Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Well, This is Getting Redundant

So, yeah. That pregnancy I was so excited about in my last post? Turns out, not so much.

If you read this blog, chances are you heard this news on Twitter or Facebook when it happened last week. Because of that I was almost tempted to just skip writing about it. Everybody knows. Let's just move on. And yet, here I am.

I think we're fine. Chris is performing his usual role of making sure I'm taken care of, perhaps in the process ignoring his own pain. We talk about it a little. We're both angry. We're both sad. I'm worried about being able to have another baby. Chris either isn't worried or is pretending not to be for my sake. I try not to dwell on all the energy we put into this pregnancy. All the fear, the worry, the bleeding, the countless trips to the doctor, to urgent care, even the ER. If I think of the time, energy, money, and especially all the hope we put into this pregnancy I start to feel sorry for myself. And I get whiny. And, I suppose it's okay to whine about something like this for a little while, but I need to do what I didn't do last time. I need to move on. I need to heal.

I knew it was careless to try and get pregnant so quickly after the last miscarriage. I knew not giving ourselves time to properly grieve before we were right back where we started would be immeasurably hard. But, I also didn't really think I would have two miscarriages in a row. I arrogantly assumed the miscarriage had been a fluke, and even though I knew it was POSSIBLE to lose this pregnancy, too, I have to admit, I didn't think it was probable.

When I went to urgent care a week ago with some spotting, I hoped the outcome would be the same as all the other trips to a doctor, post-bleeding. It wasn't. She couldn't find a heartbeat, but told me her machine was really sub-standard. It had a low resolution and didn't always pick up the heartbeat. She told me to see my doctor the next day. My doctor wasn't available. But, guess who was! If you guessed "The Really Horrible Doctor from Last Time Who Shouldn't Be Allowed Anywhere Near Pregnant Women" you are correct!

Now, I will say this about him: after careful examination, I don't think he is TRYING to be horrible. I think he's just been doing this way too long and maybe needs some updated sensitivity training. Or to retire. But that doesn't make it any less traumatic when, after trying in vain to locate the heartbeat (and, bless him, he TRIED) he squints hard while looking into the monitor and says, "I don't think this baby is alive!" And then says it about four more times. He also said something to the effect of "Don't shoot the messenger." Many of you will be pleased to know I have decided to file a complaint.

So, what's next? Well, my doctor is ordering a test to be done in a few weeks which will determine whether or not I have a blood-clotting disorder that could be causing miscarriages. My progesterone was on the low side this time, so I'm sure we will be monitoring that the next time I find myself pregnant. Basically, the plan is to work with my doctor this time in planning and achieving a healthy pregnancy when my body has healed, rather than sneaking behind her back and trying to get knocked up in a few weeks.

I don't know if my body not being properly healed from the last miscarriage had anything to do with this one. And, really, it doesn't matter. What matters to me most this time is that I give us all time to heal emotionally. I think my family needs and deserves some time to enjoy our wonderful lives without countless trips to the doctor and a ton of anxiety. we might find ourselves there again someday, but right now I want to play with my daughter without worrying if I missed a phone call from a doctor. I want to have some conversations with my husband that don't begin with him asking me how much I've been spotting lately. I want to go to my sister's wedding next month and dance and drink champagne without silently panicking about my boobs not feeling sore enough or not having enough nausea.

I want to thank everyone for all the support. I know this has been exhausting for those of us living it, but also for those of you who have rejoiced and mourned with us twice now in such a short period of time. I promise not to put you through this again. For a few months, at least...


  1. I just wish I could give you all a big hug. I know you, and Chris & Charlotte, will be ok, but I hope you grieve and heal ok too. And we'll be here for you to do that, and to celebrate when the time comes.

    Also, yes, complain about that doctor. Or I may come up there and throat punch him. Geez, insensitive doesn't even cover it.

  2. Yes, I am very glad that you are filing a complaint, and I have to say that I find your not assuming he's merely an evil bastard to be a sign of your continued maturity. Well done, you.

    I have complete faith that you will have another baby, and whatever needs to be done, will. I love you all.

  3. That doctor sounds like such a twat, dude. Can I complain about him, too?

    Next time I see you (and, sadly, I have no idea of when that will be) I am going to give you a giant hug. Or maybe some kind of giant pastry. Or both!!

    You know I <3 you guys, so if you ever need anything, let me know :)

  4. I'm happy you decided to file a complaint, but sorry you had to go through dealing with him again.

    You know I'm here for you. Always wishing you the best, and keeping you, C & C in my thoughts.

    Xoxoxoxoxo x 100000.

  5. I'm so sad, and so sorry you have to go through this again.

    The doctor is a shithead, plain and simple. And really, saying anything other than "I'm so sorry" isn't appropriate.

    Is there another practice you can go to? Maybe a midwife practice? I'm thinking that, when you're pregnant again, it might be easier on you if you are working with professionals who see you as a human, not just a client. They might also be more affordable, or more willing to see you on short notice outside of an ER setting.

    But in the meantime: go to the wedding, rest, heal, mourn, talk, and take care of yourself. Lots of love to you guys.

  6. So very sorry for your loss. And thank you for sharing your story - everyone's here for you.

  7. I don't know this pain. If I did, I would spout all kinds of stuff, but I don't.

    Just know that whatever you feel is alright. Whenever you're ready to move on, it's alright. As much or as little as you want to talk about it, or if you want to avoid it, it's alright. We can all help with that.

    Oh look, I can spout all kinds of stuff anyway.

    Hugs. That is all.

  8. Thank you, everyone. It is such a comfort to have such an incredible support system.

    @Perpetua- I will look into the midwife thing. I always assumed I couldn't afford it. But, my insurance kind of blows, and I've been spending way too much in copays as it is, so that might actually be more reasonable than I had thought.