This melodrama of a miscarriage is wearing me down. I feel like I’m a character in a telenovela thrown barely plausible twists and turns resulting in at least one freak out complete with weeping and gnashing of the teeth per week. I’m also starting to fear I sound like I’m making this shit up. Not that it’s so bad in the scheme of things. There are plenty of worse heartbreaks out there than a miscarriage that drags on and on without resolution. But I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I want, no, I need to move on.
Yesterday I spent almost two hours at the doctor’s office waiting to get a shot of Methotrexate. Part of the reason I waited so long was for the results of the blood test I’d had in the morning. The good news was my HCG levels went down 5 points to 28. The bad news was my HCG levels only went down 5 points and this far out from the D&C we need them to be at 0. So it looked like I would be getting the shot. Before the appointment I should have done some research on the drug, but I didn’t. The nurse started going over side effects with me, and I got very nervous. Then she said I’d need to wait 8 weeks after the drug was out of my system (which would take several weeks itself) to get pregnant. I told her to hold it—the doctor had said if this shot worked I could try after my next cycle. Then she said I couldn’t breast feed. That’s when I had to really fight back the tears. I haven’t begun to wean T, she was saying if I got the shot I’d have to cut him off cold turkey. Clearly I asked her to clarify with the doctor.
This is the first interaction I’ve had concerning my miscarriage care that I haven’t been 100% comfortable with. The nurse was very nice, but I hadn’t met her before and she didn’t seem to know anything about the drug. All this info came from a book she had at her desk. And honestly, almost two hours is a really long time to wait especially with a 14 month old who is missing his nap in order to be there. Little man was a champ for the first hour and a half, and I really couldn’t begrudge him the meltdown that occurred after that. When I did finally hear back from the doctor she said she didn’t know I was breastfeeding. But I’ve been in that office an awful lot lately and each time I’ve spoken to the doctors I’ve made it clear I still am. The upshot is I was not given the medicine. I need to have more blood drawn Thursday and hope the levels have gone down much more.
The complicating factor is T and I are leaving town for a month on November 2nd. We are going south to visit family; we’ve had the plans for months, well before I lost the baby. But when I had the D&C on September 10th it didn’t occur to me I’d still be dealing with the miscarriage as we moved into late October.
Hindsight is always 20/20, but I’m starting to think I really made the wrong decision in the ER when I was presented with the choice of having another D&C or trying to get rid of the stuff left in my uterus with drugs. I thought the drugs would be less invasive, but now that I’ve looked up Methotrexate online it seems pretty damn scary. It’s primarily used to treat cancer. And the side effects are daunting. If’ I’d had the second D&C I’d only have had to wait an extra week to start trying for another baby. If my levels don’t go down fast enough before the end of the month and they decide I must take the Methotrexate I’m back another 10 weeks or so. I am tired, I am grumpy, I am scared. I just want this to end.
But I’m gonna do my best to end on a positive note. I pulled it together and didn’t have to take a chill pill after all this yesterday. That, my friends, is major progress.
T loves guitar playing with Z. And yes, he wears this outfit 80% of the time.