Or rather, I am currently in the process of becoming un-pregnant.
I want to say thank you for all the wonderful support. This community is surely an oasis in a sometimes very harsh world.
The u/s technician was the same woman I had when I was diagnosed with PCOS a few years ago. Back then she was very chatty. We used to talk about a small town we had both lived in for a few years and about her boyfriend going back to school. This time she was so quiet I could barely hear her questions. She looked as though she just found out her dog died. Somber I suppose.
She took several pictures of my uterus and ovaries. No fetal pole, no yolk sac, no gestational sac. Just a very thick lining, lots of fluid, and some bits and pieces that maybe used to be something but aren’t anymore.
I got dressed and went to another room to wait for my doctor. When she came in she was incredibly upset. She was so excited when I was in two weeks ago with the good news. She is an OB who also does infertility diagnosis and consultations. I have been seeing her for years. She knows the score. She just kept looking down at her hands and repeating how sorry she was.
She sent me to the lab for the beginning of a series of repeat betas to make sure the HCG is dropping properly. The staff was so morose I felt like I needed to comfort them.
It’s OK. I expected this. I am not surprised. The sun will come out tomorrow….. But instead I remained tight lipped and nodded. They either do not see many miscarriages at their clinic or they are the most genuine people in the world. I was treated as though I were on the cusp of an emotional meltdown, but in a nice way. They were probably concerned by how chipper I sounded. I couldn’t help it. Everyone seemed so sad, so I automatically went into lighten-the-mood-with-false-brightness mode. I’m sure it looked pretty fake. I’m sure they were thinking Look out, she’s about to lose it….
I canceled my Tuesday u/s appointment and agreed to come back Monday for more blood work.
I spent the rest of the day with my mother and sister. I didn’t get a chance to even speak to Mr.JAC until after 6pm.
This whole thing has been very surreal for Mr.JAC. As a man, he is so far removed from the physical reality of pregnancy and miscarriage. He apparently didn’t realize the pain and bleeding were as serious as they were. Perhaps because he is often my rock of positivity. When he realized it was over, he sort of just shut down for a few minutes. He clenched his jaw and I felt the invisible wall go up. But only briefly. We spent the rest of the evening acting normal, but subdued. Late last night, in bed he put his arm around me. “Don’t worry. If we try hard enough, someday we’ll have our…….” makes a joke about having a child the exact opposite of us.
If we try hard enough.
We DID try. For several years. We grew tired. We stopped trying. Or rather we stopped talking much about it and stopped seeing an RE.
Adjustment. Half acceptance. Consideration.
Two pink lines. Confirmation. Blood. Pain. Gone.
A ghost. Did it really happen?
I feel sad that I don’t have an end date. As in, I don’t know what day it was really over, if it ever actually began. I don’t know why I feel such a great need to define and label something that was barely a blip in this world. Perhaps because it was not just a blip to me. It was something oh so much bigger.
And now in the grainy aftermath, I don’t know what to do or how to feel. I tried to have a big cry, but couldn’t do it. I can feel the big cry hovering at the surface, but it won’t come. I hope it comes sooner rather than later. I don’t need a humiliating sob fest to bubble up at an inopportune moment. I feel awkward enough as it is.
So here I sit sucking down painkillers and coffee. These being my consolation prize. Thanks for playing, better luck next time. Please try again.
Always a runner up at best…..
And the prize is another D&C after bleeding for three months.