Yesterday I was back at the OB-GYN. My morning appointment was moved to an afternoon one because the doctor was in labor and delivery. He delivered two babies before I saw him at 3:45. It is highly unusual for an OB to deliver all of his or her patients anymore, but mine does. So appointments are switched around an awful lot. In large practices where you are delivered by whoever is on call this doesn’t happen. But I think the trade off having to be flexible about appointment time is more than worth it.
The miscarriage saga continues. I told him about passing the clot last week, and how I’d been bleeding for more than a week. He was pretty sure I was having my period, but it is still unclear if my uterus is housing anything it shouldn’t. He sent me to get a blood test which will let us know what the deal is. If I’ve still got placenta hanging out in there we can try another drug, but if that doesn’t work I get another D&C. And the timeline of getting pregnant again will be pushed back another month or two. I will be crushed if this is not over. It has been a month and six days since we found out we lost the baby. I need to be able to move on. I’ve said it before, but I can’t heal mentally if I’m not healed physically. I need to know there is a day in the near future that we can start trying to get pregnant again. And I am sick and tired of not knowing what the fuck is going on with my body.
Technically it was my yearly exam, so the doc was asking tons of questions including, “So have you have any hospitalizations or medical situations in the last year? I mean other than, you know, the stuff we’ve done together.” He seriously cracks me up. I told him nope and he continued to look through my chart. After a moment he said, “Um, you had a basal cell carcinoma removed from your right nipple.” “Oh yeah” I said, “I forgot about that. Last fall wasn’t that great for me, health wise.”
It’s weird how things that seem really bad at the time can quickly be forgotten. I mean dude, it was cancer. Non scary, completely removed cancer, but cancer all the same. And I totally forgot it happened. It gives me hope that our current pain, which feels so consuming will fade. I don’t think I will ever forget it, and I don’t want to. We lost a part of our family, or maybe it is more accurate to say the promise of what our family would become. If we are lucky enough to have another baby it will not replace the one we lost. It will make our family different in its own way. Our chance of having two babies 20 months apart is gone. The person our baby would have become is gone. The embryo was only alive in me for 6 weeks and 5 days, but I will always love it and there will always be a void in our family to me.
A quick little extra story about the insensitivity of medical jargon:
On the way up to get my blood drawn I glanced at the paperwork I was instructed to take with me and under diagnosis it said “Incomplete Abortion”. Now, I love my doctor and he has not ever been insensitive to me. Evidently certain miscarriages are medically referred to as abortions. When a friend of mine lost her pregnancy a doctor referred to the D&C as an abortion to her face. Understandably she was incredibly hurt. When I saw the word abortion on the paper it was hard not to cry. I am grateful I have the right to choose what happens to my own body, but Jesus Christ I loved and wanted this baby so badly. It is a slap in the face to see what happened characterized with a word that has such a different meaning to a lay person. My vote is they come up with a different name for an embryo or fetus who dies without a spontaneous miscarriage. I’m just not sure where to cast my ballot.
T goosing his cousin on his first birthday. Since it’s a bit of a sad post I thought something lighthearted was in order. And this never fails to crack me up.