Sometimes the only way for me to process an experience is to write about it. When my mind is full of thoughts, I take one out, write it down and place it on a shelf next to the other things I've written. The weight is transferred elsewhere, to a place I can visit as I please but is less present than the thoughts pushing their way to the front, wanting their turn to make it on the page.
So here we are and here I am, about to tell you a little story, in more depth then anyone needs to know. It's not a pretty story but it's one that some of you share with me.
A week ago I had a miscarriage.
I was only 5 weeks pregnant. We had only been celebrating for 5 days but I still feel the sting.
Christchurch, New Zealand 2010
The previous Sunday, before B came home from a trip, I snuck into the bathroom and took a pregnancy test. Actually it was the third test I had taken in less than a week. Despite the fact that it was unlikely those expensive little sticks could actually tell me I was pregnant a week before my expected period, I took the first one 7 days before anyway. Of course, it was negative. So I took one a few days later and again, it was negative. I waited to take the 3rd one because I had a book club meeting in the morning and I knew that if it was positive I wouldn't be able to keep a secret and my whole book club would know before B.
So there I was trying to hide from Peanut as I peed on a stick (I mean, I don't want to find him trying to pee on any stick he comes across) and I just knew it was positive. When I saw that double line I just smiled to myself, did a little jig and went about my day. That evening, when B, Peanut and I were all in bed (as part of the pre-bath routine), I handed the test to Peanut, who handed it to Daddy, who said thank you and then something along the lines of "What the.... are you serious... is this real.... really?!...." followed by a lot of laughing and a little more shock.
I have it all on video and can't decide whether or not to delete it.
We spent the next 5 days planning and dreaming. Well, one step closer to the planning and dreaming we have already been doing.
On Friday we were moving out of the apartment, just wrapping things up when I noticed a little blood on the toilet paper after I went to the bathroom. I spotted with Peanut so I didn't worry too much. It was a busy day with us moving out of the apartment and moving in with my parents. B headed in to work and I headed to my parents where we are living for the next few weeks. When we go there I went straight to the bathroom where I was greeted with more blood and some clotting. I knew then. I told my dad I had to make a run to the restaurant (as we hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy) and headed to see my doctor, calling B along the way. That's when the cramping started.
It was odd, standing in line at Kaiser, stopping to get blood work done, exchanging smiles with the receptionist and waiting in the lobby while I was losing our baby. The world keeps moving around you as things slowly unravel inside you. I calmly answered 20 minutes worth of questions before my exam. So you say you are bleeding? Yes. Heavily? Um, yes, I think so. What is your family's medical history? What is your breast cancer history? What do you do on every second Tuesday after a blue moon in autumn?
I think I was mostly numb by then, or maybe it was just denial. No, it couldn't be denial, I think being a good patient is my default. I was flying on autopilot. I know how to be a nice, calm patient under a variety of circumstances.
When I finally rolled back for the exam, the doctor told me there was a lot of bleeding and the nurse went to get... whatever it was that she got to clean up the blood while I stared at the ceiling and thought about how I needed to shave my legs and wondered if I should apologize for my hairy legs and flakey toe nail polish. I was still calm and smiling politely when I answered questions. I believe I very calmly said, "Damn, I thought so, I thought I felt a lot of blood. Sorry, are you sure you want to do this exam now?"
"Yes, you're about halfway through your miscarriage."
Waitomo, New Zealand, 2010
That's when the tears came, sliding silently down my face. When she looked up at me, I watched her face contort in slow motion. I had been so calm she didn't realize how upset I would be. I watched her blink back tears and then apologize to me as she placed her hand on my prickly knee. I apologized for crying and told her I already knew. Hearing the word miscarriage was all it took, really. Sometimes reality really sucks.
She told me I could take something to complete the miscarriage or I could let it run it's course over the next week or two. All I could think was that maybe it wasn't actually happening and I didn't want to kill the baby. But it was happening and I was sitting in the pool of blood to prove it. I think she read it on my face because she did an ultrasound to show the clotting in the uterus. When she left I asked her for a pad and wondered out loud how it's possible that in this day and age they still hand out pads the size of airline pillows. How can this be? Someone answer me!
At the pharmacy I couldn't stop crying and I went back and forth between wanting to escape and wanting to tell the lady looking questioningly at me, that I was losing my baby. I was about halfway through losing the little one I only found out about 5 days earlier. I wanted to call B but I knew I would fall apart right there in the waiting room. The pharmacist gave me something for the pain and paused when he read through the medicine. I watched his face sink as he looked at the words
partial miscarriage and
pending miscarriage. He kept apologizing as I cried into the paper towel he brought me.
I called B from the car and he gave me what comfort he could in the middle of his shift. I headed to my parents knowing that I couldn't keep what was happening a secret.
I was pregnant but now I'm not. Right now, as we speak, I am having a miscarriage. The bleeding should stop in a week or so. Next week this will all be over. Next week we will not be picking out names or crib bedding.
I stood in the bathroom, looking down at the toilet and it's contents, and wondered if my baby was in there. Just the size of a sesame seed.
That night was the worst. The blood and pain a constant reminder of what was happening. The next day I woke to go to work and remembered that I wasn't pregnant. I was only 5 weeks along and still it hurt. I can only imagine what it was like for friends who have lost babies much later on.
Each day things become more final, more a part of the past and less a part of the present.
I read the email that said my labs are normal and feel detached. Now my body no longer recognizes that I was pregnant. Is this a good thing? I suppose it is.
I want it all to stop. I don't want to see the blood anymore. I don't want the reminder.
I'm glad it happened so early. I realize that things probably weren't as they should have been and so my body did what was best. I just don't want to think about it all the time.
I don't mind talking about it with friends, I don't cry every time I think about it anymore, I just don't want to think about the why and what ifs.
For now I want to have some down time. I want to think about the house we're moving into, about getting back into shape and creating the healthiest body I can, about swim lessons with the Peanut and date night with daddy. For now I want to rest.
