Every Day Is Different

Every day people ask me how I’m doing.  When I can tell that they really mean to ask “how are you doing?” I tell them:  “Each day is different.”  Actually, each moment is different.  I can be going about my daily routine and completely get caught off guard.

Today my only child wanted “up” for “snuggles.”  “I can’t pick you up right now, baby,” I explained.  “How come???”  And I told her that when the baby went to see God that it hurt my belly.  Then, feeling her soft baby(ish) skin against me I was overcome with sadness.  “Mommy, are you crying?  Do you miss the baby?  Mommy, you miss the baby just like I miss the baby.”  I picked up my 40-pound toddler even though I’m not supposed to do so, and she dried my tears with her shirt.  Ugh, when a 3-year-old is consoling a 35-year-old . . . pretty sad.

Monday was my first day back at work.  I had seen a psychologist the Wednesday before.  He thought it was incredibly poor form for the OB to have suggested that I would go back to work 2 days after a curretage procedure for a third-time miscarriage.  Indeed, I felt incredibly guilty but relieved not to be at work the rest of last week.  I went to a student recital on Tuesday night, and I could hardly take the sadness, concern, and sympathy in my students’ and colleagues’ eyes.

This past Monday I was more or less ready to be back at work.  Tuesday I was already feeling tired and overwhelmed.  Today was awful.  I taught 6 voice lessons and a theory class and didn’t have time during my lunch break for lunch.  I got home and my husband had to leave, so I was left to figure out dinner and put our daughter to bed.

I am not winning any mother of the year awards.  I found a pizza in the freezer.  My daughter is watching Noggin’ while I type.  My husband should be done with his stuff in 5 minutes, but I need to put her to bed before he gets home.  I dread night time still.  Night time means sleep which means that the next day sneaks up on me.  It’s been 2 weeks since I first became aware of problems with my pregnancy.  How can that be?  How has nearly 2 weeks passed since the ultrasound that revealed my dead baby???

I’ve slept some since then.  I’ve drunk some since then.  I’ve taken zanax since then.

Every day is different.  Perhaps that is what gives me the strength to keep waking up “tomorrow.”  No, that’s not it – it’s knowing that my little family depends on me.  Right now there’s not much more that gets me to “tomorrow,” but maybe that’s ok. 

Miscarriage Complete

My miscarriage began early yesterday morning.  I stayed on the bathroom floor for quite some time as ventures to the bathroom left me weak and faint.  The “nearly passed out” state wasn’t as bad this time as it was with my last miscarriage which was caused by a subchorionic hematoma.

By about 7:30am I realized that I had lost enough blood to be concerned.  At 9:00am I called the OB who managed my last miscarriage.  She was the on-call doc for the group over the weekend.  She told me that I needed to get to the ER, and by 9:30am we were there – me, DH, and DD.

DD already knew that we had lost the baby.  I told her that the baby was with God now.  DD (3y2m old) offered to drive the car to God’s house, get the baby back, and put it in my tummy again.  She was upset about the baby and concerned about Mommy.  Some of the little things she has said are both heart-breaking and funny.

I brought a bag with the “materials of conception” in them.  I kind of wish I had kept them and buried them this time.  Later she said that testing the pregnancy remnants is not particularly helpful.  Well, that was my experience last time.  Perhaps we’ll buy a little garden figurine as a memorial.  I feel a great need to bury these last three pregnancies.  I don’t know what lies ahead for us in terms of future children.

The OB recommended an aspiration & curretage to remove any remaining materials in my uterus.  Normally I think it’s best to allow things to progress naturally, but I agreed to it.  Dilation was not needed, so I didn’t have to worry so much about damage to the cervix.  She told me that there was a slight risk of damage to surrounding organs and a chance of puncturing the uterus.  She said that normally uterine punctures will self heal.

I will say that it is “nice” to not be bleeding profusely like I was yesterday.  I couldn’t keep up with the blood.  It is “nice” to have pain medication.  Wish it helped me feel more tired and numb.  I’m not in a place where being this cognizant is helpful.

After monitoring in recovery, I was sent upstairs to a regular hospital room.  I had a very sweet and compassionate nurse.  (Actually, all of the nurses who worked with me were terrific – in the ER, in the OR, recovery, and general hospital.)  From my new room I had a great view of the mountains and the clouds rolling over them.  I didn’t get any sleep, but I was comfortable.  I had a much better hospital experience this time than last time.  Last time I was at the ER I vowed to never go back there unless I was dying or dead.  It goes to show that it’s all quite dependent on the staff you get.

Today is a lazy day thus far.  It’s 9am and we three are in bed.  DD and I played “Dress Chica” and another PBS Sprout game, and now she’s watching Thomas the Train.  DH never has trouble sleeping and going back to sleep, so he’s snoring away next to me.

We have to get prepared for my mom’s visit.  She’s coming out Tuesday.  I guess she feels the need to “help.”  I’m not supposed to lift anything over 5lbs or do housework until I see the OB in two weeks.  I’ll have to call the OB tomorrow and clarify that.  I can see why lifting my 40-lb toddler would be bad, but not even being able to push a vacuum or sweep the floor?  I have mixed feelings about Mom’s visit.  She’ll probably be in full hover-mother mode, and she’ll want to call the shots.  I feel bad for DH who will bear the brunt of it.

The OB said I could probably go back to work on Monday, but DH thinks I should spend one more day at home.  My Monday students have gotten screwed enough already this semester, but I don’t really have much desire to face work quite yet.  Don’t know what Mom will do when we all have to get back to our regular schedules. 

I want to thank everyone who has e-mailed me and posted on my blog in the last couple of days.  Each note makes me cry which I know is a good thing.  I need to let out some of this grief, and your thoughtfulness has really touched me.  Thank you from the depths of my broken soul.