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.

My India Trip 2006 (I)

Nov. 18, 2006. I barely made the flight, as usual. I sat beside a friendly Indian man, an Aries/Pisces family man (who called himself a sentimental fool) in love with his Sagittarius wife. After the 14-hour flight, my legs felt broken. It was hot when I arrived at the Delhi Airport. Outside the gate, many dozens name plaques were held by taxi drivers expecting their clients. I tried to read the names, when a man called me and winked. He didn’t have my name. Then I saw Qin wearing a white tee shirt. An Indian man in black uniform took over my cart. I asked Qin if he knew the man. He said yes, the man was the taxi driver. We went to the car and put my luggage inside. He drove a small Honda. Qin said it was equivalent to Civic. The driver spoke softly in fluent English. We left the airport. He ran a red light and I was flabbergasted. I was surprised by the dirt and squalor on the streets. The gorgeous pictures in my tour book gave me an illusion that India was a garden country. Silly me thought we would soon get on the highway and leave the slums behind. Cows wandered the streets, stray dogs and homeless people lived in dirt, men peed on the streets. Qin said a TV program criticized people who urinated on the streets. India was much poorer than the coastal China that I knew.

Marriott Hotel was incredibly luxurious compared to the squalor on the streets. I was abhorred. The breakfast buffet was a delicious feast, which I appreciated after the bad food on the plane.

We went sightseeing in Delhi. First we stopped by his office and met his colleagues (the service department). They were crammed in an apartment without AC. The work condition was hard, but the young men seemed optimistic. Delhi was full of gangly, bustling young men, while fewer women walked the streets. I looked out of the car window. A young man sat in an auto rickshaw rode away. He was slim, leggy and beautifully clean-cut. While our car waited at a red light, a handicapped boy thumped our window with his deformed arm. I froze, frightened out of my wits. Only after our car passed did I steal a glance at him. How this poor creature managed to grow up I didn’t know.

We saw the Indian Gate, Government Buildings, etc. All the fountains were dry, and people walked on the pool floor. Dust was everywhere. Women dug holes on the scraggly lawn in front of the Indian Gate. Teenage boys had their step training there. Chinese President Hu was visiting so parts of the city were closed. The driver took us shopping (The Silk Palace) and I bought two Indian suits under coercion: a sandy top for 1100 rupees, a blue and red woven suit for 2000 rupees, and a tan pashmina scarf for 500 rupees. They served us tea and the shopgirl kept saying how nice “Madam” looked. The driver told me to get sari but I wouldn’t bare my belly. Finally we went to see Qutb Minar (part of the Mehrauli Archaeological Park). The buildings/tower were majestic, and so was the landscaping. Such a waste it was built for dead people, worship, etc.

He took us to a nice place for lunch. Afterwards he showed us his office site and gave me a dozen flowers (mostly gladiolus and lilies). They were wilting but they were lovely. He also invited us to visit his house. I didn’t know if he was serious. The nicest area in Delhi seemed to be the Embassy Avenue. The lawn was well kept. Whenever our car stopped, beggars pounded our windows. Sometimes women held their children. Our driver ignored them, while I was nervous.

I bought a wooden elephant from the store downstairs. The water in the swimming pool was too cold, so the pool was mostly for show. We went outside after dark to a local mall/market, where I bought a cotton suit for 650 rupees. I was so tired I was barely able to make it back.