Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

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I had a miscarriage today. Then because I was having a miscarriage, and was bleeding so heavily, I had to have a D&C, which is the same thing as an abortion, something I swore I'd never have again. It was all so sudden, painful and traumatic.

I was in so much pain last night, I couldn't sleep. The cramping was so intense, the only thing I could compare it to was when I was in labor. I would try so hard to find any position I could be comfortable in, and no matter what I did I just couldn't. The cats were very nice to me and acted concerned, they'd come up to my face and smell me and mew at me and I'd tell them I felt really sick, then they'd try to make me feel better by snuggling up against me. I kept crying and moaning and finally thought I should take some kind of pain medication or maybe get up and go to the emergency room. Then I thought, like I'd been thinking all month, that maybe this was all just the extreme hormonal side affects from having just gone on the pill, and maybe this was my body's way of ridding itself of these cysts, but I was in so much pain. I got up and bled all the way to the bathroom, where I grabbed a left over pain pill from the dentist, took it, then went back to lie down. Then probably because I didn't have any food in my stomach I suddenly felt nauseous and ran back to the bathroom to throw up. Then I ate a few crackers and went back to bed and slept until two o'clock this afternoon.

When I woke up I was in pain again, and when I sat up I realized I was bleeding really heavily, so I thought I'd better call my gynecologist, you know, just to ask her for the pain medication she had offered me about a month ago. Luckily I got right through and the nurse listened to me and told me to hold on. When she came back she sounded concerned and said, "Can you be here in an hour?" Then finally it hit me that I should have been more concerned and that I'd better get in there.

I did the best I could to clean myself up, as if a gynecologist would be freaked out by the sight of blood, man the things we think, you know? Anyway I grabbed handfuls of tampons and napkins and hoped I wouldn't bleed through everything and came here to make a few calls and do a tiny bit of business before I left. I stopped off at the Mailboxes, Etc., store, and said good-bye to my 5,000 debt to the vet we used to have, the one who is suing me in small claims court this Saturday. Then I stopped in next door to my friend's pet store and looked at the little orange tabby kittens and told my friends Ron and Young that I wasn't feeling very well and was on my way to the gynecologist. I think I may have called Scott, I don't remember, I was so non chalant about the whole thing.

When I got to my doctor's office I realized I'd totally soaked through the tampon again and was kind of shocked, so I tried to clean myself up again, and wadded a whole bunch of paper towels up against me, and just stood there hoping a room would be available soon. I was afraid to sit on their couches because I didn't want to stain them. When I came out of the bathroom I bumped into a beautiful pregnant woman and looked longingly at her pretty belly. Then I went into my room and answered a lot of questions and got up on the table.

My doctor came in after a bit and was all business, "Hi Jacqui, I can't chat at all, I'm in a huge rush, you're late and we squeezed you in, so what's been going on?" I told her about the cramping and the bleeding and how I just wanted something for the pain. She started to examine me, and I asked her if this was normal, and she said, "No Hon. We're going to try to figure out what all of this bleeding is about. I'd like to do an ultrasound but I just can't do it, so I'm going to send you to someone else, but I just want to get a look at you firs,t because I don't want you to wind up in the emergency room." I was so confused and stunned because I thought this was just a super heavy period that I was having, because I had been abnormal for so long because of the PCOS, and that my body was just trying to get me back on track. She said something to me about maybe doubling my birth control pills for a while and then she said, "Could you be pregnant? Have you had unprotected sex?" and I said, "Well, yes I guess we did, after you took out my IUD and before I started the birth control pills, but I thought I was infertile because of the cysts." Then she said, "I think you're having a miscarriage sweetie," and everything just happened so fast from there.

She started shouting orders to the nurses and I could hardly tell what was going on because I was lying on my back with my legs in those stirrups. She took out the ultrasound thing so I figured well, I guess I'm not going to go somewhere else for this after all. She put some kind of gel on it and then rolled a condom over that and then slid it up in me and we looked at this little screen. She showed me my uterus and said, "This is just a lot of tissue that shouldn't be here, and your body is trying to get rid of it. We need to just go ahead and suck all of this out, or you'll just keep bleeding like this and wind up in the hospital." So as soon as it became clear that I was about to have an abortion I started crying.

This seemed to upset them so they immediately wanted to put me on some kind of medication. "Karen do we have any Adivan? Where's that Adivan?" I told them that I didn't need any medication for my feelings, that these were normal feelings, and I wasn't going to freak out or lose control or anything. Then my doctor gave me two pills and a cup and said, "You should take these because you're about to have a shot in your cervix." Is it me or was this whole thing not exactly loving?

I think because she had already been rushed for some reason, and then squeezed me in, and I turned out to be this emergency situation, she just didn;t handle it all wiht the kind of grace and sweetness that she might otherwise have. I remember looking at her and saying, "I'm sorry. Where were you supposed to be?" and she just said, "It's okay, you're just gonna keep me on my toes." Maybe she had a baby to deliver or some scheduled surgery, who knows.

I'm grateful they didn't make me go somewhere else at least, and that I got it over with right there. I just would have liked a little more time to prepare myself, or to be a bit better informed. As it was, I was in complete shock, tears were pouring down my cheeks, and I just kept having to fire my questions at them in the midst of this flurry of preparation for this inevitable, inconvenient, unscheduled D&C. "Am I pregnant?" Yes, but you're losing it. "Am I having a miscarriage?" Yes. "Is this an abortion?" No, because your body is expelling this anyway. This is a D&C and will stop all of this bleeding. "Is this a fetus?" Well, it isn't formed in any way. "How pregnant am I?" About six weeks. "Is there any chance it could survive?" No Hon. "Could I help anyone by donating this tissue?" I don't know, no one's ever asked that question before. You're going to need someone to drive you home. Who can we call? "My boyfriend, please call my boyfriend!"

Then they were drawing my blood and sticking my finger and saying things like, "I need all of you in here. I'll need long spinal needles," and "I want this tissue sent out STAT. Tell them I want a call tonight," and "Here we go, this is going to pinch, and then it's going to burn." It definitely pinched and then it burned, each of the four times she pushed the needle into my cervix. Then the nurses held up these large pinchy looking metal forceps and asked her if she needed dilation and I was grateful to hear her say no, and then there was this suction machine, and the most unbelievable pain, and this kindly nurse said, "Do you need a hand?" and I was just so grateful someone would hold my hand, while I was so scared, and sad, and hurting so badly.

The cramping was unbelievable. So much worse that I remember it from when I was twenty-something, and it went on and on, this horrible, burning, cramping, pinching pain, that I truly didn't think I could stand. I mean I went through labor without any kind of pain medication at all, I had a Bradley birth, and this was definitely up there with that kind of pain. There was also the sound of this machine, and the suction, and the clogging of the suction, so I knew when things were coming out of me and going into there, which was awful.

Then after what seemed like such a long time, she was done with that, but then she had to scrape the sides of my uterus to make sure she got everything and that was worse and unbelievably more painful. She kept saying she was sorry, and that we were almost through, and then I'd feel this searing, painful, scrape-cramp thing, and I kept squeezing the Swedish nurse's hand and crying, and then finally it was over and they were cleaning me up.

I was completely shocked and overwhelmed and traumatized. It all happened so fast and it was just so much to deal with. I had so many thoughts and feelings, spiritually I knew that everything was fine, that things happen as they are meant to. This isn't a good time for us to have a child. I am not in great health. Scott doesn't want to have a child right now. We have some basic issues to work through, etc., etc. Nature was just taking care of me, but another part of me, a medicated but still feeling, part of me, wanted to call my Mother, wanted to grieve the loss of a tiny little child I didn't even know I was carrying. This little girl I've been wanting all of my life. Would she go away and come back again? Was she even here at all? When does the soul enter the fetus? These kinds of things.

The doctor and the nurses covered me up, and turned the lights off and left me in the room to recover. I kept thinking about babies and Scott and how much I needed him to be with me, and wondering why he wasn't here. every time I'd breathe or shift I'd feel a gush of blood, and every few minutes someone would come in and move me and change these sheets and pads underneath me.

I wondered what I would look like to Scott when he came in, would there be blood everywhere, would that be hard for him to see? I kept crying. I thought about how much I love Scott, how grateful I was that he was on his way. I thought about how glad I was that this was over and that now I could get better. I thought about how stupid I'd been to think we couldn't get pregnant because everyone told me that with PCOS I would have a really hard time getting pregnant again. My psychiatrist even said, "So Beau's a miracle baby?" Everyone I spoke to about my cysts would say, well I guess you're infertile, or how do you feel about being infertile? And I remember how mad I was at Scott for not being willing to take on responsibility for my not getting pregnant by offering to wear a condom, but when I was thinking that, I was thinking down the line, not now but later, when I would be able to get off the pill. I really didn't think I could get pregnant now, but I wanted to.

Scott came and was wonderful. I know it wasn't easy for him. This was his precious little time off and he still wasn't feeling well, but I also knew he should be there with me. He was so loving and kind. I was irritable and hurting and emotional. He held me and kissed me and kept me company, then helped me to the car. He got me a sandwich and something to drink because I hadn't eaten, and went to the pharmacy and got my prescriptions, (something to shrink my uterus, Vicodin for the pain, and a hard-core antibiotic), and three cute little Beanie Baby kitties.

Then we came home and he cuddled me, and kept me company, and we lay in bed and talked and played with the kitties and I called my Mom and cried some more. Noemi came up and made us some pasta. Beau came in and asked me what happened so I had to put it to him in a way that would be easy on his sensitive little spirit and he was so sweet about it. Then we watched Survivor and I was happy about the outcome but didn't like the whole helicopter to the studio over-dramatic ending thing. Then we turned it off and Scott read to me from my new book "The Dress Lodger."

You know as I sit here writing to you I'm aware that I'm grateful, it could have been worse, people go through things that are much worse, and I'm here at home and I'm okay. I'm not in any real pain now. Of course I'm seriously full of Vicodin, but I'm clear enough to be able to write, although we'll see what this looks like tomorrow. Well, thank God for Live Journal, and for all of you who make me write, because you read my stories and care. I'm fading...
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