I don’t even know how to start this entry. This past month has been a nightmare.
I had my HSG on September 18. Test came back negative – no blockages. My doctor was supposed to refer me to a specialist, but we hadn’t gotten around to that. Anyway.
I ovulated September 22nd or 23rd. Right on time. I know this because Quincy and I were in a pretty stressful, busy week, and neither of us had the energy to do what needed to be done the night I got my LH surge. I was angry, I was upset; we wasted the first of our “extra fertile” months after the HSG.
I wanna slap everyone who says, “the fun is in the trying.”
Wrong. Dead wrong. There’s nothing FUN about having to plan exact dates and times for sex, month after month, year after year. It turns something that should be and fun and romantic into a chore. Chores aren’t fun. But I digress.
Anyway. We missed our window, life goes on, we’ll maybe have more time to try next month. And then…things start happening.
I *knew* that I was pregnant Sept 29th. It would have only been about a week after ovulation, so I can’t describe how I knew, not really – but I was feeling different. My lower back had started hurting, to the point where I had to go to the chiropractor. I had a ton of creamy discharge…way more than I’ve ever really had. I’d been tracking my periods for so long I knew immediately that this cycle was different. I told my sister I thought I could be pregnant, but I had about a week to go before I’d even be late. I don’t like to test early anymore – it just adds to the misery when I get a negative result. So I’d wait until I was late to even buy a test…but I just knew.
Then I started spotting 4 days before my period due, and I did the unthinkable – I gave up hope. I always spot before my cycle; this was a little early, but it never, ever occurred to me that this may be different. I just settled into my gloom, thinking the two week wait was over. I was spotting. This was my period coming. I called my sister and we cried it out. I just gave up.
And there are so many things I should have done differently. Here it was, what we’ve been waiting for over eight years…and I ignored it.
The day came that my period was supposed to start. I’d stopped spotting, mostly, so I figured it was coming any minute. I was dizzy, nauseated, crampy…all things that happen when I’m about to get my period, only more so. A day went by. Two days. I started spotting again, just a bit. A third day.
When my period was four days late and I was still only spotting, I called my sister again. She convinced me to test. Sunday night, October 11th, I was officially 5 days late…and I finally took a pregnancy test. Actually, I took four tests. Three different brands.
I was pregnant.
Two days later I started bleeding, heavily. I called my doctor, and her receptionist told me to go the ER. I didn’t; I hate emergency rooms. Instead, I called a friend who had miscarried twice, and I had to promise her and Quincy that if it got worse or I got super light headed, we’d go to the ER. Then I went to the bathroom, closed myself in a stall and let all that life flow out of me. And cried and cried and cried.
I didn’t have any pads. I don’t wear them. I put in a tampon to stop the mess and tried to go back to work.
I called my doctor the next morning, once the bleeding had let up a bit. I was miscarrying and needed to see her. Her office never returned my call, so I went to my union’s health clinic and got a referral for a new ob/gyn. The diagnosis on the referral?
Spontaneous abortion. This was a nightmare.
I went to my new doctor Friday the 16th. I was better – the bleeding had let up a bit more, but it was still pretty bad. I didn’t even think we had a chance this month, I got pregnant anyway, and then we lost it. I was grieving, but doing better.
Until my new doctor did an ultrasound and we saw the little sac and all the…stuff…still in my uterus. I broke down in her office. I took a personal day off from work. I thought I was okay, but I was – and am – so far from okay I don’t know what to do.
I’m still bleeding. It’s been continuous and heavy for nearly two weeks… not counting the week or so of spotting prior to that. It was bad enough to miscarry, even when we weren’t expecting a pregnancy – but seeing all that hope and life and possibility leaking out of me is the worst thing in the world. It would let up a little, and I’d switch to just a panty liner for a day…and then it everything comes flooding out again. Having it stop and start like that over and over again…I start crying all over again every time I have to change pads.
I should have tested sooner. It may not have changed the outcome, but I’ll never know, and it eats at me. Maybe if I knew; if I would have tested sooner, I would have gone to the doctor when I didn’t stop spotting. Maybe they could have treated the threatened miscarriage instead of it ending like it did. I’ll never know.
Maybe if I knew, I wouldn’t have had coffee and tea trying to stop being so exhausted. Maybe the caffeine prompted the miscarriage. I dunno. If I knew, maybe I wouldn’t have gone to my chiropractor and gotten electrical stimulation and ultrasound on my sore back, which could have also caused the miscarriage. I’ll never know, but I can’t stop myself from taking the blame. Like it was my first test as a mom and I failed.
I’m not in a good place right now.
My Stork Got Lost 