When I found out I was pregnant last spring, my best friend, Jessie, was one of the first people to find out. A few weeks later, she called me with some news of her own; she, too, was pregnant. She was a week and a day behind me. We were so excited; we were going to have babies together!
But Jessie was in a completely different situation than I was. She had a Mirena IUD in place, which had been there for almost five years. She had some tough decisions to make. She decided right away that she wanted to keep the baby. A happily married mother of two, she wasn’t expecting to have anymore children, but once she knew that there was a baby growing inside her, there was no question in her mind.
But there was a problem. Jessie was bleeding. A lot. Bright red, fresh blood. After weeks of research, multiple trips to her OB/GYN, and three or four ultrasounds, she was faced with a difficult decision. She had to decide if she wanted to leave the IUD in or have the doctor attempt to take it out. Both options were high risk, so it was like choosing between bad and worse.
On one hand, she could leave the IUD in, but it created a high risk of a late term miscarriage or still born death, most likely around month six or seven of the pregnancy. There was also the fact that the IUD was causing her uterus to form blood clots (hence the bleeding), which could interfere with the baby’s development. The device could also puncture her uterus, which would become more of a risk as her belly grew.
Her other option was to have the IUD removed. They would do the procedure while watching on an ultrasound, and as long as they could reach the string, it wouldn’t create too many problems. The risk with this procedure was, again, miscarriage, but it would happen within a week of the procedure. Most likely, it would occur during the procedure, and they would know before they left the hospital.
Jessie and her husband decided to go with removal of the IUD. Although she desperately wanted to have the baby, her risks were high either way. They decided if they were going to lose the baby, it would be easier on the whole family for it to happen at the beginning of the pregnancy compared to late term. The procedure went well and the doctors were impressed with the situation. The bleeding stopped right away and there was no more cramping or pain. Jessie had thought she and the baby were safe and in the clear.
Then she went in for a follow up a week later. When they did the ultrasound, there was no heartbeat. She was devastated. She had to have a DNC and spent quite a bit of time in bed. Her family was supportive, but Jessie didn’t really talk about it. Not even to me.
As a matter of fact, she was talking to me less and less. I tried to be very aware of the situation; she had just lost her baby, and mine was still growing safely in my stomach. I tried not to talk about it much, but Jessie still withdrew. We went from talking to each other three or four times a week, to three or four times a month, to once a month. We still loved each other, and we talked about the reminder that my pregnancy created for her, and I understood all that. I wasn’t angry with her, but it hurt that I couldn’t be there for her. She was mourning, and I couldn’t be there as a shoulder to cry on.
She attempted to tough it out. Tried to be the brave girl. She still trying. When Johnny was born, she came straight to the hospital after work. She holds him and loves him. She will be his God Mother. But I don’t know if she’s actually come to terms with what happened to her. I think her heart is still broken. It probably always will be.
We all deal with death and loss in our own way. Some people need to talk about it and emotionally purge. Others turn inwards and deal with it in the privacy of their minds. Jessie wasn’t able to open up and the one person that she normally turned to was a constant reminder of her loss. It breaks my heart that in her biggest time of need, I wasn’t there to help her.