Previously ...

I have tried to journal my whole life and have always been a miserable failure. This blog is the only consistent record of me, and I know that feeling that I am writing to someone, even an unknown someone, keeps me posting. I am so happy to have this, and you friends that I've met through blogging, in my life. I want to make it a complete record, so I am transcribing here the one journal entry I did make between bad news and miscarriage. It's pretty self-explanatory. I'm transcribing everything except things that are private to other people.

I'm not wallowing, or trying to press any sympathy buttons. I am very hopeful just now, and feeling strong, and ready for my last trip down the ART road.  The sentence I didn't transcribe in context below, because it was in the middle of the paragraph I had to take out, pretty well sums it up:

"I just cannot imagine how horrible depression feels. Even now, as sad and crushed as I am, I still do not feel despair."

I just want to remember.

 

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September 11, 2005

I feel that I should remember this whole experience in agonizing detail. I worry that I will forget, eventually. I know myself at least well enough to know that with time the details, maybe all of the details, will fade. I planted a hydrangea in the garden yesterday but I don't want that to be my only remembrance.

Here is a picture of my first pregnancy. I am proud, and pleased, and happy that we at least got far enough to see that little, fluttering sign on the screen. Only 3.9mm, so tiny. Not a proper heart at 6 weeks (4 weeks past conception), but the tiny cells that will be the heart, contracting rhythmically for their own reason, no brain even to do the controlling. It never got beyond embryo stage to become a fetus. That would have been this week.

We waited until after the 6 week ultrasound to tell our parents.  D was unexpectedly excited and emotional. We both cried in the Dr.s office. He called his mother right away. My parents were out of town, D left for Paris a day after the appointment. We waited until both were back, a week and three days after the confirming scan, to tell them. I was so emotional. As it turns out, it was already over by then. Some time shortly after the visit, probably while D was in Paris development stopped.

I can't decide how I feel about the three weeks of happy expectation, mental plan-making, temptation to tell everyone, certainty that it was so obvious, must be obvious to people around me what was going on.

Thursday September 8 was our first official visit to the OB. 9 weeks, 1 day. It began normally, terribly late, D arrived in an awful, foul humor. Talking about leaving his job, his terrible day.

What seemed like a gallon of blood drawn by an odd phlebotomist from the lab company, unable almost to make eye contact and reeking of cigarette smoke. My bladder was terribly full but blood pressure good, 118/60.

Dr. E is delightful, very sweet, quite smart, anticipated a lot of our questions about food, etc. Gave me the external and internal exam, pap smear. Cervix good and closed, uterus "nice and grapefruity." We asked her for an ultrasound, which is optional on first visit. She started with abdominal. Bladder was so full and nothing was visible externally so she had me pee -- collecting most of it in a specimen cup for some other kind of testing.

Then she switched to the transvaginal u/s, the old wand of love. I don't know why the panic didn't start right away but thankfully it just built so gradually that I almost didn't notice. She professed lack of skill with the equipment, odd position of the pregnancy sac near the back of the uterus. After a good 5 minutes of searching, she stopped, saying she'd send me for a higher res scan. She was staring so hard at the screen she had tears running down her face. Contacts, she said.

After we were dressed and back in our room, she confessed that she was concerned. The exam and pregnancy questions stopped then. We discussed options for proceeding if something had happened to the pregnancy. I am grateful now that we had that chance to prepare.

D was so sure, leaving, that it was a fluke, that everything was fine, the u/s machine was not as good as Dr. Rs.  I was sure this was a very bad thing, having just read a blog post about what crap the "higher resolution" scan story is. It was a very bad night with lots of tears for me and very little sleep.

Had to give a lame excuse to work the next day and went in for a 10:15 appointment. With again a very full bladder and a long waiting room wait. Thankfully the hospital was very efficient, no messes with paperwork.

Our ultrasound tech's name was R, there was an intern I think named M. Both very small women. R was a little terse in her directions, but quick, and direct. Again, she started with the abdominal scan, then switched to transvaginal after emptying my huge bladder. Propped my butt up with a pillow. Checked ovaries first. Right, normal. Left ... long pause ... also normal. Then checking the uterus and she said,

"You should be nine weeks and two days. What I see measures just over seven weeks and there is no heartbeat. I'm sorry. No blood flow to the baby."

She left the room quickly to get Dr. E on the phone. D and I both cried, but kept control. Dr. E. was very kind. I wanted to try to wait it out naturally, but also wanted to try for testing, to see if we could determine a cause for the loss. She explained how to do it and instructed us to pick up containers from the office. We left quickly, got the containers, and headed home.

I have been up and down since then, a mess of tears and sadness mostly, but also some hopefulness when I talk to D about our plans to start again. D, again, has been surprisingly emotional, particularly after he told his mother, but I can see that he will recover quickly. I hope I will too but I don't know. 

I have been enjoying outdoors more than before, did first bits of gardening in months yesterday afternoon. Keeping busy and preoccupied will I'm sure be the key but life seems so blank and empty suddenly and most of my soothing activities seem unbearable. The things I'm facing at work this year seem unbearable now that I know it will be a full academic year at least, not a spring baby, a fall baby if we are very very lucky and try again soon and succeed. Pregnant through the heat of summer? God I hope so and we should be so lucky.

I am afraid of the actual miscarriage. I fear a D&C more than a natural one at this point.  I have a strainer to try to catch and preserve the miscarriage*, if I can. It will be gruesome and painful. I hope it will be enough. I hope it happens soon. Soon soon please.

I have not cried today. I am going to my parent's house later and fear I will cry there. My brothers haven't called. I'm sure they don't know what to say. I dread those conversations. D told his family: no sympathy, no need to discuss or call. I feel very alone. Floating in this weekend of knowing but not knowing, waiting but dreading. Anxious to get it over and move on.

D wants to start again right away. We want to see what happens if we try naturally. I am afraid of but looking forward to that. 

I am tired of writing this and will soon start repeating myself.

Something smells good, sitting out here. Like meat loaf or something.  I keep mistaking full bladder and gas for cramps. God I hope they come soon.

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*I did, and it was awful, but they couldn't culture anything. My RE says that almost never works because the tissue is contaminated passing over the cervix.

Comments

[Alexa]

When I got to this part "certainty that it was so obvious, must be obvious to people around me what was going on" I lost it. I remember that so well. This was a really hard post for me to read. I am so sorry for your loss, Mary Scarlet.

[MsPrufrock]

Part of the reason I started my blog was to document what was going on with me in a more disciplined way. I too wanted to make sure I didn't forget the more painful side of what I was going through, though admittedly I have thus far not had the misfortune of miscarriage.

I'm sorry you have had to deal with such a loss, and I hope you never have to document a similar event again.

[DD]

I could never had collected a natural m/c, especially ours at 12-15 wks. I'm glad we made the decision we did as I figure if the baby was big enough to take footprints from, I could never have turned over its little body to a facility to culture once I had seen it.

Remain hopeful, even when you think there can be no hope left.

[Spanglish]

This was a difficult post to read.

I don't know what to say, except I understand.

I wish I did not. I wish you did not.

[Donna]

Thank you for sharing this very painful time. I'm glad you are feeling hopeful, even after going back over this difficult ground.

[Lori]

It's amazing that having gone through what you did that you are feeling hopeful and strong. Thank you for sharing this entry.

[amanda]

I'm sorry you had to experience any of that. I hate that any of us have had to. Dealing with the products of conception after my m/c is something that will never leave me. It's even hard to think about now. I'm sorry you had to go through that, too.

[OvaGirl]

A very difficult post. A very sad and intense experience. But you are right to document it and sort it as part of this journey. I started my blog for the same sorts of reasons as you. These events we are experiencing are too important to be forgotten.

I am so sorry it happened this way.

Take care
xxx

[Portlairge]

Thank you for sharing that. It must have been painful to write and it was sad to read.I am so sorry.

[pixi]

Oh god, the ultrasound gone bad is just so awful. I hope you never have to endure it again. Ever.

I hope writing about it was helpful in some way, though.