Chapter 2: The cross-country PCS (Read Chapter 1 here)
Before we knew it, we were about six weeks pregnant and PCSing across the country. I had planned an epic road trip with stops at National Parks and iconic Route 66 landmarks. Things were going to be a little crammed because we had recently sold my car that had broken down rather than pay to fix it. Buying a new car and paying for fertility treatments didn’t seem fiscally responsible; we needed to save every penny. Ok, back to the epic road trip. First up was Petrified Forest National Park.
As we were driving through the park I remember starting to feel cramps, but brushed it off. I had done so much reading about what to expect over the years that I knew cramping and spotting/light bleeding were common in early pregnancy. So I pushed on, tried not to worry, and enjoyed the park because we love exploring. One of the parts of that stop that I remember the most was walking through the visitors center and seeing another family with a baby, and for the first time that sight didn’t sting. I was overcome with joy that we would finally experience being parents by the end of the year.
That night we ended our first day of driving in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Later that night the cramping worsened and I started experiencing heavy bleeding. We had been released from our fertility clinic plus it was after hours so we decided to call the TRICARE nurses’ line to see what we should do. I was pretty sure the answer was to go to the ER, but we were also in the middle of a PCS unsure of our status with TRICARE coverages and where we could go. They recommended a trip to the hospital and off we went.
Honestly, most of that night is a blur, but I do vividly remember parts of it that I wish I could forget. I remember feeling like it took years to get back and be seen, but that’s pretty standard for an ER trip, I think. Once I was taken back and then wheeled off for an ultrasound I felt relieved that I would soon get to see the monitor and know once and for all what was happening. Except that’s not how it happened.
The ultrasound room was larger than I expected and the procedure was different than I had experienced before. I remember the male tech had me insert the ultrasound wand, which was odd. Never in the 50,000 vaginal ultrasounds I’ve had done during the IUI process did I have to insert the wand myself. Ok, 50,000 is a little exaggerated, but in all seriousness, I’ve had a lot of ultrasounds over the years. I also wasn’t allowed to see the monitor. Instead, it was total silence, except for the clicking and tapping of the keys on the keyboard. When he was done, I was whisked back to my room to wait for the doctor. But I already knew. The silence was the giveaway: we had lost the baby and were having a miscarriage.
Sure enough, the doctor came in explained what was happening, prescribed some medications to help, and instructed us to be seen for follow-up by our OB the next day. With tears running down my face I explained our situation, and he said it should be fine to wait until we got to Chicago. However, he emphasized the need to be seen ASAP for follow-up. They sent our medications to a 24-hour pharmacy around the corner, and off we went to pick them up and get some sleep. Well, let’s just say it felt like we waited for the pharmacist to drive into work, eat their lunch, and then finally process our order. It took way longer than needed to get my prescriptions, especially when all I wanted to do was lay in bed and cry myself to sleep. We finally got back to the hotel around 3 am, and I remember stopping by the front desk and my husband asking if we could have a late checkout; we were just returning from the ER. The best they could do was noon, which didn’t seem like a lot.
I couldn’t believe that we had to keep driving. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. I was crushed, angry, sad, and wanted to cry. I also wanted a heating pad. The last thing I wanted to do was get up in the morning load the car back up, and continue on our drive. I no longer cared about the epic road trip. Why couldn’t we just have a day or two so I could stay in bed? But on we went. It was uncomfortable, I was worried about how heavy the bleeding was, about leaking and bleeding everywhere. The cramps were also incredibly painful making the trip in the crammed car downright miserable.
Since we got a very late start on our second day of the drive we skipped several of our planned stops, and I wasn’t in an adventurous mood. We did stop at the MidPoint of Route 66 to take some pictures. Since I planned this amazing road trip I felt like we had to at least do some of it. I also couldn’t spend the whole time sulking in the car. Plus I was so excited about stopping on Route 66. Looking back, I’m glad we still did some of the things, even if I’ve only looked at the photos a few times, and most of those memories are tainted with sorrow.
Day three of the PCS was a blur, and on day four we stopped in St. Louis. I lost it at the top of the Arch seeing all the families and babies enjoying their family vacations. For a brief moment, we had that; the dream felt like it was finally coming true and it was gone in an instant. It didn’t seem fair. I didn’t want to be around people, I wanted the comfort of home, but all I had was a cramped car, and a different dismal hotel room every night. Not only was this not how I envisioned our PCS, but this was also the most awkward way to grieve.
Two days later we were finally at our new duty station, all squared away with TRICARE, and we could start the process of finding follow-up care. I was still bleeding a lot, and still experiencing bad cramps. I was beginning to wonder if this was normal. But now we were in a different system and I didn’t have a doctor yet. Frankly, I was scared that something was wrong. And Dr. Google wasn’t helping.
After arriving in Illinois it took 33 days for me to be seen for follow-up care for my miscarriage. We were on TRICARE Prime Remote, but for some reason when my PCM put in a referral for OB services TRICARE decided to send me to Naval Station Great Lakes OB which was about a 2-hour drive with city traffic from our house. Multiple calls, and an Interactive Customer Evaluation (ICE) complaint later someone finally reached out, only to tell me that they no longer have OB services and they would fix my referral back to the one my PCM put in for. I was exhausted, still scared, but relieved that I would finally be seen. In the end, everything was fine, but that experience still causes a slight trauma response just thinking about it. Once I was seen and cleared we were able to breathe again, get settled into our new town, look to the future, and find a new clinic.
Come back every Tuesday to walk this journey with Julie Eshelman as part of the MilSpouse Memoirs, stories brought to you in chapters, one week at a time.