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.