The pleasure and the PAIN…

I haven’t talked or singed to you yet, I haven’t felt you kick or gotten huge (but I did pick out a name-of course I did-that is like one of my favorite parts, and I did picture you and planned for you…and I longed for you – we all did).

Again my heart breaks for women who are further along, who might have experienced all of these things. A miscarriage happens if the loss happens before 20 weeks of pregnancy but a loss after 12 weeks is very rare…

I research (mostly by fanatically googling) miscarriage at week ten, eleven…and twelve. Surprisingly and I would say shockingly there is not much information. Especially not from healthcare providers and medical professionals. There are a mostly anecdotal stories from some brave women (that frankly scare the s*it out of me). Had I not talked to my very candid doctor I would not have known what to expect at all…

I have had losses before, very early losses that were more like super heavy periods-somehow I thought this would be the same (especially since I already experienced my heavy bleed because of the internal hemorrhage-preventing us from taking that much needed family vacation…). Women usually experiences the loss early one, right after the positive pregnancy test or even before-not even knowing about the pregnancy OR the loss. In these cases it IS usually like a very heavy period and even if that is also incredibly sad-especially of course if they knew about the pregnancy-these cases are the most common of the “1 in 4” . I still feel at a loss for the lack of documentation of miscarriages in the later weeks of the first trimester.

The personal stories are sometimes horrific and they are all so so sad.

Again, I know I’m lucky in so many ways. Number one of course being having three incredible, amazing, wonderful and healthy children already. My mind goes to women who are trying for their first child, and women who are experiencing this over and over again…
How absolutely devastating…

This is not my first baby (or my second…) I am not further along…
I have amazing doctors and amazing support. I have knowledge and help and healthcare and resources.
I know in my gut that this is absolutely for the best, that something is wrong with the baby and that she wouldn’t have survived anyways (but my heart…)

When the bleeding starts up again, I do exactly as my doctor advices me to. I dump the kids on my husband and lock myself in our bedroom.

I read stories online and cry (okay maybe not the best plan but I tell myself it is “for information only”). I read these terrible stories, especially remembering one about a woman who miscarriages in the shower at 11 weeks describing the pain as unbearable and delivering what actually looked exactly like a tiny baby.

Here is the thing, I did not know miscarriage would look or feel anything like this…

My doctor explains that it feels just like the beginning stages of giving birth. To miscarry at this week in “the game” means contraction-like beginning to mid-stage contractions-and they will hurt. You just have to “power through”. She suggests curling up in bed, trying to get as “comfortable” as possible, riding through and breathing through the pain.

The other thing I was clueless about was what actually comes out of you. It is seriously awful and there is no way to prepare…

The blood I could deal with and even explain away. I mean as women, we bleed every month, and then when we give birth, and don’t get me started about afterwards…

Talking about afterwards (disgusting TMI- do not say I didn’t warn you..) you know the chunks that come out of you…yes, this happens during this stage of miscarriage as well…only this time it will be bigger chunks and clots and eventually the fetus and all that comes with it.

Best idea is not to focus on that and take a “nature gets rid of what is not meant to be” approach. There is not much that you can do other than hoping that God has a better plan in store (or whatever you believe).

I start bleeding heavily in bed, curled up with one of my favorite movies on TV. When I stand up the blood is trickling down my legs.
I cramp exactly like a contraction and limp crunched over to the bathroom. What comes out of me is truly crazy and huge compared to the clots. And then something smaller but very different. I really think that is the worst part and that it is the fetus and that I’m pretty much done.
Please stop reading now if you had enough!!!

I was asked to take pictures by the doctor (please don’t throw up…or think less of me), so I now know that was the placenta…and the sac…

The “fetus”, still tiny of course a not yet a “baby” of course (nature, nature, nature), looks completely different-feels different, is of different consistency and color (think grey…). It has the shape…you can totally see it-it is beyond heartbreaking…
I know I shouldn’t have looked…but it’s pretty much unavoidable…besides I was asked too…

The after clots and chunks keep coming for the next hours, then getting smaller and smaller over the last three days but the bleeding lasts for another two weeks…
There; TMI finished!

I make it back to bed with one of those giant diapers for old people inserted in my mesh underwear (I knew I would somehow need them again…) and catch the end part of the movie…

“My best friend’s wedding” will never be the same…
There, I ruined one of my favorite movies…
Julia Roberts is so beautiful in this one too and Cameron Diaz so young a fresh faced…
And who doesn’t love the music…

My husband texts me for updates…and I send him the pics (come on doesn’t he deserve to be part of this experience…he is saying he can never unsee that and is actually extremely emotional…in a way that I have never seen him before).

The next day he takes off of work as well and drives me to the hospital where they confirm for the first time that the fetus is gone, I am no longer pregnant and everything including the placenta has passed. This is apparently great news…and I did it all on my own and should be very “grateful”…

Now; see it’s like I was never pregnant in the first place…

A follow up with the option of couple’s counseling is scheduled in two weeks…

 

One of those weeks…

It’s been one of those weeks- you know the ones that push you closer and closer towards the metaphorical cliff of a complete mommy meltdown (psychotic break more like it). Full of blow out diapers AND toddler as well as preschool tantrums. Forgotten lunches and late mornings. Fighting siblings (“head butted” and bit lil battlers) and cancelled play dates. Runny noses and coughing kids, escaping dogs and extreme lack of sleep (for moi- what else is new?- I do try to make sure my kids get THEIR sleep). More shots as well as bad news at the doctors’ – which is really what is the worst about this week- about everything…

Our son keeps getting into trouble at school because of the elaborate “fart noises”, four teacher meetings, three different teachers just this week. We thought he was over the hilarity of the sound- until we figured out that he was copying the Gringe, who apparently was sticking his butt out making that very sound in the Christmas play we took him to (so much for culture, right!?).

And oh yes, almost forgot (not quite) I dropped my kid off at preschool without shoes- barefoot! It was 52 degrees (that is believe it or not actually VERY cold here…being from Sweden I cringe slightly at this) and drizzling (of course it was).
You would not believe the judgy eyes penetrating me as I walk him into the classroom. Well does anyone care that one of those blowout diapers happened at the same time as a preschooler’s tantrum, a forgotten lunch box (remembered at the last minute) AND being late (er than normal)…? No, probably not. So it happened and I do feel like I deserve that bad mommy award more than ever BUT I DID tell him to put shoes on- repeatedly- I swear AND I went right back home to get them (even IF my toddler slept both ways in the car forgoing her nap-and my sanity…).

Of course that very same morning I put my new cellphone (the one sent to me by the insurance company because my daughter very lovingly threw my old one on the tiled bathroom floor TWICE) on the hood of the car, in the midst of the leaky (through her clothes AND mine) diaper, the four year old tantrum, the forgotten lunch AND being late and drove off with it. Aha! Yes, sure did…

I’m way too embarrassed to disclose anything else…except my very last insurance claim allowed for the next TWO years sounded like…”cellular telephone thrown out of a fast moving vehicle”.

My son didn’t get to go to the playground that morning because his very very bad mommy had forgotten his shoes (even though said son is fully capable of putting his own shoes on- and does so every morning…excuse me, every morning EXCEPT this one), looking forlorn sitting inside on a chair waiting for me.

By the end of the school week he explains he is in so much trouble his “face” (meaning a picture of his face) is not only NOT on the board in the classroom, on its way of making it up on the “super kid” chart, but not even in the running anymore. He is actually upset about it and I’m hoping the inappropriate noises will go away (Gringe noises or not). As I pick him up on Friday there is another incident report saying another kid scratched and pinched him (it’s a scratch pinch mama!) because (get this) he wouldn’t stop his…DINOSAUR noises!!

My pregnancy is progressing and the baby looks so much like a baby even on that black and white screen now! I just wish with all my heart and soul that someone could tell me for sure that everything is okay with our baby. Hello (can you hear me?) I’m already half way there…still meaning I have to suffer the worry of another twenty weeks give or take (if this baby decides to be full term) if there is something…not right (I refuse to say- or think WRONG) with this baby kicking around inside my belly. Because if there IS something wrong it will be of the unavoidable, unfixable, permanent kind…

Honestly this week has been dragging along with the dull background pain of “not knowing”. The fog of uncertainty is getting to me more than anything. All I can do though is believe…and pray and hope…and stay strong and positive. This is another layer I didn’t want this time around (who does?) but somehow I thought this pregnancy would be the easy one, like third is the charm or something…
Going into it with the preconcisting conditions of preeclampsia and premature rupture of membranes as well as strep B and reoccurring UTIs I knew it wasn’t going to be easy per say (but not that I would have all the complications of BOTH previous pregnancies present in this one) but at least I thought the problems and fears would be related to these issues…

BUT the odds are certainly in our favor and the risks extremely low (just not as low as we would have thought/imagined/expected/wanted/wished).

I round this week up with a disastrous Christmas party,getting locked out of my own bedroom by two very short little troublemakers and the unmistaken sound of sirens as I “run” a YELLOW light…

Not having the “bestest” day here…

So, I had kind of a crappy Friday-you know the kind of day where everything is going wrong, and by everything, I mean absolutely everything. It’s all relative I know and these were all minor things but since my mood didn’t work in my favor (with my monthly friend coming for a visit any day) it was all “hello temper and hi there tears…”

It’s started bright and early (not when I want to start the day by the way) with my babies fighting, me yelling, them laughing and then of course as predicted someone crying (besides me).

I could feel how high my frustration was and any attempt to tame my hormonal ups and downs didn’t seem to work this particular day. Even our dog didn’t behave (poor dog… well she did chew up a beloved dinosaur as well as threw up in the guest room). I got chewed out (now I know how the defenseless dinosaur must have felt) by everyone from my 4 year old to perfect strangers. The summer hired teenager at our pool and racquet club gave me attitude saying we couldn’t put the cost of ice cream on our membership tab and that we had to pay for guests despite our guest passes-that apparently needed to be updated (and a lot of other headaches including more paperwork, fees and the registration of our baby’s birth documented in order to get added to our membership…wait what??) and then she was hesitant to give her name to me (well, yeah), “why do you need to know?” was her exact response (heavens!)

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When we went to return an item at the store (since I can no longer try ANYTHING on with these kids in tow and have been physically banned from most fitting rooms around town- long story, I have to buy and try on everything at home- hence all the returns). I was stressing (in hindsight I shouldn’t have stopped by the mall) because I had an appointment at my old school. We barely had time for a snack before I needed to rush both kids across town to sign the paperwork which means I’m officially a University professor (hep!) and get the books for my classes. My little boy wants subway, there is a line, naturally the guy helping us questions every “instruction” I give him, “yes, just cheese” “JUST cheese”, “plain, yes, yep”, “that’s right no meat”, “correct no veggies”, “yes I’m sure he does not want it toasted”, “positive”…
And when what does my son do, eats it which results in applause and a little mommy “happy dance”. But then…

He throws it all up, over his newly showered (after the pool) body and clean dinosaur shirt as well as my purse (Louis) and skirt! Perfect!!! Of course we have absolutely no time to go home and change before my appointment. We barely make it to the restroom (for a quick clean up), we still smell and we are late.

Baby is screaming her head off for milk I don’t have and refuses to go in her stroller while my boy wants another sandwich…well you get the picture… (If not you are either incredibly lucky or very very childless).

There is absolutely zero parking by the school (per usual) and when we finally get a spot we have to hike up a hill and an additional five blocks to reach it. With baby in the carrier (not a happy camper, trying desperately to pull my shirt down as I’m walking, and sweating…did anyone say cardio?) and a curious 4-year old in hand pretending he is a dinosaur (noises and all-they were apparently VERY loud, at least this particularly one).

You are not going to believe this; when we finally arrive (only a few minutes late I might add), the person I’m supposed to be meeting with is in another meeting. A meeting as in “the whole University’s staff meeting”. They are in a big conference room, we can see them through the glass doors. The guy at the front desk confuses me with a student (nothing wrong with that since I was one only a few years ago) but he is insisting that I pay for the books as I’m insisting I’m the professor trying to check the books out.

When he finally “believes” me (hey, do I not look like a University professor?!?) we are on to the next issue of it being 3:45 and I have two hungry and aggressive kiddo’s with me in the very small waiting room. Nop, nothing he can do sometimes these meetings go on forever…

After I clarify that my meeting was at 3:30 (and I have e-mails to prove it) he clarified that they close at exactly 4:00 pm and then they need everybody out!

We step outside, mainly so I can breathe and call my husband “where ARE you?” These kids need to not be with me right now (the feeling is mutual, I promise) and we are all in a bad mood as well as in a bad need of a shower/bath. Just as I’m starting to loose hope, my husband shows! Man, am I lucky to see him! But before he takes the baby she has time to (in a rebellious protesting move) squirt the entire content of a baby food pouch out all over the front side of my shirt (what a nice compliment to my vomit stained skirt).

I feel slightly “naked” and suddenly vulnerable without the baby carrier and my two kids. I run to the restroom to at least get some paper towels before I turn to run back into the school waiting room…

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