Back to Normal

Okay.  I'm back.  From where, you ask?  Here goes...

From the beginning, March was busy, but good.  Our undesired house guest (stomach virus) had been sent packing.  Jillian was kicking my butt on a regular basis and I was eating and sleeping better.  Tutoring was going well.  The kids were doing great.  The weather was improving.  Things were good.

Around the middle of the month, I started feeling exhausted-- got a cold and then couldn't shake a fever for a few days.  My parents came over to watch the kids so I could go to the local clinic.  On the drive over, I was doing the math.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7... Seven days late.  Could I be pregnant?  It took us months to get pregnant with Will and Liam.  I hadn't gone back on the pill, but we had been careful... kind of.  I pondered whether to ask for a test at the clinic or to buy one at the drugstore on the way home.  By the time I reached the clinic, I convinced myself there was no way I could be pregnant.  It was the change in my lifestyle- new diet and exercise routine... or maybe the fever/virus that I had been fighting lately.  Definitely no baby.

The nurse came in to take my vitals.  I gave her the info... cold, fever, new routine... oh and no period.  She handed me the cup.  I peed and waited. 

The doctor came in.  I gave him the same story as he checked my ears, eyes, throat and heart.  He leaned back on the counter, told me I had an upper respiratory infection and paused for what seemed like days.  Then he told me I was pregnant.  It was a little like the scene from Knocked Up-- except no Seth Rogen.  I started crying immediately-- the kind of crying where you don't want to cry, so you keep talking and ignoring the buckets of water pouring down your face.  We were discussing antibiotics and prescriptions when he asked me if I had any children.  I replied 'yes', telling him I had a 3 1/2 year-old and a 7-month old.  Then he made this sound: "Ooooohhhhhhh...."  In my head, the translation was: 'You are so screwed'.  And then I started bawling.  He must have thought more carefully about his initial response, thinking it would make me feel better by telling me that 'the test was only 99% accurate'.  

I drove around for a while, wallowing in self-pity and selfishness.  I would get huge again.  There would be heartburn, gas pain, back aches and swollen ankles.  There would be no roller coasters, water slides, trampolines or rollerblading-- all things I was looking forward to doing with Will this summer.  I wouldn't be able to go back to work in the Fall of 2010 as planned.  My non-pregnancy clothes would be packed away for another summer.  I would have two kids under the age of two next November. I stressed about Will adjusting to another baby and Liam getting so little 1-on-1 time next year. With Bill's coaching schedule, I would be home by myself most of the time. How would I ever get out of my house?  How would I survive? 

My funk continued for the next week or so.  I made a conscious decision not to blog, Facebook, email or even return friends' phone calls until I was feeling better-- mentally and physically.  

By April, things were turning around.  I was finding the positives in my situation.  The kids would be close in age, so they would be able to play together.  All the baby clothes and toys were set up and ready to go.  Will adjusted well to Liam, why not another baby?  Liam would be walking by November and probably using a cup-- he'd be much more independent.  Taking a few more years off from work would be okay-- I could still tutor.  I was making a mental checklist-- we'd pack up the things in the den to make way for a nursery, Will would move to a booster and that would free up a carseat, we'd need another crib.  I started to picture life at home with three little kids.  It would be difficult at times, but it was doable.  We would make it work.  I thought to myself, that a few years from now, I would feel so stupid about my initial reaction that day in the doctors office.

Fast forward to my 8-week sonogram.  I had the last appointment of the evening.  Bill had coaching, so I was by myself.  I watched as women in their first trimester left the office with their little black and white tadpole photos.  Then it was my turn and I was excited to get my first glimpse.  I laid on the table and the technician positioned the monitor so that we could both see.  As she swept the transducer over my belly and found my uterus, I could tell instantly that there was no baby.  She told me that my uterus was measuring almost seven weeks and she confirmed that there was nothing there.  She suggested that I had my dates wrong.  Maybe I was only 6-weeks and the baby was not yet detectable.  The last doctor had left for the evening, so the technician instructed me to call the office in the morning.  I knew that I had the dates right and something was wrong.

After some blood work, it was a confirmed miscarriage.  Medically, this is what happened. (You can click the link.)  There was no bleeding or cramping.  No indication of any problems. My OB told me that my body would complete the miscarriage naturally and on it's own-- or I could opt for surgery and get a D&C.  Who would opt for surgery, I wondered.  She said it would happen within two weeks, as my hormone levels decreased.   So I waited.

While I waited, I was feeling sad and disappointed... and a little relieved... and then massively guilty for feeling that way.  I thought about my initial reaction to the news of the pregnancy and really hated myself for all of it.  And I waited.

About a week and a half later, after watching some late night tv on the couch, I stood up to head upstairs to bed.  There was an incredible rush of blood and a surge of cramping.  After three hours of intense pain and a bathroom that could have doubled for a crime scene, we were headed to the ER.  Then, after some serious pain meds, three internal exams and two more ultrasounds, I was headed home the next day, exhausted and thinking I should have opted for the surgery.  Figures.

It's almost a week later and I'm slowly but surely getting back to normal.  

Looking forward and glad to be back.