In which I explain some very personal things in an attempt to open the lines of communication about miscarriage during October, which is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
For those of you who don't know, Matthew and I have sadly experienced our second miscarriage today. Last October, at exactly the same progression through the pregnancy (10 weeks), we suffered the loss of our first baby. It was completely unexpected and devastating as these things usually are. At our first routine OB appointment, we learned that our baby had stopped growing 4 weeks before and had no heartbeat. It was such a difficult season for us, and it took many months (for Arwynn especially) to comprehend and grieve the loss of our child and feel that we were ready to try again.
This time, we'd had a perfect ultrasound 2 weeks ago where we'd heard the blessed angelic hummingbird heartbeat of our second baby. After some concerning symptoms this weekend, I called my doctor's office yesterday morning, and they were kind enough to fit me in for an ultrasound first thing. Unfortunately, the news was like a repeated nightmare. Our baby had stopped growing a week before and had no heartbeat.
We were devastated by the news; both of us had thought that we would be getting nothing but reassurance from this appointment. The midwife and doctor that I saw yesterday were both wonderful and agree that it is sadly probably just normal human reproduction, since as many as 1 in every 2-3 pregnancies do not make it past the first trimester. Because I'm already 31, the doctor will be happy to work me up now (instead of waiting for the traditional 3rd loss) for any preventable or treatable causes of miscarriage. Conceiving is not a problem, which is a happy and encouraging thing to know.
Because I'd had complications last year requiring an ER visit, we decided that the best thing for all of us was to have a procedure today to make sure that I didn't have those complications again. (I would be happy to discuss this procedure personally with anyone who needs or wants more information. Having been through both options, I have a definite personal and professional opinion on the matter.) My doctor was kind enough to schedule this procedure for 7:30 this morning in an attempt to complete it as soon as possible. The rest of this blog post is an attempt to find humor in a very un-funny day. In no way do I take lightly what has happened, but some of these things were just too funny to keep to myself. And it's my way of starting to cope with my grief, so please allow me that without judgment. :)
Monday night, 2230 hours. Arwynn: "I must shower and shave my legs tonight because I am NOT going under general anesthesia for the first time in 26 years and having anyone notice my hairy legs!" Matthew: "Oh, wife. I just love you."
Tuesday morning, 0555 hours. The scene: a dark parking lot where we are in one of 2 cars parked. Arwynn is wearing an uber-hot outfit of baggy shirt, baggy pajama pants, & flip flops. Her hair is French-braided and limited makeup is applied in an effort to maintain her dewy youthful complexion. Stunna shades are on despite the dark. Arwynn: "Do I look like a movie star?" Matthew: "Yes of course." Arwynn: "Ha! Maybe only one headed to rehab." Matthew: "Well I wasn't going to SAY Lindsay Lohan..." **eyeroll, still the best husband ever.
Tuesday morning, approximately 0715 hours. Pre-op holding. Arwynn: "Dr. Anesthesiologist, I'm very, very sensitive to drugs, so please don't give me very high doses." Dr. A: "OK sure, no problem. Preop Nurse, please give this patient Versed 2 mg." **for all non-medical personnel, this is NOT a small dose!!** Arwynn to Preop Nurse: "Please only give me 1 mg of that. I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I've never had that drug before, and I'd really rather start low and go up if I need to." So I receive 1 mg of Versed, a happy relaxing drug. When I get to the operating room, Dr. A says, "So I hear you only got 1 mg of Versed." I say, "Yes, and I definitely feel relaxed." Dr. A: "So you don't want the other milligram?" Arwynn: "No, thank you." Dr. A: "Ok, I've given you the really good stuff now in your IV." Arwynn: "Ok yes, I feel that. The Michael Jackson stuff, huh? I feel good! Nananana." And, scene, as I forget everything for the next 45 minutes.
Tuesday morning, approximately 0815 hours. Recovery Room. Arwynn to Postop RN: "Um I think I'm bleeding." Postop RN: "Yes, sweetie, that is to be expected." **eyeroll from Arwynn to herself at not making a superstar nurse first impression.**
Tuesday morning, 0845 hours. Text message from my Mommy: "When do you get to be discharged?" Arwynn: "By my own criteria, I would discharge myself. I've walked, been to the restroom, eaten, and drank. But probably I have to wait x number of minutes after the last medication." Mommy: "Lol."
Tuesday morning, 1045 hours. Arwynn: "I'm not going to take any prescription pain medicine. I don't think I need it." **Reads package insert of methergine, a medication the doctor wants me to take every 4 hours for 6 doses.** "Causes increased strength and rate of uterine contraction, and stiffening of uterine walls." Arwynn: "Yeah, so I'm just going to go ahead and wash this down with half of a Lortab." (prescription pain medicine) Matthew laughs at my attempted stubbornness.
Tuesday evening, 1815 hours. My reminder goes off to take my medicines. I look around my area of the couch. Don't see them. Get up and look in the pill drawer, thinking Matthew got overzealous with his (much appreciated) decluttering task. Ask Matthew if he's seen them. He says, "No, but you gave me the bag they came in to throw away." He goes to the garage to dig in the trash (again, best husband award) and brings in my medicines, saying "You put your empty yogurt cup and a dead inkpen in this bag and threw it away." Arwynn: "What? I did? I had no idea!" Figure that one out, friends... Subconscious wanted to be done with them, I suppose!
Well that's what I've got for now. I'm sure the feelings and emotions will change and progress, but we will get through it together. Thank you, immensely, to our village of family, true friends, and my medical providers who are doing amazing work.
My husband, for his undying love and affection for me, in my ugly cry and ugly attitude moments, in my clinginess and my distance. I love you. More.
My parents have been unconditional in their support, being there when I need to talk or be reassured. Listening to me ramble and joke and sharing their true feelings with me as we all heal from our disappointment. Thank you for raising me to be a strong woman who will walk through this sadness with a man who loves me for who I am.
My sister, for being my firstbestfriend, for loving me in a way that no one else can, and for bringing her outstanding self & my sweet cuddly adorable niece down here this weekend to be with me.
Matthew's parents, for grieving with us and for their continued love, support and prayers.
Ashley, for listening to me, making me laugh, being my ultimate un-judgy friend, and for being my babysitter and keeping me company while Matthew goes to a work conference that he shouldn't miss.
Rebecca & Adam for the many prayers, delicious meal, love and support, and listening ears.
Jay & Lindsay for being our first Florida friends, and walking through this with us twice, offering anything we might need.
Our church friends, for the prayers, support, listening, and offers for anything we need.
All our other friends and family for their phone calls and text messages letting us know that they're thinking of us. We truly appreciate you. And we can't wait to share happy news when we have it of our rainbow baby, however God chooses to send it to us. :)
