When I realized I was pregnant the first time, I peed on a stick and immediately got joy drunk and stupid on Baby B*jorns and maternity clothes. Which is just one of the many reasons my 1st miscarriage was so completely devastating.
It was so devastating that I kinda gave up on my body for the last 6 months. I was sooo angry, especially with my body. I mean, really, why the hell should I do anything nice for my body if it's gonna thank me by failing to stay pregnant???? The anger just got worse as it seemed to take longer and longer for me to get pregnant again.
I think what made everything so very hard was that I had no answers. I went to the doctor and was told:
-that my pregnancy was over
-that I didn't do anything to cause it but
-that there was no way to really know why it happened and
-that there was nothing that could have been done to fix/stop it
-that miscarriages are VERY common in 1st pregnancies
-that having one miscarriage doesn't mean you will have another
So I took my lack of answers and I went home and booked a first-class ticket to Crazytown, Population: 1. And for 6 months I proceeded to analyze and pick apart everything that I could have possibly done to cause the miscarriage. Once I had thought of every single ridiculous possibility I beat myself up mercilessly for each and every one.
Fast forward from January to June -- after 6 mos of being laser focused on doing everything "right" to get pregnant again, and failing to do so, I was ready to take a break. I was so ready to take a break that in June I stopped all my charting/fertility tracking effort..... no taking temps, no checking mucus (sorry TMI), no ovulation predictor strips --- nothing.
I was also ready to start feeling good again. I had recommitted to start working out again and start giving a shit what I ate (for me, not for the purpose of getting preggo) beginning July 1st, right after TOM was over -- you know, just to make sure I was absolutely NOT pregnant.
I had no reason to believe that I might be preggo (well, other than the fact that Hubs and I had done The Dance w/ No Pants). I mean, really, I had been trying so hard with no success -- what would make this month any different???
Of course, June came and went with TOM nowhere to be found. So I dig into my trusty stash of EPTs, get my pee on --- and I'm pregnant!!!
I was paralyzed with anxiety and fear. So much for my big plans to recommit to exercise -- I was too damn scared. I was too damn scared to do ANYTHING except sit on my couch and eat carbs.
*Side note: Both of my 5 minute long "pregnancies" included overnight water retention/weight gain of 10lbs. This is a whole different sort of anxiety for me but we'll save that for another post.
I kept telling myself that everything was gonna be okay. Just because I had one miscarriage didn't mean I would have two. The universe wouldn't do this to me again.
I called the OB/GYN's office and explained that I was *kinda* going a little insane and if they made me wait till 9 weeks to come in for a check that I would most likely be in a straightjacket by then. So they graciously indulged me -- as a matter of fact, they brought me in once a week for the next 3 weeks. Checking my HCG levels and doing ultrasounds to confirm if the pregnancy was progressing -- and it was, with every appointment I felt a little bit better and little bit more foolish for being so anxious.
That is until, I hit 7 weeks, exactly. Just like the last time, just like clockwork --- the tidal wave of bleeding began. I had 2 more days until my next Dr.s appointment so I just waited. For 2 days my emotions ranged from ridiculous optimism that this was something else entirely not a miscarriage to total depression that this was happening AGAIN!!!
After 2 days of emotional volleyball it was time for my Dr.'s appointment -- the most significant appointment so far. At this point, there should have been a very clearly visible baby type creature occupying my uterus --- but alas, there was not. Just a big empty sac -- worst fears confirmed, miscarriage #2 in progress.
Cue the total meltdown. Unlike MC #1 in which I was so stunned that I didn't lose my shit until several days later, I went into a total red-faced, puffy eyed, snot river, non-verbal, ugly cry (right in the middle of the clinic waiting room, no less).
After meeting with the Dr. I was scheduled for a D&C the next day (due to concerns about a possible ectopic pregnancy). I spent the whole of Saturday laying in the hospital (without having had anything to eat since 12am the previous night) waiting to have a procedure that took barely 30 minutes -- lemme say this hospital trip wasn't nearly as fun and exciting as my last one aka when I got my Lapband. By the time I was released, I was tired, hungry and more just a little depressed. All I wanted was a hot fudge milkshake from S*nic ---- the 32oz milkshake to be exact.
|Not my actual milkshake, just for visual reference|
That concludes the 1st part of this saga. I feel the need to apologize for how long and convoluted it is, but that's the way it has been in real life. Stayed tuned to the thrilling conclusion........