There wasn’t a miracle at the OB-GYN office yesterday. There was a lot of waiting, though. We didn’t get seen until an hour after our appointment. Way to keep us in suspense. There was a lot of staring at the millions of pregnant ladies in the waiting room with dagger eyes. It was involuntary. Thank God Z was there. We kept each other laughing during the wait because the television was on HGTV. We whispered bitchy things to each other about the “design” implemented in this poor couple’s sun room. Once in the exam room Z was ready to do a dramatic reading from the herpes pamphlet and every time there was a lull in the conversation he would offer to give me a copy. And after we found out the pregnancy was over he held me for a really long time.
Some bad stuff about this situation:
Maybe the worst thing is the realization that there has been a dead embryo in my uterus for the last few weeks as I blithely did my thing and got more and more excited for its arrival on or about April 3rd. Do I ever feel like a first class idiot. How could I be so stupid? How could my body be so stupid? It also has been blithely doing its thing, like making me nauseous and growing my uterus so my pants don’t fit any more. I had on a pair of maternity capris last Friday when we went to the doctor. Boy I felt like a fool pulling those things back on after the appointment. So for the next few weeks I’ll be all sweatpants all the time. I just can’t wear the maternity stuff post losing the baby. And I sure as hell can’t fit into my regular pants.
Here’s an amusing little story about how much this is making me hate myself. Yesterday Z told me an acquaintance of ours told him T is a looker and he takes after me because I have a beautiful face. Compliments and I are not the best of friends in the good times, but my honest to God reaction was, “She only said that because she knows I lost the baby.” Good thing I’m in therapy people. I am currently suspicious of everyone.
Last night after putting T down I told Z I wanted to take a chill pill because I’ve felt like I have been experiencing one long anxiety attack since Friday. More than anything I wanted him to say, “No. It’s not safe. There is still a tiny chance you are pregnant.” Instead he said, “I think that is probably a good idea.” That made me cry harder than anything that has happened so far. There isn’t any more hoping. It’s over.
I’m still numb and still devastated. I’m terrified for the moment when I’m not numb anymore.
I can clean the litter box again. OK, maybe not the best attempt at humor, but work with me. I’m still a mess here.
Some good stuff about this situation:
Minus the waiting thing, the doctors involved with this have been unbelievably kind and compassionate. They are treating me like a real live person who is suffering a real loss, which feels welcome after my experience last fall. When I told the doctor I was concerned about miscarrying at home because the mechanics of it would be similar to what happened before the remainder of my placenta was removed after T’s birth she told us to wait in the room so she could speak to my regular doctor about scheduling me for a D&C right away. I will be able to have the procedure done on Friday and I believe it will be significantly less traumatic than waiting (maybe for weeks) for it to happen on its own. Not that it won’t be traumatic to get the D&C…
My amazing sister in law told me that the way she tried to think about it after suffering a miscarriage was she would be able to help any women in her life who went through the same thing. She has helped me so much, and I while I don’t wish this on anyone I will now be able to approach those women who go through it with empathy and not just sympathy.
There was a moment this afternoon when I was really starting to lose it. And just as the waterworks were getting started T had an explosive crap. It was everywhere, all over him and all over my mom. So I pulled myself together and we cleaned it up. Doesn’t matter if it is because he is being adorable or a pain in the ass, T is the most wonderful distraction in the world.
Speaking of my mom, she dropped everything to come up here and take care of me for a week.
I’ve been pretty sure I caused this miscarriage because of the anxiety I experienced surrounding the bedbug incident (the timing works). I floated that theory to my shrink today and she spun it for me. She said maybe I was having an anxiety attack because I lost the pregnancy and not vice versa. She might be full of shit, but it made me feel better.
One of my dearest friends told me if her mother hadn’t had a miscarriage she never would have been born. I’m sorry her mother suffered a miscarriage, but I am so glad she was born. She gave me some hope for the future. If I get pregnant again soon I am sure I will love that child so much I will be unable to imagine things working out any other way.
I am self indulgent enough to put my writing out into the old internet. And my friends are kind enough to read it and give me comfort. Thank you.
We are practicing sitting on the potty. He totally digs it.