At least on one level, the physical one, I feel like I am moving in the right direction. On Friday, I had the D&C. This was the first surgical procedure I’ve ever had (excluding minor skin cancer removal). I was on stand-by as an add-on, and finally about 2 o’clock, I got the call.
And honestly, it was a pretty non-descript process. Checked in, prepped for surgery, and after about an hour and a half, I was wheeled into the OR.
I felt somewhat emotionless – partly grateful this was ending soon and partly numb. My heart held steady – until my husband kissed me goodbye and they wheeled me away. Then, I started to tear up: frustrated and sad about this whole situation.
I remember looking around the OR and thinking, ‘What a disgustingly bleak room. So clinical. So sterile. Bleached white walls…purely utilitarian…they really should paint the walls a soothing color. And put on some relaxing background music. That would help. The room looks so horror-movie-esque…’
And that is the last thing I remember. The anesthesia came through my IV, and the next thing I knew, I was groggily waking up in the recovery room.
After some pound cake, ginger ale and my discharge papers, we were sent on our way. We ordered take-out from our favorite restaurant, and I was home by 6:30pm. It almost felt like any other Friday night. Almost – except for the fact that I just had the remnants of my baby scraped and sucked out.
Compared to the misoprostol, this was a dream. I know D&Cs have their risks and complications, but really? It was so much easier. You get prepped for surgery, you go to sleep – and then you wake up. You don’t see anything, you don’t physically feel anything…it is just taken care of.
I’ve been a little sore and crampy, but nothing a few ibuprofens don’t solve. I have to go a little easy physically, there’s been some period-like bleeding (very light, actually)…but comparatively speaking, very easy on my body. At least, so far.
I’m just getting over the traumatizing fear of being afraid every time I go to the bathroom – afraid that something else will ‘fall out.’
I have a follow-up appointment with my OB in two weeks, and I don’t see the fertility doctor until December 3rd.
Can I be honest?
I am a little glad.
I just want to feel normal for a little while – like I did before we were TTC. I want to go to the gym again and go back to my zumba class. I don’t want to have to think every time I eat and monitor everything that goes down my throat. I don’t want to count days until I ovulate, chart my peak fertility, time sex, and monitor every symptom, every dpo. I don’t want to deal with the stress of waiting to see if it is a BFN or a BFP.
I’m not ready for the emotional let-down of BFN, and I’m not ready to be on the emotional roller coaster that is sure to come with a BFP. I’m not ready to go through this again.
I just want a break. I want to blog about something else besides my miscarriage. I want to enjoy the holidays. I want to spend my last few weeks with my parents before they move without having this sad, stressful cloud shadowing over us.
Is that wrong?
Everything in me wants a baby, but this miscarriage? This one wore me out. Drained me. Deflated me.
It wasn’t like this the first time. This time, I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched.
I just don’t know if I am ready to try again right away.
Now, I know my body might not be quite ready – and that is one thing. But emotionally? I don’t know if I’m there yet. I’m sort of relieved that my next appointment isn’t for a few weeks.
It will be nice to have a few weeks with no doctor’s appointments. Without having to think about a ‘gameplan.’
For a few weeks, we can just ‘live.’
So the plan is – to have no plan.
I know I still have healing to do. I know I’m not ‘through’ this or done grieving or processing. Every day, a little more surfaces, and I’m working through it.
But I’m hopeful that the physical part of this miscarriage is resolved and slowly, I can go forward.
And for me – going forward means not going forward. For now.
[Photo Credit: Steven Worsethandetroit]