Well, I was thinking tonight, as I laid in bed, that it might be a good idea to do some writing.
Just got home from a week and a half vacation at Houghton Lake. Coming home after vacation has that refreshing, glad-to-be-home feel to it. But today that feeling, that deep breath was filled with the realities of life.
*all the housework that I need to do, should do. The places that have seemed to collect more dust than ever as I haven't been home.
*all the unpacking I need to do, should do. The things I've had with me on vacation that nearly had a new home because we were gone so long. Things that fall right back into place when we come home.
*the extra worries I have day to day when I'm home. Is Leala happy? Am I providing her with enough learning opportunities? What will we have for dinner tonight? I need to lose weight. I need to have a better schedule. How can I get into a better schedule. Preschool. Super stressed about preschool. And affording preschool. And what about that laundry? And groceries. How are we going to eat healthy if we don't have any healthy food? Can we afford groceries right now? Tomorrow is payday. Payday. Extra money this payday should go to... extra money? Right.
*and then I go into my downstairs bathroom. Normal thing. Just gotta go. And then the recent realities come crashing down.
I had an early miscarriage a few weeks ago. Paid for a whole round of IVF. Egg retrieval, meds, more meds, hormones, embryo transfer, the two week wait, pokes and more pokes, emotions, waiting, the home test, the blood test, the positive.
The positive. Sometimes that positive doesn't mean shit. Sometimes that positive turns into more heartbreak than a negative would have been.
Went to my first ultrasound at 5 weeks 5 days. I knew it was very early, probably too early to find a heartbeat. Doc found the embryo implanted, but no heartbeat yet, no worries.
Went to lunch with my folks a few days later and had to leave to go to the ER abruptly after discovering lots of fresh blood when I went to the bathroom. Waited in the ER lobby forever, what seemed like forever, finally had an inconclusive ultrasound, blood work, and sent home not knowing anything.
Had my next ultrasound at 6 weeks 5 days and discovered a super low heartbeat in the 30s. Sadness. Very sure this was not a viable pregnancy. Tears, hugs, some talking with the nurse. Sent home with a "wait and see".
Next ultrasound, we went prepared to have to make a decision about how to handle a miscarriage. But the heartbeat was up. Only up to 67, but up. Doc was sure this wouldn't end well but sent us out with a glimmer of hope. Left with a small bit of optimism.
Next ultrasound, (these are happening weekly or more than weekly) nothing. No heartbeat. Doc was right. Sadness at this point is there, has been for a few weeks. We were given 3 options. First, I could go home and wait for the passing to happen. Second, I could have a D&C. Third, take cytotec (opens the cervix), and then it should pass. I opted for the third, because I could do it on my chosen time, babysitter arranged, not alone, at home, and not surgery.
Vaginally inserted 800mg of cytotec, took pain meds, ate dinner and watched movies with my wife. Passed several clots, quite a bit of blood, some tears, and after about 12 hours it was over. Not too bad in the big picture of things.
Follow up a week later. Ultrasound to be sure everything passed. The entire, I don't even know how to say it, "baby"? "Embryo"? "Mass of tissue"? Everything was still there. Dead. All I could imagine was dead. Death. Not living. I still had death inside of me.
Again, I had 3 options. First, go home and wait. Second, D&C. Third, try cytotec again, same mg vaginally, but then 200mg orally every 6 hours for 24 hours. I, again, opted for cytotec. I did some googling to see what others have been through and decided on cytotec because of the potential for scarring with a D&C. I don't want more scarring than I already have as it can cause problems with implantation. I, again, make arrangements for a sitter, for my wife to be with me, food, good tv. Do the inserts, take pain meds. After some time, maybe an hour, I go to the bathroom, pad is soaked. Sitting on the toilet, blood is coming out of me so fast, it sounds as if I'm peeing. I start to panic a little, calm myself down, change the pad, go back to the couch. About 10 or 15 minutes later, go to the bathroom, pad is soaked, underwear soaked. Start feeling woozy. I open the door, call for manda and tell her that I don't think I'm ok. She calls 911, paramedics arrive, we talk, they talk, I'm calm again, and decide to stay home.
I should have gone with the paramedics.
Change pad and undies, get up, (I don't remember if I went to the couch again or not) but I remember sitting on my stairs by the bathroom because I thought I was about to pass out. Decide to go to ER, manda drives me.
Wait in the ER for 3 hours. Not even lying. 3 fucking hours. Bleeding. Cramping. Bleeding. Cramping. Finally go back, get into a room. Doc does a pelvic exam, removes a lot of tissue, and tells me that removing the tissue helped and the blood has slowed to a trickle. She leaves to contact my OB, and before she comes back, I have bled through the pads and bedding I was laying on. Nurse helps manda get things to clean me up, change the bedding. I am nearly passing out again, hearing is funny, lots of black spots and tunnel vision, and I look on the bed at what looks like a pile of red jello. Ew. My wife is a fucking trooper for living and standing through all of this. OB doc on call comes, happens to be the same doc that delivered Leala (when I tried to bleed to death the first time), and I have an emergency D&C and 2am.
I, or my body, managed to take a traumatizing thing, and make it even more traumatizing. So now, when i came home from vacation, felt that deep breath feeling, it was also filled with blood.
Blood and waiting and the ER and blood, and that awful almost passing out feeling and pelvic exams and pain and blood and the hospital and blood and pain.
And, believe it or not, that isn't the end of it. Next is recovery. Physically, I had to regain my blood supply, was sore for several days, had lost a lot of the physical abilities I was used to doing. Carrying loads of laundry, several times a day, up 2 flights of stairs, carrying Leala and rough housing with her, walking for long stretches was even a challenge. Emotionally, working on healing from this trauma, in my heart and mind. Allowing myself to grieve for what we have lost and the trauma we've been through. And, mentally, suffering from all of the hormone drops, depression, anxiety, trying to re-normalize my hormone levels as they send me from high to low, tired to insomniac, trying to decide if we want to do this again, knowing the risk, wanting another child, desperately wanting to give Leala a sibling.
Vacation was good for me. Had some downs, 3 headache days, 1 really low day, lots of sleeping. But it helped take me out of the reality. Helped me cut some of the tighter ties between home and what we suffered. Showed me a lot of love that family holds for me, for us, and how deeply sad they feel for us.
I'm really hoping to try to start new tomorrow. Try to think more positively, try to do more of the things I want to do. Try to not beat myself up every day for thinking or feeling a certain way. And I'm hoping my physical, emotional, and mental self will tag along.
I do believe we will be trying again within the next few months. Not sure when exactly. We have 4 frozen embryos yet, and they look like good ones according to the embryo "grading system".
And, after all of this nightmare is said and done, I think what hurt the most, the part that still makes me cry, is when I had to tell Leala that we weren't getting a baby yet. That there isn't a baby in mommy's tummy anymore. That the baby had to go to Heaven with papa Marty and Cookie Jo. Broke my heart. Broke her heart. And she's the baby we are so damn lucky to have.
