First-time mothers can find many things to be anxious about when they become pregnant. What will pregnancy be like? Will my baby be healthy? Did I start taking my prenatal vitamins early enough? Am I really ready for this? But some women may have an additional fear that seems more relevant than it might to other pregnant women: Will I be able to stay pregnant, knowing that my mom had a history of miscarriage?
This anxiety was something that I had to deal with when I discovered I was pregnant with my son shortly after beginning infertility testing. After a year of trying to conceive, I had been getting rather depressed about failing each month, and the beginning of that year of trying may or may not have started with a miscarriage I was too afraid to see my doctor about. I know now that that was a bad decision, not telling my OB/GYN about the three weeks of heavy bleeding that had forced me to reschedule my initial annual exam where I’d intended to ask for a prenatal vitamin prescription, but I didn’t bring it up because I didn’t want to know for sure. My mom had suffered three miscarriages when I was a kid – the reason why there ended up being eight years between the births of my two younger brothers – and I was trying to shield myself from the emotional aftermath of knowing for sure whether it was a miscarriage or just an exceptionally heavy period. My periods were awful and unpredictable when I went off the Pill. I still have plausible deniability.
So there I was with a positive pregnancy test around Christmastime 2004, overjoyed that I was finally pregnant, but haunted by the shadow of a possible miscarriage. Some of these things are genetic. Some are due to environmental factors. Some don’t seem to have any reason whatsoever. Were those genes passed on to me?
These fears led to a tearful call to my OB/GYN just after New Year’s. I was spotting. They tried to reassure me over the phone as they set up the appointment for me to come in. Spotting can happen in a normal pregnancy. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong. But predisposed as I was to anxiety, this was no consolation. I saw the CNM I liked at my OB/GYN’s office for a pelvic exam and a urine test. The blood was brown, though, old blood, and my pregnancy test was positive. My cervix was inflamed, though, so they sent me to the local women’s hospital for an internal ultrasound because they didn’t have any ultrasound techs in the office. I was only five weeks along, so all they could see what the egg sac and yolk sac, which was good enough for them to reassure me my pregnancy was fine. Only if I started seeing red blood along with cramping should I worry and give them a call.
I didn’t have to make another call like that, but my anxiety didn’t go away.
My inflamed cervix ended up needing to be treated, and I was prescribed MetroGel for it. MetroGel is considered Category B for pregnancy risk, but I was still in my first trimester, and I was terrified that something bad would happen if I introduced this foreign substance so close to where my baby was developing at such a crucial period. I ended up waiting until the first day of my second trimester to actually use the MetroGel. That decision in itself was risky, as an untreated infection can also potentially harm a developing fetus, but it was what I considered the safest route at the time.
Thankfully, my anxiety levels decreased appreciably once I reached 24 weeks. That was the magic number in my head where I felt I could stop worrying about a miscarriage, because about 50% of babies born prematurely at that fetal age survive. And with each passing day, I knew my son’s chances of surviving and being born relatively healthy were just getting better and better.
Unfortunately, my anxiety came back with a vengeance after my son was born, alongside my undiagnosed postpartum depression. If I’d known then what I know now, 10 years later, I would have talked to my doctor. I would have tried to get help. I know I would have avoided taken any medication during my first trimester, but I might have considered some of the lowest-risk medications during my second and third trimesters according to the best available information at the time. I certainly wouldn’t have waited until my son was three before finally seeking treatment from a psychiatrist.
I know I couldn’t have stopped worrying about losing my son, but I could have had someone to talk to about it if I’d looked into therapy. But that’s why I think Postpartum Progress is so important – so people like me can encourage other women to get the support we never had.
