I was in a bad place this morning. I had a bad night of bleeding the night before and I lost what seemed like a lot of blood. About 3 hours of soaking pads every 20-30 minutes until it finally let up around 1 am. I called my doctor’s answering service after the first hour and the only practitioner in their office I hadn’t met yet called me back. She gave me the warning signs for when to come back in to the ER and some things I could do to help it ease up. I finally let myself go to sleep when I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to bleed out (AKA when I didn’t care about how many times I should get up to change my pad – I’ve long since given up on not making a mess on my clothes or sheets or bed. It’s like a crimescene in our room). Suffice it to say I didn’t get a lot of rest last night.
In the morning the doctor’s office called my house to tell me they’d called a prescription in and Nate picked it up for me when he went in to work for an hour (he’s been here with me the whole time, and I know he just wants to get back to normal, so I’m so grateful. I don’t know how I’d do this without him). But I knew before he left that I was feeling sick. I was achy and my throat was sore and my ears were rushing like I was about to pass out. I chalked it up to being dehydrated from bleeding so much for so long the night before. But eventually I decided to take my temperature, and it was above the level they warned me at the ER so I called the office and they had me come in. I met with the doctor I’d spoken with the night before and she did an ultrasound. She agreed that it was probably — or at least possibly — just a cold I could have caught in the ER waiting room that was causing my fever, but combined with the fact that there was still tissue in my uterus, she thought it would be safer if I had a D&C and just clean it out and be done with it.
I was not prepared to do that consciously and opted for general anesthesia. I get that they probably thought I was being unreasonable and childish for not being able to cope (not that they let on in any way, but just because it’s the kind of thing I’d think about my own patients on a bad day). But I don’t fucking care. I was not going to do that and have to be awake for it. So maybe this post is a bit foggy or disorganized, but that was only a few hours ago. I can’t be left alone or make any financial decisions for a while, so my night is a clean slate now. I might as well blog my feeeeelings, right?
I’m not sure if it was the antibiotics or the procedure itself, if it was a physical change or just a mental one, but I feel so much better now that it’s out and the light is at the end of the tunnel. I know I’ll still be bleeding for a few more days at the very least, but I don’t have to deal with thoughts like, “What if there’s a lot left in there to go?”. If this is just a cold I’m coming down with, at least I’ll be better equipped to deal with it.
It’s a lot easier to think about the good things again, and not get all stupid face about the hard things. Obviously I’m sad about the hard things, but I can’t think about them right now. I need to think about going to Brewfest in August. I need to think about training for Tough Mountain and my first Crossfit competition. I need to think about planning an awesome wedding and I need to be thankful that I don’t have to work on that awful baby registry anymore. I hated that chore! And I hated being tired all the time! And hungry! I hated not fitting into my jeans anymore, not because of baby but because I couldn’t say no to doughnuts. I hated not feeling like my body was my own anymore, I felt like a woman possessed. Or at least infected. I had a parasite making me hate the healthful foods I’d grown to tolerate in the last year and crave the ones I finally gave up. My friend craved beer and cigarettes her entire pregnancy. I was lucky, at least my poisons were socially acceptable. But I hated the feeling I’d get when I’d give in to them.
I loved the idea of being pregnant, before I got pregnant. Then once I was, I felt trapped. I said for so long that that was what I wanted, and then I felt like I shouldn’t complain when it wasn’t everything I imagined it would be. Not that I didn’t complain, but I wondered if people thought worse of me for doing it. Or if they were laughing at me for wanting it so bad in the first place. Or just annoyed with me for being such a whiner or probably acting like I was the first woman alive to ever get pregnant.
I feel like I’m so much better prepared for my next pregnancy. I’ll be better at being pregnant next time. I’ll be better at managing a miscarriage next time. I’ll be better at being a mother when it’s time. I’ll be better.
I’m going to be sad for a while, and it’s going to hit me at the most inopportune times, but I’m going to be okay. I feel like I have a clarity that I couldn’t have this morning. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s my womb talking to me again. But I just hope I can hang on to this peace for a while longer. I asked my doctor if I could just have one day without feeling emotionally or physically hurting, even if it meant having a few more bad days in the long run. She chuckled and said she would if she could, but I feel like somehow, she did. I’d like to thank her for at least giving me this evening.
But I’m going to try not to analyze it too much. I’m going to be grateful that I’m okay tonight, and I’m going to savor it, hoping that it sticks around but prepared for if it doesn’t.
I couldn’t have done this by myself. I couldn’t have coped without my words. I’m grateful for the physical help I’ve gotten from my flesh friends and family, but I’m also so so grateful to my social media friends for sharing their stories with me and encouraging me to say what I needed to say. I wouldn’t have the strength I have if I’d been trying to process these emotions alone.