I miscarried yesterday.
I’d been feeling mildly shitty all weekend and chalked it up to early pregnancy blahs, which, if you think you missed something, you didn’t. I wasn’t telling people yet. We were waiting to get used to the idea. (Does one ever get used to such an idea?)
On Sunday, around 3, the cramping was mild and not unusual for me. I chalked it up to being tired (I’d done a photo session with little kids earlier in the day) and the normal ache of a uterus expanding to make room for a growing embryo. Then I noticed I was bleeding. Barely, but still.
It got worse as I spent hours in the hospital getting poked, prodded and examined, and worse back at home, in the shower, where I did the “lay in the tub crying with the water pounding on your back” thing, which does not feel overly dramatic when you are actually in that much pain, and worst of all as I crawled into bed and rocked, and moaned, and let it happen. I have no idea how long it lasted, but it was agonizing; the worst pain I’ve ever been in.
And then I stood up and went to the bathroom, and it passed, in two pieces, and in the haze of pain I had the wherewithal to reach and catch everything in the palm of my hand, seconds before I would have missed it.
I’m sorry, is that gross? It kind of is. For me, it was a good moment. All of the joy that I had been feeling for weeks switched itself into joy at having not literally had my dreams go down the drain. It just would have been too sad.
And then it was over, seven hours beginning to end.
Jen asked how “my heart is” (I had been texting her throughout for support; she was my only friend that knew I was expecting.)
I said I felt both victorious with my quick reflexes and so relieved it was over and that the pain stopped that being sad was an afterthought (also, I’m a scientist at heart, and I knew my chances of having a full-term pregnancy at this stage were at best two out of three, so I wasn’t too attached yet.)
She pointed out that I did what a mama does (which was weird and awesome, because that was first time anyone referred to me as mama): I loved and protected as best I could, and so, she said, “take the victory”.
You guys? You need a friend like her if you don’t have one already. That single perspective shift rocked my world. Thanks, Jen. I love you to bits.
I’m so happy Rob was home, and he was there with me for all of it in the E.R., managing to sneak me a grilled cheese from the diner next door amid the endless waiting. He’s sad, but that’s his business and so I won’t talk about it.
I still have to go to the hospital every other day this week to make sure my pregnancy hormones are fading as they should (otherwise they worry about an ectopic pregnancy, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the case).
In the meantime, I don’t know what to do with myself! What does one do when one is suddenly not pregnant?
Oh, wait, that’s a really stupid question.
photo from Amateur Couture