Waiting. Forever waiting. Do any of you feel like you are always waiting for something? Sometimes being patient and anticipating something isn’t so bad. I love to have something fun to look forward to – a date with Thomn, vacation, a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert, hearing S’s giggle as she has discovered something new…my list could go on and on. Unfortunately, there seems to be more than enough unpleasant waiting as well.
I’ve already talked about the perils of waiting during the endless 5 minutes of a pregnancy test here, however, there are so many other levels of waiting. Only one of my miscarriages has happened on it’s own – a spontaneous miscarriage if you will. The time that I spent dreaming of my baby and waiting to meet her was short lived. Opposite of this, all of the other miscarriages were what they call missed miscarriages. They don’t start on their own and we find out during an early ultrasound when we are happily waiting to see that raspberry sized baby with a small flicker of a heartbeat. Our first miscarriage was the first time I heard the phrase missed miscarriage and it took me the longest time to wrap my head around it. How could the doctors be sure that it is what it was? There wasn’t any bleeding or pain or any indication that something was wrong, but with the absence of a heartbeat and repeated blood tests every few days there isn’t a point to wondering any more.
There are three main options when you have a missed miscarriage. You can go home and wait it out and let your body take care of everything in its own time, you can have surgery to have a D&C, or you can use pills vaginally that will start the process for you. I chose to wait it out. After Googling like crazy this seemed like the best option. I tend to live as much of a natural life as possible and this felt the most congruent with those ideals. So, I did what they suggested, took a day to process what was happening and went back to work. The first day back to work felt as though I spent the entire day in the bathroom…just waiting for a miscarriage to start. Four hours into my day and I was driving myself mad. This was waiting like I had never experienced before. How would I make it through the second half of the day? How would I make it through the full night trying to sleep? How could I potentially wait weeks to move pass this awful feeling and onto the next emotion?
In the end, I made it 8 days and opted to use the pills vaginally as I could not wait another moment in that state of limbo. I felt like a failure on so many levels that day. Not only was I ending my pregnancy, but I couldn’t even wait for it to happen on its own. Thomn and I both underestimated what that experience would be like. We talked in length with the doctor and listened when she told us what to expect, but I don’t know if we really could hear through the pain buzzing in our ears. It was recommended that we start the process in the evening as sometimes it can take up to 12-24 hours to even work. I went to the pharmacy that morning to pick up the pills and I remember the pain in my pharmacists eyes as she rang up my order. When she was done she came out around the counter and offered me a hug – it was one of the nicest and most genuine things someone has ever done for me. I stood there and cried, thinking of how easy it would have been for her to ring me up and walk away, instead she let me know that I wasn’t alone.
Nothing in me expected the pills to work quickly as there is a warning on the label that says the process can fail and require a second dose 24 hours later. I am one of those very lucky people that tend to have as many of the side effects happen as possible. But, at 1am that morning I woke up in the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced. I told Thomn I was positive that I was dying and that I hoped he had had a good life with me…I am never mistaken for being dramatic according to my husband. It turns out the medicine doesn’t just gently shed your uterine lining like a period, instead, it grabs you by the insides and forces you into contractions to mass exit your body. Laying in bed crying, I waited hours for the cramping to subside. As the cramping began to ease, just as the sun began to rise, the bleeding began. Do you know how they tell you after you have a baby that if you see anything bigger than a lime to make sure you go to the ER? For the next four hours, I lost blood clots the size of a small lime and really thought I was bleeding to death. I am fairly positive that I called my doctor 3 times that morning for reassurance that this is what was supposed to be happening. Kindly and gently she assured me that this is what was supposed to happen. I waited all day for the bleeding to slow and eventually stop, but without anything to look forward to on the other side. The bleeding finally turned to spotting and I felt empty. I was no longer pregnant and felt little hope of how to move on.
As you know by now we have found the strength to move passed this first miscarriage…another 6 times. Each time is a new and different experience than the previous one, but it hasn’t made the waiting any easier. 13 days after our last ultrasound with Lucky Number 7, I have convinced myself that tomorrow we will hear the words missed miscarriage and I will have three options to choose from. The pain that can accompany waiting can’t truly be described unless you yourself have felt it. I am a big anxious ball of nerves that is hoping for good news. I just have to wait one more day.
