Pulling Into the Station and Taking a Rest

The roller coaster is over. Not in a good way, but it is over.

First, the reason we had gotten bad news on our beta is that Dread Pirate had a Buttercup. Yes, we had a twin in there. We didn't know it, Dr S didn't know, and we didn't find out til at the "yes we thought that it was dead" ultrasound last week we actually, for the first time in our lives, heard the heartbeat of our fetus. And saw the second, deflated sac. What a miracle. THat one survived.

Fast forward a week. I am getting ready to jump into the shower before flying to Chicago for work. I pee, then wipe - and voila, blood. J is already at work so I calmly call him. We agree I should call Dr S in case I shouldn't travel. I do. He doesn't call back.

I calmly (I have been so fucking CALM lately) get dressed, cancel my car service, ask J to find a later flight for me, and board a bus for the city. 45 minutes later J and I are in Dr S's office. After a coffee break at Starbucks we head back, an hour later, and see Dr K, who has the bedside manner of a Nazi. What an ass. Anyway he immediately hears the beautiful heartbeat, now at 135 bpm, and says that I have a subchorionic hemmorhage, or tear around the placenta/sac. He shows us (like we can read those things) that the sac is surrounded by blood, and while the baby is fine, I am potentially not due to the blood thinners I am on. No one seems to know what causes these, tho a vanishing twin Buttercup can cause it.

He mentions that my already sky-high m/c risk is now higher (how high the moon?) and that I need to go on bedrest til Thursday, when we have a regularly scheduled appt with Dr S and his u/s wand.

I cancel my business trip and head home. To sit. And work from home. For three days. I sleep, I eat, I pee, I work, and I google subchorionic hemmorhage until I have a PhD in phlebotomy. So far all the sites have good news. Nothing to worry about. I will carry to term. Tis just a flesh wound.

Quick aside - for those of you who know me. you know bedrest is akin to doing math for me. I hate it. But this time it was nice. I was calm, quiet (no music, no TV) and relaxed. I sat up on the couch,working, sleeping, googling. No muss, no fuss. I think I was relaxing!

Fast forward to Thursday. I had been feeling major pressure on my cervix, like my insides were going to burst out in a "here's Johnny! - The Shining" way. Other than that no more blood. Tons of symptoms, feeling crappy, sleeping 12 hours a night. Life is good.

We wait for a long time in the cold exam room and Dr S finally comes in. He puts the wand in, J watching over his shoulder. He waits and waits and finally i say "just say something". He says he will when he has something to say.

Finally he speaks.

No heartbeat.

We lost it.

Who knows what happened. Was it the hemmorage? A genetic abnormality? Did the lovenox not work?

Whatever the reason that was m/c #3 and we are packing it up.

I am going into surgery tomorrow to become unpregnant and we are getting genetic testing to see what the holy fuck is going on. Not that is really matters because for now this uterus is closed. You don't have to hit me over the head more than 3 times before I stop trying. I am strong, I am invincible, but I ain't an asshole. Obviously I am not meant to have children. So I will stop trying, at least for now. And if we ever stop preventing, I will not go to the doctor every week and I won't tell anyone and for god's SAKE I will continue to harden my heart. If it can get any harder. Look at how glib I am being now. But deep down I don't feel glib at all. I feel empty.

I was fine. I cried a bit with J, and got teary when talking to Dr S about my surgery. I told him we expected it and weren't surprised, tho we were hopeful. I asked what caused it and heard the beautiful words "Who knows". JEsus why do we pay you people????? Figure it out! We can put a man on the moon but not keep a baby in my uterus?

I really lost it at the hospital, alone, later, getting pre-D and C blood drawn. Michael Moore really knows his shit cause I was shuttled from one room to the next, as they were moving offices. Finally I get in a small cubie with a woman who is Fantasticking her chairs. She tries to log in, can't, tries again, and walks off. Never talks to me. I hear her complaining to her cubie neighbor that she is NOT going to switch offices cause she already CLEANED her desk.

I burst into tears and said to the next woman who walked by "for christ's sake I just had a miscarriage can someone please help me?". Man can those hospital workers move quickly when need be. I was in and out in two minutes. No one likes to hear those words.

The saddest part was right as we were getting called to come in to Dr S's exam room I saw another couple come out. I recognized a fellow miscarrier. She was crying, tears streaked her face, he was comforting her and looking miserable and uncomfortable. She had on comfortable clothes and you could just make out the smallest bump. I heard later she was further along than we were (8w3d) so I can't imagine. She probably had started to bond with it and buy baby clothes and look at the Pottery Barn Kids catalog instead of burn it in effigy like I do.

It was all I could do to stop myself from walking over and hugging her, long and hard, and crying with her. And at that point I had no idea we had lost it. I just knew they had, and I knew how it felt. J told me to stop staring but I wasn't staring - I was trying to will her my empathy across the room. I wonder if she felt it.

I also saw another couple I had seen in there before getting treatment, with that "we're newly pregnant and isn't the world beautiful?" look. Like on their second or third ultrasound before the fear kicks in. I wanted to get up and smack her in the fucking ovaries and tell her to harden her heart! Take it down a notch! Stop beaming - it may be gone already! You will end up curled in a ball, crying!! But I didn't. She will find out on her own, I fear.