home and empty

First, I need to thank all of you who have kept us in your thoughts and prayers, who have reached out by leaving me a comment, or by calling, or sending me emails. I want to thank Rebecca and Jess who posted about our situation and sent many of their readers over to my blog, and who also left very supportive comments. Thank you to all old and new readers who left a comment of support. I thank Misfit, Bunny, Adele, Roccie, Pumpkin, and LisainSK who reached out by email. It was really helpful to talk with Misfit and Adele about the m/c options and help make up my mind. I thank Oat who posted an update yesterday in the comments section when blogger was being uncooperative, and for her immense support now and always. I also thank all my beloved IRL friends who read this blog and grieve with us at this time. As much as grief is trying to occupy 100% of the space in my heart, gratitude cannot help but grow in there at the same time. I am not sure how I would have gotten through the last 48 hours without all of you.

After several earlier phone calls with my doctor on Wednesday, we talked in the evening about what options were available for evacuating the pregnancy (doesn't that sound horrible). She told me that the u/s report showed that little owlet stopped growing at 9w0d. It had already been three weeks. In retrospect, I see that the decrease in nausea wasn't coincidental, but in fact a sign that things were not going as they should. She gave me the option of taking misoprostol at home for 2 consecutive days, bleeding out over the weekend, and having an u/s on Monday to see whether everything was gone. Let me say that this option never appealed to me. It sounded protracted and emotionally draining. The other option, a D&C under general anesthetic, is the one I chose. I told my doc at 9:30 am yesterday morning that it was my preferred option, and by 10:30 am, she called back to say that my surgery was at 3:30 pm that day. My doctor has had a stillbirth (and thankfully, 2 other successful pregnancies which resulted in beautiful boys), and she said that the doctor who took care of her during the stillbirth was the one who would be operating on me. She said she was lovely.

We arrived at the hospital with heavy hearts. I was looking forward to visiting that hospital in December for the birth, but instead we were going in to put an end to this pregnancy. The person who registered me at arrival was pregnant. It felt a little cruel, dear Universe, but I quickly decided it wasn't personal. I got registered and admitted quickly. The nursing staff was exceptionally kind. We were there at 1:30pm, but my surgery didn't happen until 4:15 pm. We had a visit from our doctor in that wait, who was indeed lovely. She came in and right away shared her sympathy for our grief. I guess my doc had told her our story, and I was glad for it. She felt that it was a very good sign that my body had taken on the pregnancy and that we should try again.

The procedure was quick, I think. It's good to be asleep for these things, if you ask me. I am so glad we made the decision to go with the D&C. I woke up in the recovery room, not sure if it had happened. When the nurse told me it was done, I started to sob. "I'm not pregnant anymore". But that didn't last too long. There was some physical pain to contend with, some morphine to be administered. I was finally wheeled back to the day surgery area at 6:35, where I was reunited with Mr. A. I was ready to go back earlier, but they had brought an elderly lady to the recovery who was in very rough shape. Both nurses were tending to her. I felt so bad for the elderly lady. I could hear the nurses and the doctor talk and she clearly was palliative with what sounded like lung cancer. It was another hour and a half before they let me go home. I got to drink and eat some cookies. Again, the nurse was extraordinarily kind. She was giving me hugs by the time I left. We got home a bit after 8 pm.

It feels steadying to have events to describe. Somehow, I feel like the worst is yet to come. I know how to be in survival mode. I've had a lot of practice at that. But when it's time to go back to work, and start thinking about thriving again, I fear I won't be adequate. I fear the dark grips of depression wanting to close in on me once again. How many more years of depression? How many?

For now, we are just regrouping. I had a pretty bad sleep. I was up from 3 am to 6 am. My body was confused with the lack of eating from yesterday, and was ready to eat again. So I spent those hours reading, eating a bagel, and sitting outside for 45 minutes listening to the birds in the early morning.

Today, a few of our dear friends have stopped by to offer us their love and support. It feels good to have so many loving friends around us, in real life and in cyber space.  

Thank you. I can't say it enough. Thank you, dear friends.