THE MISCARRIAGE THAT REFUSES TO END
🌷When I came to terms with the fact that I was pregnant and actively miscarrying last week, I thought that would be the worst part of that experience. It was not ideal, it was a total shock, but I didn't think I could even get pregnant, so I assumed processing the loss would be relatively minor compared to the medical trauma and the 19 week miscarraige I had years ago.
I was so wrong. I was given two sets of medications. The first, an oral pill. I waited to feel something, but I had no reaction. The second, four pills that I had to stick up my vagina 24 hours after the first. I was told there could be "some cramping". I was not prepared for the pain I experienced. My parents were helping with Evie, as Phil was out of town, and I thought I would be able to "finish this miscarriage" with dignity and in private. I could not have been more wrong. I should have known the experience was going to be a disaster from the start - my nails were too long and the pills kept falling in the toilet. I had to use a mirror to confirm they were in me. It was utterly humiliating. An hour later, I thought I was literally going to die. The pain was unlike anything I have ever experienced. I was physically getting sick over and over. I had cold sweats, was convulsing and shaking from the pain, and it felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing me in the abdomen for 2 hours straight, with no relief. When the pain finally subsided, I was so dizzy and lightheaded, I could barely walk, much less think straight. Then the bleeding started, and it didn't end. Thank goodness for my parents. I knew Evie and I were in the best hands. They took care of both o f us. This was Saturday.
Because I have no sick of vacation time accrued (because I used it for my "non-maternity/maternity leave,") I had to go to work all week. The experience was already emotionally exhausting, but there has not been a single moment where I have been able to just recover. I feel like this massive thing is happening to me, my body, and yet, there is the constant pressure to just "be ok."
As the week drew on, I was hopeful (with all the bleeding) my follow-up ultrasound would show a clear uterus, and I could resume life pre-miscarriage. The uterine gods were not on my side. My sweet, kind, doctor let me know that the miscarriage was not passing the way we all hoped, and surgery was our best option.
Great.
So my week ended with a hysteroscopy and D&C to remove the remaining tissue. It's almost comical how comfortable I have gotten with uterine surgeries. I knew exactly what to expect. I knew how I would feel, react, and recover. And frankly, the recovery (and surgery itself) was a million times less painful that the vaginal pills.
The whole experience is a mindfuck. Here I am, back to questioning my fertility. Wondering if it was my body that lost this pregnancy, or if it was an embryo thing. Could I carry in the future (and grieving, once again, that the answer is no)? Needing to talk about this, but not knowing how. Feeling alone. Being at odds with my husband, because, despite him being an amazing husband and father, he will never understand the trauma my body has gone through, and continues to go through. He will never understand what it is like to constantly have to replay and relive the past 3 years, trying to explain to doctors about my complicated obstetrical past. He will never understand how, now, everytime I get up off any chair, I turn around to look for blood. How do I explain, that yes, I am grateful for our beautiful daughter, and if she wasn't here, this experience would be infinitely worse....but I'm still struggling here. I can be grateful for our daughter, and struggling with this experience. I can be happy for friends who get to decide when they get pregnant and how many children they want to have, and also be so sad that that our family's future and dynamic will never be so easy and carefree. I think about how, now this is part of my story, part of what I will share with Evie.
It's all so much to process, and I find myself getting so angry. I want to scream about the unfairness of it all. I want people to feel what I feel, for just a moment, so I could talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I walk in a literal emotional landmine every day, and all I want is a freaking break from it. 🌷
