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In Conclusion, Miscarriage #2

July 26, 2009

The spotting got darker so Jack urged me to go the ER. At the ER the bleeding got a little more, and then as I went to change my pad, it came out of me. They kept saying it looks like blood clots, not a fetus or placenta. But I knew. They checked the uterus: empty. My cervix strangely appears closed though it must have opened enough to let out my baby. Four hours and three pinpricks later, I’m home. I’m surprised at how I feel: calm, peaceful almost. I think the pain and torture of this week has drained me of all emotion. Yes you’re pregnant. No you’re not. Yes! No. Yes! And now today, the final affirmative no. I don’t know what the future holds. At the moment I can’t imagine that I’ll ever get to call myself a mother. I can’t imagine getting pregnant again and I can’t imagine waiting for the inevitable miscarriage. The steps I have set out for myself now are 1) have a final chat with my OB-GYN 2) Try to get genetic testing on the fetus 3) See an RE. As much as I like my OB, she is in the business of more than just infertility and pregnancy loss. I need someone who lives and breathes this. It’s worth every cent if this won’t happen again.

The nurses and the techs were very nice. They all said wait 3-6 months before trying again. One told me she had two miscarriages before her four babies. One told me she had . . . wait for it . . . fifteen miscarriages before her three year old daughter. She said she never gave up hope. I ponder the word hope right now. Right now I feel neither hope, nor despair. I’m a constant thinker, I guess its the writer in me, but right now, I can think of nothing. Just the sound of the water running. My fingers tapping on the keyboard. The air conditioner rumbling in the distance. The pain in my uterus as I cramp and bleed between my legs.

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13 comments

  1. Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry. I was so hoping for the best for you this time. What a terrible ending to such a roller coaster of a week. This is so unfair. I am glad to hear that you’re seeking an RE, but I hate that it’s the result of more pain.


  2. Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry and sad for you and your husband. Take extra special care of each other’s hearts in during this tough time. Hugs.


  3. I had such high hopes after you saw the heartbeat this week. I was so sure that some fluky thing at your lab caused some screw up with your hcg. I’m so sorry I was wrong.

    You’ve compared this whole situation to a roller coaster ride, and I couldn;t agree with you more. Just know that we’re all here for you for all the ups and all the downs and hopefully we can make this ride a little less scary for you.


  4. God I am so sorry– and please know the feeling I have is so much bigger than that–“sorry” does not cut it. It does not even come close.
    I feel as if you’ve been in free fall this week, a crazy looping ride though all the incredible emotions of sadness and hope and miracles and wonder and fear.

    I cannot imagine going though what you’ve gone through this week.

    They say to wait to heal emotionally mostly. The first big wave of grief passes by then as you know, but “healing”? not sure a lifetime is long enough.

    You, Kate, are incredibly strong. You may not care right now, and you may not feel it always, or even sometimes, but you really are. Your plan to see an RE is a great one. It is self protective and pro-active and I hope you find someone who suits you well.

    In the crazy way that sometimes happens, your comment on my blog came through as being from, and led me to a beautiful blog I had never been to before.
    But I knew it was you–
    I am so so sorry.

    warmly,
    Kate


  5. this is just terrible, you have been through so much, i am so very sorry. i am glad you have decided to see an re, an re can do more extensive testing to see if there might be something else going on, plus they specialize in people like us. i am really sorry, i just feel awful fo you.


  6. I am so sorry. Words are so meaningless and I wish I had something better to offer. You – and Jack – have been through absolute hell and it is not fair and it is horrible.

    I am so, so sorry.


  7. i’m so sorry kate…and just as others have said already, words aren’t enough. thinking of you daily…lil


  8. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you and wishing you a bit of peace. I am so very sorry.


  9. I’m so sorry, Kate, that you and Jack have to deal with this. I wish our collective hope for you could affect what has happened this week. Please take care of yourself. And if there is anything a blogger can do to tangibly help in any way, please let me know. Seriously- if you have no food in the house and don’t have the energy to go buy some, I could at least send you a pizza or something. And I’m not kidding.


  10. Sweetest Kate,

    I just walked in the door from our internetless weekend away and the first thing I did was check your blog.

    I’m stricken with sorrow for you & Jack, my friend. Words are inadequate right now…I just want you to know that I am so very sorry and that I love you very much.

    Love,
    Baraka


  11. I’m so sorry, I had so hoped that this was not going to end in miscarriage…Send good thoughts your way…


  12. I am so sorry; just so very sad right now. What a rollercoaster you have been on. I am heartbroken and wish that I could find the words that would somehow make things better. But I cant. 😦

    You are a mother… As hard as it is right now, dont let that slip you by. Your babies arent in your womb or your arms, but they were here and they chose you as their mom. It’s not a lot to hold onto at times, but it is something to remember them by.

    Sending hugs.


  13. Oh, sweetie, I am just getting caught up and I am so sorry to see this news. I am just heartsick for you.

    I do think that, when you’re ready, going to see an RE might help. It is a whole different ballgame to be under the care of someone who has seen it all, and is used to treating patients who have already encountered a huge amount of pain just getting to the point of being in their office. And when they give you hope, it’s hope actually backed up by facts, and not just “I know someone who….” anecdotes, which, while nice, don’t really mean much.

    Anyway, I am thinking of you and hoping that you get through these next few days and hopefully to a more peaceful place.



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