Day: September 21, 2012


The bleeding and cramping finally started.

It hasn’t really gotten bad yet.

I keep expecting it to get worse… I actually hope it does.

I haven’t taken any of the Percocet, either.  The pain isn’t unbearable, and at this point, I want to feel it.

I feel like if I’m not in pain, then none of this was real.

I guess the only thing I really want is for this to have been real.  Too often, people want to “move on” or “start over”, and while I want those things too, I don’t want to move so fast that I forget, that others forget.

I understand the urge for loved ones to reach out to support the husband and I, and while food and friendship, kind words and offers of a shoulder to cry on are lovely and much appreciated, what we really need is for people to acknowledge what we are feeling, what really happened.

Our baby died.

Our baby died, and now I’m physically dealing with that, as well as the emotional and psychological torture of miscarriage.

Our baby died, and and I don’t want to medicate the memories away.

Our baby died, and I want to feel the pain so that I can always remember.

Our baby died, but our baby was alive, ours.




Stalled Out

I’ve had some time to recover from the shock of the news we received on Tuesday, and figured I should update you all on what’s happened since then.

The husband and I spent the rest of Tuesday alternately sleeping, watching mindless TV, grieving, and eating our feelings.  Our feelings taste a lot like starchy comfort food, turns out.

I went back to work on Wednesday.  It was a little surreal sitting at my desk, smiling when it was appropriate, and making small talk with coworkers, all the while knowing that there is a dead baby inside of me.  I said things that were inappropriate for my situation, especially since a few of my coworkers knew what had happened.

I say inappropriate things when I’m uncomfortable.  And I make others uncomfortable.  I just don’t know how to deal with this, so I try to act normally… which is probably what makes everyone uncomfortable.

I’m awkward when my life is going well… I expect something like this to only magnify that trait by a thousand.

On Wednesday evening, I started spotting dark brown, and by bedtime was feeling mild cramps.  I figured the miscarriage was happening naturally, and went to bed prepared to deal with the aftermath.

When I woke up on Thursday morning… nothing.  I still had some cramping, and I spotted throughout the day yesterday, but no progress.

Last night, after having a wonderful dinner prepared for us by an amazing friend, I decided to use the Cytotec the doctor had given me to help the process along.

I prepared like someone stocking for a field triage tent.  I made sure I had bottles of water within reach, as well as lots of dark-colored towels next to the bed.  I set alarms for every two hours so I could be sure that I was conscious of my body, and could check for blood loss and call to update the husband on occasion.  I plugged in my heating pad, and made sure my Percocet prescription was handy as well.

(By the way, when Dr. K said “I also wrote you a script for three days worth of Percocet for the pain”, I really thought that was like six pills.  No.  THIRTY PILLS IS THREE DAYS WORTH?  Good LORD.  I wonder if I can trade leftover Percocet for Menopur on the black market…)

I did like the doctor said and put the four pills into the end of a tampon, placed them, and prayed that it wouldn’t hurt too badly when the cramping started.

I went to bed, somewhat comforted by my stash of supplies all within arms reach, and fell asleep quickly.  Comfort food overindulgence and constant worry are a better sleep-aid than Ambien.

I awoke a few times in the night with mild cramping, but no evidence of heavy bleeding… or any bleeding, for that matter.  As I type this, it’s been about ten hours since I took the Cytotec, and precisely nothing has happened.

I called Dr. K’s office a little while ago to let them know, and they are supposed to be calling me back after they talk to the doc.  How much you wanna bet they call me in another dose and have me try again?


Why can’t anything just work like it’s supposed to?  I feel like I’m constantly steeling myself for what comes next, and then it never comes the way I expect.  At this rate, I’m just praying I won’t have to have a D&C after all…

So anyway, that’s where I am now.  Stuck, stagnant, and stalled out.

Apparently my body really, really wanted to be pregnant, and has no intentions of giving up without a fight.  Normally I’d appreciate that, but right now, I just want this to be over so I can start to heal.

I’ll update more later, and hopefully there will be some progress made by then.

Happy nine weeks pregnant to me.  Ugh.

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Summertime Sadness

A safe space where I discuss the racing thoughts in my head, personal struggles, and day-to-day activities while struggling with mental health and mood disorder issues. My personal goal is to reduce the stigma that comes with mental health and mood disorders, by talking more about it.