My Skin is not Irrelevant

 Here I am, a year later.  There's so much and so little that has occurred between my last post and this very moment.  I had a Uterine Fibroid Embolization in March 2022 and attempted to conceive again in April 2022 which ended in a chemical pregnancy.  I was taking my prenatal still as well as talking CoQ10.  While actively trying to conceive, I used Conceive Plus.  Since I have switched to Geritol and taking Vitamin D as told by my new OBGYN due to a deficiency.  I've gotten a psychiatrist and been placed on antidepressants as well as anxiety medication and medicine for PTSD nightmares.  Thankfully, they are working and allowing me to continue to exist while Semaj does not anymore.

I love him so much and miss him.  I want so badly to have a pregnancy experience that ends in a living child in my arms and that child will know about their little big brother who came before so they could come behind him.  I want to use this post to pinpoint where I have been dissatisfied with my miscarriage experience.  Firstly, I went in the early morning hours to the ER for help.  They sent me to Labor & Delivery and I was seen by the resident OB.  They did an ultrasound and said he was fine and that I had fibroids and likely round ligament pain.  They did not show him to me, I had to later call and request the ultrasound images myself on a disc.  Clearly, there was something inside with him that had not been before and the mass was labeled the placenta, which was folded around the top of his head.

Doing my own research, knowing my own symptoms, and reading stories of other women, I came to the conclusion that the issue was most likely a placental abruption.  I brought this to the OB from the hospital as I had not yet found my own since I had gotten back home.  She told me, in the same sentence, that the images did not look like a placental abruption and that for an abruption like mine, nothing could be done to prevent it.  I feel certain that they saw that I had an abruption, did not show or tell me, and just waited for him to die and my inevitable reappearance.  

I have come to learn through the awful experience and the medical experiences that followed that not only are women treated poorly, but I also had the added ugliness of being black as well.  I and my black baby meant nothing to those people, besides the lovely nurses and the woman who discussed bereavement with me and Semaj's father, who was present the entire time on the phone.  I cried for Semaj, apologized to him for months, and lamented that I was his mother because I believed that he would have lived if he'd been born to someone else.  I was afraid to be a black woman and need medical help.  I've learned that I need to know everything I can ahead of time, so I can assert myself and ask pertinent questions.  No longer do I believe that doctors are there to help and care for you and do their best to see that you are well.  I don't trust most of them anymore.

I know that if I have more children, I will have to advocate for them.  I know that if my spouse is ever unwell and unable to speak for himself, I will have to knowledgeably do so for him.  Our skin is not irrelevant.  I wish it was, but it's not and I won't pretend that it's not, even in medical environments.  I had to insist on pain medication while they were manually scraping the inside of my uterus trying to get the placenta right after I gave birth.  Even when I had to get the D&C afterward, I was told that everything had been gotten out, when the medical notes done by the OB say differently.  So I was sent home with gestational tissue still in my uterus and did not find out until days later as I was passing large clots and was sent to another OB who tested a clot that was coming out.  They later called me to see if I was alive and feeling well enough, then disclosed to me that the tests came back that there was gestational tissue in the clot.  It was not "just blood clots".

I felt very dismissed and disheartened and did not want to see an OB ever again in my life.  I handpicked my new primary care provider.  A wonderful black woman who knows my story and I feel safe in her care and that any child of mine will be safe.  She referred me to an OBGYN for my pap smear.  She is a white woman, but she is always clear about what's going on and answers all my questions, and also knows my story and how upsetting it was for me.  She has encouraged me to get pregnant again as it may help with some other small issues going on.

My advice to anyone who may read this, know your doctors.  Search around for them.  Read reviews.  The reviews on the OB that I was forced to see at the hospital were horrible.  Who you see for your care and your family's care can be a matter of life or death.