After getting back from Kauai, I was spotting pink and brown for a few days. I felt fine, I went to work, Dr. T had advised me that light spotting was okay so long as it didn't get heavy like a real period.
On the fourth day of spotting, it got a little heavier, but still not heavy-heavy. I called the doctor anyway, and talked with the medical assistant, L. L reassured me that it was normal, and to monitor it until our next appointment. But, of course, to call if anything changed.
That night (Tuesday), it turned to fresh, red blood. I called a few friends asking for prayers, knowing that I could make it through the night and call the doctor in the morning, because it still wasn't heavy.
Wednesday morning, it was back to brown, a safer color, and much lighter. I called the doctor's office once it opened, and told L about the red blood. She said, "you know, it's probably nothing, but let's bring you in anyway, and see if we can pinpoint where it's coming from. How about 11:20?"
So, I advise my work team that they're bringing me in last-minute, but I'll probably come back after the appointment. I let them know that I'll call my boss if anything changes.
Right before the appointment, it turns back to red blood. "At least they'll know I'm not faking it," I think to myself.
It's an external ultrasound they have set up for me, and we haven't done one of these yet. So it's pretty exciting. Dr. T has trouble getting a picture because, "it's too deep in the pelvis." So they switch to internal. I think this is weird, because Homer should not be as deep in the pelvis by now. I'm wearing pants with the stretch panel, for pity's sake.
Internal wand -- hello! -- and the picture comes up of a tiny Homer. Too tiny. Way too tiny. And no fists of fury, and no fluttery heartbeat. "Well, it's not good," says Dr. T.
But I can see that.
So a small and fierce Homer passed fairly soon after our last ultrasound, and my body was just starting to figure out how to deal with it.
I re-dressed and was given some options of what to do next. I could let the fetus pass on it's own, which comes with risks of hemorrhaging, or having it not pass all the way (esp. because I was further along), and also comes with an unpredictable timeline. I could take the medical option (pills), which again comes with risks of it not passing all the way or hemorrhaging. Lastly, I could use the surgical option, a D & C.
I told them I'd likely pick the the D & C, but I wanted to go over it with a few people before I scheduled it. I told them I'd call back after lunch.
I came home and finally cried. I called my Godmother on the other side of the pond, and talked to her and her wife, who had miscarried a few times, so knew what I was up against. They agreed with me that the surgical option was better because I could control the timeline and the results a little better; it was far less likely to be traumatic. I don't need traumatic memories of this time.
I called Thuper Thpermth, I called my Dad & Mom, I called the Syringe-Wielding Goddess, I called my boss. I texted and emailed a few more people, building up my support team as I knew I was going to need them soon, and in a big way.
After lunch (a little after 1pm), I called the Doctor's office. Dr. T had been pulled out on rounds, so wasn't there to schedule my surgery, so they said they'd call me back in a bit. That's fine. I'm not going anywhere.
In the meantime, I have a snack (waffles and peanut butter), check my Facebook, send emails, watch a movie, rest in my cozy bed. I'm starting to get crampy and uncomfortable, so I'm pretty sure my body is even more clued in as to what it needs to do with this fetus. The blood isn't heavy, but I'm not feeling so great, and I take my temperature. 99.5° -- not super fevery, but not normal, either. I rest, and hope they can schedule for Thursday instead of Friday.
Around 3pm, the Doctor's office calls me back. They apologize for the delay, but how about 7:30am Friday morning? I said, "that's fine, but I'm worried about the next 24 hours. Cramps are picking up and I've got a smidge of a fever." Then things get exciting. "Let me call you back."
Within minutes, things are getting rescheduled. They know they have to pick this up. Dr. T is calling the hospital, things are getting shuffled around. And it's L who calls me back. "Yeah, so, can you come into the hospital right now?"
"Right now, right now? I need to get a friend to come with me, so that could take an hour or so to round them up?"
"No, come without a friend and have them meet you here. Stop eating or drinking as of now. Right now. Do you live close?"
"I live about a mile away."
"Good. Come on over."
So I actually wait. I call up Zi and Thuper Thpermth, and they can both join me. Thuper Thpermth cancels plans and picks me up and drives me over; Zi meets us there after blowing off work and stopping at the grocery store for some treats.
It didn't really matter that I waited, because we waited for a long time. It was about 4pm when we arrived, and I didn't get taken back till around 5:30pm, and didn't have surgery till around 7:30pm. While waiting, Zi and TT play cards with me and we laugh and joke as much as we can. Humor is totally my coping mechanism, but I'm also still slightly in shock.
The nurses are awesome. The anesthesiologist is awesome. And, of course, my OB is awesome.
The surgery is fast, like 15-20 minutes. I'm in recovery for a little while; the nurses talk with me and remind me that I'm going to be a very good mom when kids finally do end up in my lap. They bring me a little something to drink since I'm not nauseous, and I sip slowly. When they wheel me back to my room, they ask if I'd like to eat something.
"Chicken noodle soup, and if cheese & crackers showed up, I wouldn't be upset."
Zi and TT were there with me in my room, and we talked some more, and they ate dinner while I had my snack (and some Morphine). At one point, the nurses helped me up so I could walk to the bathroom to change my gown (which I had bled through) and the pad. Zi helped me with my bathroom duties. It has to be some defining moment of true friendship when you are together in a hospital restroom and your friend is gently wiping down your bloody thighs with wet washcloths.
After checking that my pain was controlled with Morphine, Percocet, and Ibuprofen, that I wasn't bleeding too heavily, that I could walk, that I could pee, that I could eat & drink... the nurses set me up to be discharged about 9 or 9:30pm. TT drove me home and set me up in bed with a movie while Zi was on pharmacy duty to go pick up my meds. When Zi returned, TT was off-duty, and Zi spent the night with me.
I've built myself a little nest on my sofa, and have been living here most of the time, watching whatever looks interesting on Netflix. I've had a few visitors each day, and a little bit of alone time, to process and cry. I've taken a few phone calls, but not many, although I am feeling the love of my support network. I even went on a little outing yesterday to brunch and then the Chinese Garden. But that was more than enough, really, and I napped through the afternoon. I still can't drive due to the painkillers, but my visitors have been lovely about bringing me casseroles, bread, chocolate, drinks and fresh fruit.
This is not the outcome that I wanted for this pregnancy, obviously, but here is what I am grateful for: I am grateful for every single one of my communities, the support that I have received from everyone has been perfectly amazing and exactly what I need, when I need it. I am grateful that I have a great job, with a great boss, and great health insurance, that I can get these things taken care of swiftly, safely, and without trauma or worry. Most of all, I am so grateful for my beautiful body. My body, despite a number of obstacles, was able to get pregnant, support that pregnancy for weeks and weeks, and when that pregnancy was no longer viable, she gave me clues to handle the loss. Body, you are wonderful. I have never felt so beautiful, I have never felt more strong and capable, I have never felt more loved.
