We returned to the hotel. I felt empty and sad. I told Victor that Sophie got sick and died, and she came out of Mommy. Victor looked frightened and repeated after me, “Sophie got sick and died. How did she come out of you, Mommy?” “I want Sophie. I miss her.” Oliver asked me to have a baby, so he could become a big brother. That night was hard. I held Victor in my arms, so I could feel some comfort. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was away from my children. Their presence comforted me, and they never appeared so precious, beautiful, and loving.

On 5/26 we went to the Pearl Harbor. I sat on the stone bench while they waited in the long line that turned several corners. I overheard many tourists talking about the Pearl Harbor: some Americans, some Japanese, some Chinese, some from Hong Kong. Victor and Oliver chased the birds in the lawn. They were adorable and made people smile. Finally we went inside. The movie was sad and heroic. The loud exploding sound made Victor jump. I told them after the show that 1177 sailors were buried under the USS Arizona Memorial so they must be quiet. The pilgrimage to the Arizona was solemn. I thought how fitting it was the day after Sophie had died. Qin threw a flower to the sunken hulk of the Arizona. I saw a boy about 13-15 years old. He stared at the sunken hulk, lost in thought. People walked slowly beside him, but he remained immobile. Was he trying to imagine the 1177 young sailors perished within 8 minutes? It was too much for me. It was unbearable to look at the names on the wall. Life was so fragile, so short, and so futile. The memorial was a heartbreaking place, yet so heroic, pure, and noble. It was probably the only righteous war (besides the brutal Civil War) that the U.S. has fought. It reminded us how war could be necessary under trying circumstances.

Since then I’ve tried to be kind to myself. I rested, took time off writing, and even started a Chinese blog http://blog.sina.com.cn/yangwrites. There I had less freedom but more responses. I chatted with a few girlfriends and learned that miscarriages are much more common than I realized. I can’t say that I put it behind me, but I’m ready to move on, slowly and surely, one day at a time.