A New Acronym

I thought I was well versed in TTC and pregnancy lingo, but last night I added a new acronym: SCH

Subchorionic Hematoma. (Also known as: Scared the Crap out of Holli).

Also known as blood clot that hemmorhages and makes you think the worst.

Around 9 last night when I had finally sat down on the couch to relax a little, I started getting period type cramps. They were on the mild side but noticeable enough that I went to the bathroom. And what happened was the “wipe” we all dread. Fresh, red, and flowing freely. I yelled down for Rob to come up. He must have heard something in my voice became he came charging up the stairs. I barely choked out that I was bleeding and I melted, a sobbing mess, into his arms.

After a few minutes of him holding me, we decided it was best to go to the ER. It was a full house in that waiting room and I won’t even get into the nuances of my inner monologue as we sat there and waited. 

In triage I had the awful question of “Is this your first pregnancy?” (“First uterine pregnancy. I sat in this very room the day my tube ruptured last August.”). Then more waiting.

ER doc was no George Clooney or McDreamy. He inverted a bedpan under my hips to lift my pelvis and let’s just say he wasn’t very gentle on the internal. It was the first time I’ve ever had a vaginal exam while lying in Rob’s lap. The speculum looked like a light up glow in the dark noise maker. (And later at a more appropriate time, Rob commented how “cool” it looked, confirming that, yes, he is indeed male). 

After what seemed forever, I was finally being wheeled to ultrasound. The bleeding was slower but still present. The tech so so gentle and sweet. She inserted the wand and immediately asked if I had a c-section. I explained about the tube removal and she turned the monitor toward her and continued to click and click and type and click in deafening silence. Rob held my hand and once we met eyes and I could tell we were both thinking the same bad news. And finally after the longest two minutes of my life, she turned the screen toward us. She turned the screen toward us. And even on my exhausted and emotional state I knew they don’t turn the screen toward you for bad news. 

“There’s baby,” she pointed. Clear as day on the high tech machine, unlike I’ve seen in my doctor’s office. Measuring in at exactly 8 weeks (perfect), with a heart rate of 157 (perfect). I cried tears of joy and breathed for the first time in three hours. 

At the end of the night, my awesome nurse (who started my IV line on the first try!), whispered to me, “I am so so happy for you. I’m 13 weeks pregnant and the same thing happened to me when I was 6 or 7 weeks.” I wasn’t discharged until almost 3am, but I didn’t mind. This awful night ended with the best news it could have. The radiology report showed a clot about 1cm (which is small as far as clots go), and I do believe I passed it this morning. All of my bloodwork came back normal, and I have a follow up appointment at my clinic this afternoon. 

I’m exhausted and poor Rob had to go in to work today (I took a sick day), but I am happy. I have a million more things to worry about now and I’m not out of the woods (are we ever?)… but last night had a happy ending and that’s all that matters for now.