I wanted this one so much. While it took twenty plus weeks for excitement to set in with N, this time the affection set in immediately. I longed for and loved this little baby every single day for months before (s)he was conceived. But now that time has passed, and we'll never know who we created, but just that (s)he will always be missed.
This shit really sucks.
I walked into the hospital hoping and praying for a viable pregnancy, and walked out hoping and praying for a miscarriage. Now the waiting game has commenced and it will be Tuesday before we know what exactly what we're dealing with, but either way, it isn't a healthy baby. After six-plus hours in the hospital, I walked out with a blown vein in my wrist (yeah, thanks, nurse-- who then explained that was her third disaster today!), an ace bandage around my elbow where the real IV ended up going, a sore muscle from a Rhogam injection, a body full of Saline solution-- not sure why that was necessary, and a massive headache from low blood sugar and unadulterated stress.
I walked out after three doctors told me three different sets of results (A- There's no viable pregnancy so it's ectopic or a miscarriage, B- Most people with early bleeding go on to have healthy pregnancies, C- Yeah there's not much chance but we can't say anything for sure until you have more blood drawn in 48 hours, and then we ended with A again- If your betas go up, it's an ectopic pregnancy! If they go down, it's a straight miscarriage! And I have good news for you! Your betas are really low!), three people gave me three different internal exams and a fourth got me good with a vaginal ultrasound, and two ultrasounds showed nothing in my uterus except blood and a possible cyst toward my left ovary.
We had to share our sucky news after three and a half hours and an ultra-crabby N so that we could arrange some care for her, then I had to figure out how to text the friends who I excitedly told within days of my positive tests. It felt numbing and business-like and I still feel slightly nauseous from the chaos of it all. Also I'm closely monitoring myself for any new pains which means a second trip to the ER and an injection of something chemotherapy-related to "kill the cells" if it turns out to be an ectopic. I had to share our results with our nurse amidst tears because apparently she doesn't communicate with the other ER staff members, and then she spent five minutes looking up the information on my Rhogam injection because she's "not familiar with it." But I suppose that was better than the tech who greeted me with, "So you're here for vaginal bleeding that started today" and then when I explained that I believed myself to be six and a half weeks pregnant, he interrupted me: "Wait? You're pregnant?!" Not sure why that symptom would otherwise be problematic...
Every staff member I came into contact with was noticeably dismayed at my distress. While I appreciate empathy, I also feel that it's within the normal range of emotions to cry when told that your pregnancy is not viable. I didn't scream or yell or curse. I just nodded my head, said "okay," and the tears came. And oh, how they came. Hence the hangover. The swollen eyes and dry mouth and fuzzy head that keeps on thinking that this can't be real life except it is, and the dull headache and lack of appetite and fervent desire for a rewind and a different, happy ending.
I can talk and rationalize at myself all day long: this wasn't meant to be, something was very wrong, the baby was very sick, it will happen for real when it's meant to happen, I will be okay, we will be okay. And it's all true. But today I still want this pregnancy and this baby and I don't think it's fair that I have to wait. I appreciate empathy but I don't want to need it. I want joy and happiness and a baby in my arms come April 2013. And unless a person has personally been through a miscarriage, I don't think (s)he can ever truly understand. I know I never really did. Until now. But I don't want to.
Yeah, it sucks.
P.S.- I know that this is choppy and riddled with typos and contradictions and everything else that is an affront to writing as I know it, but this is written in the moment and out of my brain, through my hands and onto this page. So I'm leaving it raw + unedited, as it deserves to be.
P.P.S.- It's the day after, and this is definitely a miscarriage and not an ectopic pregnancy. Thank goodness. At least there's a smidge of closure for us.
P.P.P.S.- The physical experience is no joke. It's currently going on 1:30am on day two, and three ibuprofen isn't touching the cramping/ contractions/ soreness that now accompanies the rest of it. Baths have become a grotesque option and so now I sit, bored and sad and stuck in that cloud that says nothing is ever going to be fun again, with a heating pad and my computer. Wow, this sucks.
P.P.P.S.- It's now been one week. Physically I'm back to normal, functionally my pregnancy symptoms have subsided (the fact that aversions, etc. continue after a time following a miscarriage has got to be one of the sickest jokes of nature), and I have had fun. This experience won't ever leave me, but I don't think it will define me either. I feel confident that we will go on to have more babies, healthy ones that get to grow and come home with us, and that ray of hope is all I need for the moment.