“fully erasing a future for which we no longer needed to plan”

With my D&C behind me (after a night of unmedicated miscarriage before it) I’m ready to move on. I was almost ready to call up the IVF doc we’ve selected, but wasn’t sure I could handle if they asked me for my last menstrual and I had to say, um, I had a D&C this morning, does that count?

It wasn’t ideal, but now it’s over. I didn’t feel a thing and I got to keep my neat plastic socks (my request to my husband while still clearly a little loopy from anesthesia).

I texted with a friend, a kindred spirit in this shithole they call infertility, letting her know it was finally over.

Her: I’m so sorry you had to go through this again. Can’t even imagine.

Me: Yeah, it’s… the worst and then each moment just passes and it’s done. It all seems insurmountable in the thick of it. Ready for the next seemingly insurmountable thing.

Her: You are a much stronger woman than I

Me: Ha. No. I asked S to smother me the other day. Half joking. There were people getting chemo and cancer treatment where I was today. Puts things in perspective. It all sucks and then it’s over and hopefully you can make it through…

giphy (1)

Getting a little introspective but it’s really how I feel. Every time I look at someone else’s situation and say I *literally* don’t know how they manage, I think it’s good to remember that we all have the capacity to manage but just getting through it.

I’d also like to share this story from Refinery 29. It’s good to see more stories about miscarriage out in the news. There’s never a comment that’s some dumbo saying, “Gee, I have never known anyone who miscarried. I thought it was only for unhealthy, criminal, sinners, or ‘career women'” or some nonsense. Somehow even the internet trolls have been quieted by this (though there’s plenty of *other* crazy in the comments so be warned).


eviction notice

Of course as soon as my D&C got scheduled for bright and early tomorrow morning… I started spotting a teeny tiny bit. I texted S that I would keep an eye on my underpants (complete with emojis)

Super creeps, I know.

(And yes, why isn’t there an underpants emoji? Is this something I’m missing out on with android vs. iPhone?)

I’m still going forward with it. Mainly for stupid, stubborn reasons. I already told my boss. It’s too late to cancel. I mean, sure, I’ll tell my doctor tomorrow morning if it turned into a Stephen King movie overnight, but for right now, I have a plan to follow. It’s a new plan, as the last one didn’t work for me (well, the last several didn’t work out) but it’s a plan and I will cling to it with my desperate, sad, infertile claws.


Update tomorrow, possibly heavily medicated!

congrats on your sac

Nothing has happened since taking the cytotec. Somehow, even less than the first dose. Were they sugar pills? I mean, honestly, is my uterus so impervious to reality that it won’t even truck with ulcer pills telling it to get a move on?

The joke last night was that I wouldn’t deliver my sac until September 21 (my original due date). So we started to think of all the thing we could do between now and then…

Go on a sac-moon

Have a sac shower and a sac reveal

Name the sac… Hacky… Ball… and my favorite, Goldman.

I mean, you have to laugh or you’ll cry. Okay, maybe you’ll still do both.

learning to eat shit

I’m on my third miscarriage. It is ungodly unfair. So I have a lot of feelings – about pregnancy, miscarriage, grief, the meaning of life. Hence the blog!I had a doctor’s appointment Thursday, where we confirmed that yes, my body just thinks it’s pregnant, but there is still no baby to be found, no heartbeat. And then after… a decision. I mean, I don’t want to give birth in September to a 40 week-old yolk sac so it seems like we’d have to do… something. I made the mistake of Googling the process for what happens when you take the pill (up the vagina!) to start the miscarriage. It all seemed all fine and good until a woman spoke of <excuse me while I gird my gag reflex> having a piece of the sac get stuck in her cervix and having her gyno husband use a speculum to get it out. My husband is an engineer, and he is a lovely person, but I don’t think either of us would be able to sleep at night after that. Ever again. Woof.

I mean, let’s be real, it’s all kind of a nightmare, so which is the option that I can forget sooner?
When we left the doctor, we asked for the Rx for the Cytotec (neat name!) just in case we wanted to DIY. They called around to see when they could get me in for a D&C (I asked for “surgical” option because for whatever reason, the idea of being awake for it really freaked me out).  Even though they could get me in on Monday for a D&C, on Friday afternoon I took a trip to our neighborhood Rite Aid and nodded patiently as they explained how to insert the pills into my vagina. I used to have an Nuvaring, NBD, amirite?
Deep breath, 1, 2, 3, 4 pills later I’m on the couch, catching up on this week’s Bachelor (I just knew I saved it for a special occasion). S comes home a few hours later, as the cramps are beginning and I take the first of my totally useless pain pills.Unfortunately nothing took the first time around. We went for a walk, I wore a hot water bottle like it was going out of style, and nada except for some really sexy gas.
In the morning I went for another walk, and we decided to look at some houses since I couldn’t take my second dose until 24 hours after the first. So 5, 6, 7, 8 pills later, I’m sitting with my ass in the air on the couch. If it doesn’t work this time, then I’m not sure what to do with myself. D&C and take more time off work, I guess. I’m just over feeling sad about this pregnancy, and ready to feel like I can make plans with my life again. I’ve known for 8 days now that there’s no baby. I had one blissful month of pregnancy, and it’s over, and the next time will feel extra shitty. Is it really asking too much that my miscarriage work?
Today S said that he prayed that I would just get a fucking break. I don’t believe in luck, but I do think a break from everything being so fucking hard might be nice.