Finding the Miracle in Pregnancy Loss

It had been a long, stressful month. My son’s condition had changed from chronic to acute. That meant that they wanted us to do surgery and they wanted it done now. Either way it would be life-changing. If we went ahead with the surgery, they would be implanting something foreign in his body. If we didn’t do anything about the situation, we were facing the possibility of severe life-threatening symptoms. There were no good choices. Clearly, the one choice we needed was option C. A miracle.

I headed to the Rebbe’s Ohel to pour out my heart. I was so so tired. The stress, the worry the fear. And the pregnancy on top of it all, draining every ounce of strength I had left. On the drive, I was imagining his imaginary doctor as I tried explaining that we would need to plan any potential surgeries around my baby’s due date. I imagined the doctor giving me stares and muttering about those Jews that are pregnant when they have a child with a chronic health condition. I imagined my response back to the doctor telling him about my friends who struggled with secondary infertility and asking if it was worse to be tired because I was pregnant or worse to be sad and not want to get out of bed because I wasn’t pregnant?

I finally got to the Ohel. I found a spot and wrote about the medical situation and the pregnancy. I shared about the Peulos we had done and then I begged for a Bracha for miracles that would be Limaaleh Mitaam Vadaas. The medical world had no good answers for my son’s condition and I was asking for a miracle that defied logic. I left with lighter shoulders, knowing that my problems were in good hands.

I was having a houseful of guests sleeping over for Shabbos and the next day after the Ohel, I came back from a major shopping trip excited to start cooking. Like a good pregnant woman, the first thing I did when I got home was run to the bathroom. My heart sank when I saw blood. I knew what this meant. I had miscarried before. I would soon start heavy bleeding and soon it would all be over. I had already been nervous because I was four months pregnant and I had gained only one pound instead of my usual 15. But this all but confirmed it for me. What had happened to my miracles, I wondered?

I didn’t have time to worry too much because soon my kids would be home from school and would need supper NOW. I ran back to my kitchen, frying schnitzel and feeling all sorry for myself that I was having a miscarriage and here I was making supper like nothing is going on. I felt even more sorry for myself when my on-call OB kindly informed me that I was definitely not an emergency and don’t bother coming to the ER until closer to midnight when things may possibly calm down (my out-of-town mother-in-law was horrified). Eventually, my husband got home and I excused myself from the supper table. It wasn’t long before I began to feel lonely. If I was going to lose this baby, at least I should make time for the kids I already have?

Bedtime was a lot more real. Over the month, I’d been too distracted and stressed to be really focused, but with this loss seeming to be so imminent, all I wanted was to snuggle my kids. What was I really so busy with all the time? What could be so much more important then just being their Mommy?

By midnight, I realized that I hadn’t miscarried after all and the bleeding had stopped. Perhaps this would be my miracle? I Ubered myself over to the ER, full of hope and optimism and of course with a bag full of food.

{Life hack- here is my emergency room packing list. Siddur with Tehillim, Charger, Neshek, and enough food to feed an army. Plus, a package of chocolates to hand out to people you want to thank.}

The frum nurse at triage asked me what brought me in. I told her I was in my fourth month and spotting. I told her that I had thought I was having a miscarriage but clearly Hashem had said,” Not so Fast!” She wasn’t having any of that, though as she assigned me to the room which I later found out was for women with “heavy bleeding”.

The Resident came in to check me out. She was agonizingly slow. Could she just do the sono already? I waited with bated breath till she showed me. Nope there was no baby in the uterus. But she did find something in the Fallopian tube. OK. It was an ectopic pregnancy. I breathed in and out. OK. It happens.

But one second. I was in my fourth month of pregnancy. Ectopic pregnancies don’t last four months. They last six-eight weeks max. I had even had a six-week checkup and everything seemed fine. What was going on???

The Resident paged the Attending Doctor. They were due to time out in three minutes. It was a race against time. Would she see me before I had to wait two hours for the next doctor? Kindly, the Doctor went overtime and redid the sonogram. She told me there seemed to be something in the fallopian tube and some leftover something in the Uterus. She honestly wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but there was for sure no viable baby and the high-risk specialist would be by in a few hours and check me out.

Well, this was getting interesting I thought. At least, if I’m going to have a miscarriage, I might as well get a story out of it, I joked.

As I had plenty of time, I decided to make the most of it. When did I have the luxury of sitting by myself for a few hours with no pressure? I had time for a nap. I had time to daven. I had time to chat about Shabbos recipes with the Bikur Cholim Volunteer Doula. This was her first miscarriage (she didn’t know what ectopic meant) and she was finding it a bit heavy. Luckily, we were able to delve into the philosophies of life a little. Hashem is always good and does what’s best for use even if we don’t understand. Baruch Hashem, I have other kids at home. Clearly, this wasn’t the right time for our family.

The Asian nurse working in the room commented that I had comforted her.

“You know,” she told me, “these things are hard for us too. Thank you for being so dignified.”

Hmm. I hadn’t considered how the nurses felt. I almost didn't know that NYC nurses had feelings. I was happy she felt seen.

The Maternal-Fetal Specialist finally showed up and informed me that she was going to do an internal check. By hashgacha pratis, I had recently read a book on the Rebbe’s approach to pregnancy, about how the Rebbe was adamantly against internal checks. Clearly, in this case, it was medically indicated and there wasn’t a viable baby anyways, but my inner guard went way up.

After poking and prodding around, she tried to gaslight me that my pregnancy date was wrong (sorry, maam I go to mikvah, not really much room for error there.) and then finally said, well it looks like there’s an ectopic pregnancy in your fallopian tubes that just froze in time at six weeks. Her words not mine. Frozen in time.

Hmm… this was DEFINITELY getting interesting.

They would order the drugs I needed in order to clear out the ectopic pregnancy. More waiting time was in order.

Not nearly twenty minutes had passed after they were gone when I began having massive bleeding with blood clots the size of my palm. I panicked and screamed for help as the nurses and resident rushed in and began yelling about surgery. The nurses could not change the chucks fast enough for the blood that was quickly pooling. The Rebbe, of course, knew exactly all about internal checks during pregnancy.

The new Doctor on the shift ran in. I could not believe the look on his face.

He was stumped.

Stumped.

He had no idea what was going on.

Doctor, I yelled. I just spent the last hour googling ectopic pregnancy. Theres no way this is an ectopic pregnancy right. Ectopic pregnancies can’t get out by themselves?

 He just stood there and shook his head. No, this was not ectopic.

What was going on?

It was fairly obvious to me.

Doctor, couldn’t it have been twins? One ectopic, one regular miscarriage?

When I had brought it up before, the Maternal Fetal Specialist had laughed it off as impossible. But now, it was a consideration.

They told me it was called “Heterotopic Pregnancy” and my OB had seen it twice in 30 years.

He told me the chances are one-in- 30,000. To put that in perspective, Maimonides Hospital delivers the most amount of babies in the US per year, at around 4,000 births.

I told him I’m a one in a million kind of person and I should have bought a lottery ticket!

He laughed.

Looking up the statistics online, I saw that I was truly one in a million. The risks of maternal complications are super high, much higher than many other complications. The risks of me having a hemorrhage at home. Of the ectopic pregnancy rupturing. How on earth had it just “frozen in time” for months?

After confirming that there was nothing left in my uterus, the doctor gave me the drugs for the ectopic pregnancy and then discharged me with no further complications, Baruch Hashem. How had that happened?

And then I had my answer.

It was truly a miracle.

A Miracle Limaalah Mitaam Vidaas.

Just like I had asked for.

I thought I was carrying a baby.

I wasn’t carrying a baby. I wasn’t even carrying twins.

I was carrying a miracle.  

Thank you, Hashem.

For the miracles.

For giving life.

At the right time

For the right amount of time

Thank you, Hashem.