Part 2 recap:
- Dr Pesavento is pretty amazing
- 'In My Life' is my theme song through hardship
- The physical reality and humility of miscarrying
- We decide I should have a D&C
I was relieved to finally be laying in a hospital bed, in throw-away underwear, waiting for the D&C. I was relieved knowing that at least the physical discomfort and humiliation would be over soon.
It was surreal as the hospital staff came in and went over everything with me. As they took my vitals and went through my medical history and described the anesthesia and procedure to me.
As they asked me what to do with the 'remains' they would remove from me.
When everyone left and my mom and Anthony and I were just waiting for them to take me in to surgery, Anthony came and laid in the bed with me.
Anthony was there absolutely every step of the way. He was in the bathroom with me at my house when I couldn't move from the toilet. He was in the exam room, and there for the ultrasounds. He helped me clean up the blood and handed me wipes and pads and underwear and didn't even blink when I bled all over his shoes. He wiped away my tears and kissed my forehead and...well you get it. Talk about seeing someone at their lowest. But he never left my side.
And then they came in to get me, and not even thirty minutes later I was waking up in the recovery area, wishing he was with me. It was the first thing I asked...."Where's Anthony?"
A nice nurse told me he and my mom would be in my room, but I had to stay in recovery first.
Laying in the recovery area, feeling so alone and wanting nothing more than to have Anthony walk in, I did the only thing I could think of - I pulled the sheet up to cover my eyes from the light and the world, and I talked to my dad. Because that's what I do when I feel alone...and I really felt alone.
As much as I didn't want to tell him, as unfair as I thought it was, I told him he would be the first one to meet his first grandchild. That he would have to take care of him for us.
It hurt for me to tell him those things...but it was also some of the only comfort I felt that day. If I had to lose our baby, at least he wouldn't be alone. My dad would be there too.
I was taken back to my room, and my mom and Anthony came in a few minutes later. Not long after that I was discharged, and we were home by 2:00pm.
When we got home, I made a cup of tea - because good English breakfast tea cures all ills and sadness - and my mom filled me in on her conversation with Barb. It's obvious that the deal with that first house fell through - and of course it had to happen the same weekend as the miscarriage because why not? Well...in retrospect it's a good thing it fell through, and the timing gave me somewhere to direct all of my anger.
It turns out that somewhere along the line, the seller's attorney dropped the ball, which is why we hadn't heard anything for so long. However, by Friday when they finally came at us with their "final" offer, the sellers DEMANDED a response by 5pm that day. Hah. HAHAHAHA. I had responded to absolutely everything within 12 hours, and that time they weren't getting shit.
My mom had told Barb what was going on, and she relayed that I had a medical emergency and the sellers graciously extended their deadline to 5pm Monday (/somuchsarcasmtheyprobablyfeltit). But at that point I didn't need until 5pm Monday, We were out. They had offered way too little and were trying to string us along to get more for the house than it was worth, given the things that needed to be fixed. It was a hard NO for us at that point, and we were ready to be done with them.
When I spoke to my attorney Monday he agreed immediately and said he would send over the contract termination for me to sign, and a letter to get my earnest money back. The house thing isn't so exciting from here on out, except that when they receive the termination letter they "magically" found an extra $500 to offer us...because it turns out their agent was so desperate to get rid of them that he was willing to put up a portion of his commission to tempt me, and even asked Barb to do the same. She didn't bite, and we still rejected the offer because even with that $500 their credits barely scraped enough to fix one issue with the house.
And that's how that ended too.
That's not to say that some things didn't work out for the better - we found a better house, we got a wonderful dog that we KNOW was born into this world solely to join our family, and things are moving along again. But even now, the hurt is still present. (More on that later.)
The fear that it could happen again is still there. Hannah told me at one point that, though she wished she could tell me otherwise, even once you pass the first trimester in another pregnancy, even when everyone tells you things are going fine with your pregnancy, the pain and fear will never truly go away until we have a healthy baby in our arms. I know she's right. First of all because she's Hannah, and she's wise FAR beyond her years. Second, because the thought of having to go through any of that again is...well it's terrifying.
There was obviously anger that went along with everything that happened. And the sadness that our first baby died is still with us. There is no way to describe it other than unfair. And no, life is not fair.
Seriously, spare me.
Fairness is not something you care about when faced with the loss of a child. You do not care that life is not always easy and fun and full of good moments. You only care that something you loved and wanted so deeply is taken away from you for absolutely no reason. There is no logic to it, there is no blame to be placed, there is only sadness and anger that you lost something so close to your heart.
For me, the anger has been drawn out with every billing statement I get as well. I just got one a few weeks ago for almost $800...and I was shocked because I was sure I was done paying. I know I have to pay for the procedure and everything, but talk about adding insult to injury. For three years since I started at my company I have saved the majority of my HSA money for "when I have a baby" (minus some ortho appointments and MRIs). Well. The miscarriage has almost drained it. The entire experience cost me almost $4000, which is almost my entire out of pocket balance for my plan, and it feels like a personal insult from my insurance company.
If anything in my life has made me hate the state of healthcare in America more than I already did, it was going through this. I cannot even fathom how I would feel if I had carried to term and then found out my child was sick.
Couple that with the recent fiasco that is the AHCA ("Trumpcare") and it doesn't take much to make me go from zero to SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH IF YOU SUPPORT OR VOTED FOR ANY ASSHOLE WHO VOTED FOR THAT BILL.
Truly, the state of healthcare in this country is shameful and so sickening.
Seriously. Don't talk healthcare around me if you support this bullshit, or I'm likely to end you because it feels so.personal.
It's hard not to take it personally when you spend weeks after a miscarriage feeling physically and emotionally empty. Knowing the little creature that had attached itself to you to grow and live is gone. When you spend months wondering if you will feel "normal" again after such a loss.
We have obviously established a new normal. We have our house and our dog and work, and on the weekends there have been trips and races and all sorts to keep us busy.
Speaking of...all of this made racing very hard to return to. In part because my body wasn't feeling great for a while, and also because I cared very little about training. I'll delve into this later, but I wanted to mention it quickly because it shows how this one thing that happened truly affected everything.
I'm still not done with all of these updates. There will be at least one more detailing things with the new house and Token's adoption, and I promise that the sad stuff has now been written. Things get happier from here on out ;)
And as a thank you for following along...here's a happy picture to make you smile ;)
PS...these three Parts were already pretty much written. The next few may take a little longer for me to type out, so hold tight. I do promise they're coming.