I've been dreading this post.
All I can say is, 7 weeks of hell for nothing. Nothing.
I found out I was pregnant a week or so before my birthday. I had been feeling ill for a week prior, but attributed it to a lingering virus or poor eating or exhaustion. Anything but the P word. And then the positive pregnancy test.
As I don't have much energy, you can read most of that story here.
After 7 weeks of constant nausea, dry heaving/puking, and all other kinds of pregnancy symptoms, things went downhill. Downhill with ultrasounds, that is. We had one at 7 weeks, no heart beat. I started spotting at 8 weeks (exactly) and called the doctor; he asked that I come in the following morning. Another ultrasound with absolutely no change and no heart beat. Ben, the doctor, and I knew what that meant. I went home with a sliver of hope that things just weren't showing up--I mean I was still so freaking sick!--but almost sure of what I could expect.
A few hours after the appointment, I started cramping and bleeding. It was pretty moderate but enough that I knew exactly what was happening. On Sunday, the cramping turned to full out contractions (the kind your doctor tells you to go to the hospital for when you are 8 months pregnant) and heavy bleeding. It was marvelous. I really wish epidurals were available for that experience, for I was giving birth to a fetus--albeit unviable.
The contractions continued through Monday. After that, just blood. Lots of blood. I saw the doctor on Tuesday. She had no answers just lots of sympathy. (I heart my doctor.) We talked a little about what this third miscarriage might mean--something I'm not ready to discuss yet. (But, as she said, three miscarriages in 14 months shows there is some type of problem that would require pricey fertility treatments and blood work.)
So. Here we are. Again. But this time, things seemed to be going so so well!
Anyway. How am I doing? Angry. Bitter. Miserable.
Physically, things have gone as they are supposed to after a miscarriage. Yay for me. Emotionally? Well it's complicated. Please don't say, "Take care of those two babies you have now." Believe me, we are grateful for them. My love hasn't diminished for them but my soul is hurting. Really hurting.
Oh and the timing couldn't be any better--right as we are set to move. Here I am physically and emotionally unable to contemplate all that needs to be done. And Ben needs his space to grieve as well.
I know, God doesn't give you trials you can't handle. Uh huh. I'll consider that while I'm sobbing my heart out for another lost baby.
For now I have no desire except to hole up in our apartment stuffing my face with chocolate, ice cream, and cookies. Weight gain? I could care less. A schedule for the kids? What's the point. They know something bad happened and have their own emotional needs right now.
Not much of an up-beat post. Such is life.
