It’s time to try again.

So, I said I’d post once my miscarriage was behind me.  I guess it’s that time.

I don’t really know why I feel the need to write about this.  Here goes.  Maybe part of me wants to get this out somewhere.

In my previous post I explained how it all happened.  Last month I took a pregnancy test on a Friday.  It was positive. I shared the news with Oatmeal on Saturday morning, but by Saturday evening I knew it would not last.  On Monday I was given a small amount of hope by my OB/Gyn, but on Wednesday it was confirmed that I was having an early miscarriage.

All in all, if I were being completely honest, I wasn’t as sad as I think most people expected me to be.  I actually felt incredibly awkward when I would talk to people about what I was going through, because 75% of people would look devastated for me when they heard our news.  And, well, I wasn’t really devastated.

I didn’t have time to start imagining a baby.  I didn’t have time to wrap my head around the fact that Poppyseed would be a sibling.  I didn’t have time to sit around and talk to Oatmeal about how awesome/different/scary/incredible it would be to have two small children.  My brain and my heart simply didn’t attach to the idea of this baby.

And for that, I am so very thankful.

It’s odd because I absolutely believe that a baby’s life begins at the moment of conception.  And last month, a piece of me and a piece of Oatmeal joined and became one thing – one tiny little entity – a life.   For me to consider it “a life” it doesn’t even have to have a heartbeat.  It just has to begin.

And yet, when my OB/Gyn looked at my sonogram and said, “Well, I see that your uterus is thick like it should be, but there’s just an irregular looking sac there… we should see something growing by now,” I understood.  The sciency part of me took over.  Nothing grew.  Nothing was there.  There was no baby.

I realize that the previous two paragraphs completely contradict one another.  I don’t know how else to explain my feelings.

I’m not saying that I left that appointment with no sadness.  I got into my car and cried alone in the parking lot.  It was rainy and gloomy and Oatmeal was out of town.  My sister is on the other side of the world.  I felt lonely and sad and …. lonely.  I was mad at myself for telling Oatmeal to go ahead and go on his business trip while at the same time relieved that I hadn’t kept him from his work for no reason.

But after that little spell of crying in my car, I was able to refocus.  All in all, it wasn’t the worst case scenario.  At one point my doctor had suspected that the pregnancy was ectopic, which would have required emergency surgery.  Had that been the case my life could have been in danger, and they may have needed to remove one fallopian tube.  That would have reduced my chances of getting pregnant again by quite a bit.  So all in all, continuing in one piece was a good thing.

But I had questions.  When will this miscarriage actually take place?  How long will it take?  How long after that will I have to wait before everything goes back to normal?  It was difficult because it was out of my control.  My doctor and I made the decision to let my body handle it naturally, but it was actually 10 more days before my body began to do just that.

I was told that it would be like a heavy period with lots of cramping.  Bingo – that is exactly what it was.  Only I was vastly unprepared for how painful the cramping would be.  I like to think that I have a relatively high pain tolerance – I had a baby naturally – but these cramps reminded me of labor.  They stopped me in my tracks and made me want to lie down and whimper.  (Totally never did that, ha.  May have gripped a few steering wheels and counter tops but that was it.)  I was also unprepared for how it would hurt to move and take heavy steps.  It was very painful to do things like hurry up or down stairs, get in and out of my car, or really do anything that was not a smooth motion.  Oatmeal placed Poppyseed in my lap one evening and it felt like he had punched me in the belly.  That worried me very much, and to be completely honest, still somewhat worries me.  My body went through through the actual miscarriage for about 9-10 days, and thankfully most of those symptoms have gone away.  But I still can’t jog or jump without feeling a jolt on the left side of my belly.  I keep wondering if there is something else going on other than just the miscarriage, but I’ve had 4 sonograms and my doctor cannot find anything amiss.  Since it improves every week I just keep hoping it will resolve itself!

Now I am just looking forward.  I am really excited, and somewhat anxious, about our next opportunity to have a baby.  I keep reading my fertility book and have even begun charting my temperature each morning.  It will be interesting to see how long it takes before I become fertile again, and I will feel much better when that happens.  Of course I’ll feel even better when I get that positive test again and deliver a happy, healthy baby #2.  That is what we are praying for, but you never know what’s in store.

So, all in all, I’m feeling much better.  I had a lot of friends and family to support me.  I couldn’t believe how many women in my life had been through this scenario.  That’s actually why I wanted to share this experience on my blog – it’s SO common, yet no one likes to talk about it!  It can be lonely.

And here’s some blunt honesty for you – while Oatmeal was as supportive as he knew how to be, he really didn’t get it.  And honestly, I never expected him to.  I actually talked to him less than I talked to my friends on this one.  It’s very comforting to confide in someone who shares this experience, so my friends and family who had been through a miscarriage made me feel much better.  Oatmeal has never felt a baby kick in his belly at 17 weeks pregnant, nor has he experienced the feeling of loss that happens when you find out your body has lost a pregnancy.  And that’s not his fault. Rather than talk about it all the time, I decided to just let it rest.  It was just better for me, and probably for us, to handle it that way.  I did ask him once, “Honey, does it ever make you sad?”  He paused for a moment and just said, “Yes.  Sometimes.”  I’m not saying that I did not take comfort in him and feel that he supported – I absolutely did.  It was just a quiet kind of support.  The bottom line is that my husband is a man of faith and a man of optimism, and he always trusts that God is taking care of us.

He is.


Related posts:

About Lola

Leave a Reply