Sunday Picture

A sweet little picture to lighten the mood of my so-far-sad blog, Vagus the cat sniffing flowers from my Mom and Dad:

Start of a Long Weekend

I didn't sleep well Thursday night; the heaviness in my heart kept waking me up.  My older cat, Vagus, must have known I was in need, because he spent the entire night curled against my chest.  Every time I woke up feeling lost, I was reassured that Vagus was still snuggled under my arm.

Being up and active at work yesterday made me cramp and bleed all over again.  After 6 months of not taking any Aleve, I've taken at least 2 every day since Tuesday - I'd hoped that Friday would be my first drug free day.  But instead, I even broke down and took a Lortab last night before bed.  The pain wasn't really any worse than bad period cramps, but I was weak and didn't want to wake up all night with the physical pain an extra reminder of what I've lost.

I've gone back to cleaning out the litter box without gloves or a mask.  This week, I put away my "safe in pregnancy" wrinkle cream and went back to the stuff with retinol in it.  My stomach is recovering from pregnancy nausea, and I've actually eaten real food this week.  And all I want is go to back to feeling nauseated and eating only potatoes.  To go back to the hassle of gloving up for a litter box change.  To risk a few more wrinkles by putting away my good wrinkle cream in favor of the inferior safe in pregnancy stuff.

Instead, I'm taking this long weekend to cave - the kitchen is stocked with apple jacks cereal (which surprisingly isn't as good as I remembered), pop tarts (which, unfortunately, are as good as I remembered), frozen pizza, cookies, and ice cream, so I don't have to leave the house if I don't want to.  I've got lots of movies, DirecTV and a Kindle, so my entertainment is covered as well.  I'm hiding from everyone.  I'm hoping a little time on my own will help me find my balance.

I'm still teetering between tears and hope, and I guess that's still why I'm confused about how I feel and where I am right now.  I feel like I should be in the depths of despair.  And at times I am - I've lost my baby.  Of the two dreams I've had for my personal life - to be married to a great man and to be a mom - I was finally going to achieve one of them.  But just like every good (or potentially good) relationship I've ever been in, my pregnancy ended much too soon.  I've always achieved my professional goals, am I ever going to have the same success in my personal life?  Right now, a part of me thinks it will never happen.

But then I remember what my doctor told me - now I know I can get pregnant.  My borderline fertility labs made me question that, but now I know it's possible.  I think my confusion is that I'm not sure how to deal with the feelings of sadness and loss existing simultaneously with feelings of hope.  By acknowledging the hopefulness I feel deep in my heart, am I avoiding dealing with the sadness?  Am I compromising my healing if I don't feel sad and miserable all the time?  Or am I just overthinking it all?

I probably am.  I know I've written more already today than I meant to write.  I need to stopping thinking so much and just let myself feel whatever it is I'm feeling right now.

Feeling a Little Lost

I’m not sure how I feel. Or how I’m supposed to feel. I know I’m sad. I know I feel empty. And I started crying over the story of a hurt puppy on my way home from work (which is definitely the hormones talking). But I don’t feel hopeless.  Instead, I actually feel a little spark of hope in the midst of my sadness.  I’ve read other blogs about miscarriage, and they all seem to be in a different place than me, all in the depths of a deep depression, and I don’t feel like that’s where I am. Or maybe I’m in that deep, dark depression, and I don’t even realize that I am.  Or maybe I'm focusing so much on that little spark of hope, on the thought of trying again, that I'm not allowing myself to grieve.

It was my first day back at work after my D&C today. At lunch I just wanted to get away. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and the people I was sitting next to clearly didn’t know what to say to me. Really, it’s not that hard. “I’m sorry.” That’s all you have to say when something bad happens to someone, and you don’t know what to say. Just, “I’m sorry.” Or even, “I’m sorry for your loss. And I don’t know what else to say.” It’s a lot less painful to hear that, than to see someone uncomfortable to be around you search for something, anything to talk about while you’re in the room.  

But in the meantime, I’d like someone to tell me how I’m supposed to act, and how I’m supposed to feel. Because just 8 days ago I was nervous, but excited, too. Worried about my upcoming ultrasound, but hopeful I was wrong, and that I’d be announcing my pregnancy to the world in just a few weeks. And now I’m not. And I don’t know what to do.

The Loss

Friday, Heidi was in town, and she, LB and I went to my next ultrasound appointment. As soon as the picture came up on the screen, I knew. My baby was gone. I’d had a feeling for a while - I hadn’t wanted to write in my journal, I hadn’t felt the connection to the baby anymore. I kept telling myself that I was just being overly worried, but I guess I should have trusted my intuition. It looks like a chromosomal abnormality, so nothing I could have done any differently, it just happened.

Dr. M, my usual RE wasn’t there, Dr. H was. And I’m actually glad, Dr. H’s personality suited what I needed then – just matter of fact and calm. I didn’t need soothing, I didn’t want to start crying until I was out of the office. We dropped Heidi off at work, and then LB dropped me off at home, and I went in and collapsed on the pullout couch. I cried some, but mainly I just stared into space and felt numb.

Heidi came home around noon – and while I hate that it was a horrible weekend for her, I’m so glad she was here. She knew just what I needed, without me having to tell her, and sometimes when I didn't even know what it was that I needed myself. We went to the movies with LB on Friday night, and my sister and her infant son came by on Saturday, and we did a little shopping, but otherwise we hung out at home.

I couldn’t believe that just a few weeks ago I was so happy, imagining another life inside me, and now I was walking around with the remains of my dream, dead inside me.

Monday I went to work. It was awful, and I was in a fog all day, but I’m glad I went and got the first day back over with. Tuesday was my D&C.

LB picked me up around 7, and we went to Dr. M’s office for an ultrasound. I think he really wanted to do it so I’d know the baby was really gone, but I knew already. The baby was a little smaller, and there was some bleeding evident, so a natural miscarriage wasn’t far off. But I wanted to the D&C, it’s less painful, and recovery is faster. We walked from his office to the one day surgical unit, where I was checked in. A nurse brought us back and I changed into a gown, had my vitals checked and an IV started. I met with the anesthesiologist and then was wheeled down the hall on the stretcher, to the OR. I started crying when they were pushing me down the hall – I guess the Versed kicked in and I couldn’t control my grief any longer. Which was probably a good thing.

When we got the OR, I was strapped in on the table, and Dr. M was waiting. The anesthesiologist started to give me some Fetanyl, and then said, “Does your arm always look like this?” My IV had infiltrated – which of course he blamed on me being in the healthcare field. He tried to start another in my right hand and failed, and ended up having to put a smaller one in my left hand.

The next thing I remember is waking up, crying again, as they got me settled in recovery. My first nurse was so nice. She talked to me, encouraged me to take pain medication, and brought LB back when I was feeling up to it. My heart rate was up, so I got lots of IV fluids, and then I was considered stable enough to move to the second phase of recovery. I got really nauseated while there, and ended up getting IV Zofran, and then two doses of IV Phenergan before it was under control. I think I ended up staying a little longer than usual because of that, but finally was steady enough to go home. It was such a horrible day, but it was so much better thanks to the good care that I got – the nursing staff in particular was wonderful.

At home, LB pulled out the couch for me, got all my stuff downstairs, and got me settled while she made me some mac and cheese. She had to leave a little after that, so I dozed on the couch, and cried off and on. Lisa came by later in the day, bringing me Aleve and the last of my prescriptions from the pharmacy. She kept me company for a few hours, and then I was on my own. I got lots of calls and texts all day, which made me feel very loved. But so sad.

I feel so empty now. I loved the thought that I wasn’t alone any more. I loved putting my hand over my lower belly and imagining the little baby that was growing inside. I was already imagining what Christmas would be like this year, and imagining my baby in my arms. I know this baby wasn’t meant to be, but I’m grieving the dream of this baby. She’d already taken hold of my heart, and I’ll never be the same now that she’s gone.

I think I always knew this would happen. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. I’m ready to start thinking about trying again in July, but right now I need to let myself be sad and recover from this loss.