Haley Mills just told my stepdaughter in a song to “hide your real self” when trying to get a boy’s attention. I think I may have just found the reason for my social incompetence growing up.
Remember when I said bring it on body, I can handle it? This isn’t what I had in mind. Can you please stop listening to me now, body?
I had yet another doctor’s appointment today for the miscarriage that will never end. I hate waiting for the doctor. Why do they bother putting you in a back room only to make you wait for another 20 minutes for the doctor to come and see you? I hate that I’m still in pain, that my body won’t heal. Wasn’t it punishment enough that I lost the child I was carrying, that now I have to still be dealing with the aftermath almost 6 weeks later? The medical assistant who took my blood pressure (and who also happens to be the same man who butchered my arm when he tried to unsuccessfully take my blood a few weeks ago*) said before he was leaving the room, “Oh, you won’t be needing the OB tray” as he lifts the basket and walks out the door, but not before he took a hold of the knife in my heart and jabbed it further in a few more times just to make sure it was securely in there. He had also told me that “Rain” (the doctor) would be in shortly. Are you serious? Rain? At that moment, I wanted to scream at West County. Hold my fists up and curse the hippies and their nonsense want-to-be-medicine. I would have given anything to have been back in Providence where they know a thing or two about medicine. Of course, it turned out I really liked her, even more than my previous doctor, and was secretly devising a plan to get her to be my friend (plus she wasn’t as hippie as her name made her out to be). Still, they don’t know what to do. No one knows what to do except tell me to wait it out. I finally said yes to the pain medication they’ve been trying to give me since this happened, although I’m not sure I”ll try it. And I left the office angry. Furious. Upset at my body, at the doctors, at the entire situation. I want this to be over. I want to feel normal. I want to run until all the pain goes away…but I can’t run because it hurts. I have the constant feeling that someone is holding onto my left ovary and won’t let go as I keep walking. I have an appointment with my acupuncturist on Monday and he’s my last hope. I’ve read good things about eastern medicine being able to shrink cysts, and I’m holding out that it will work. I’m also planning a cleanse after my friend Sara (hi Sara!) comes to visit. Something has to work. Even though at this moment, I feel like I might be in this pain for the rest of my life. I know, that’s not exactly positive thinking. But it’s hard to remain positive when every day the pain is exactly as it was the day before.
It was one month ago today that I lost the baby. It’s been a difficult month. Some days are harder than others. One minute I’m happy and okay, the next minute I’m sobbing. The vivid flashes of what happened are excruciating. They hit me and I stop breathing. Every second of the miscarriage I can recall. Every ounce of fear and pain can come back to me in an instant.
I have realized in all the personal accounts of miscarriages I’ve read, no one has mentioned how helpless you feel when it’s happening. You feel the pain, you start to bleed….and you can do absolutely nothing to stop what you know is going to happen. It’s not like when you see an approaching car going right at you too fast, you can brake in an attempt to prevent an accident. Or when you’re watching a child start to wobble, you can reach out and catch him before he falls. There was nothing I could do. I just had to sit and wait for the inevitable. I didn’t want to believe what I knew was coming. I wanted to hold on to that hope with an iron grip and not let it go. But my body had a different plan and it wasn’t going to listen. I was helpless. And that instant, the one where I knew I had passed the “tissue,” is the one that flashes to me the most. I had started shaking uncontrollably. I know the exact lighting of the moment, what position Tim was sitting in, where my hands were, what the light outside was like. The fear I felt, the doubt, the instant sadness, it all engulfed me. All those feelings making me convulse. I wanted to reverse time, pretend like what just happened wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. I spent all those weeks excited for what was to come, thankful that I was finally going to have a baby, and it was all over in less than an hour. How are you supposed to reverse months of excitement in an instant? I was empty, when two minutes before, I was full of what was to be. I had my baby, and then I didn’t. I know these flashes will lesson over time, they’ll be further and further apart eventually. But right now, they still consume me.
I’m having a hard time finding the feelings of excitement you get before you’re going to try and get pregnant that I had before all of this happened. A part of me doesn’t even want to. And the most ridiculous part of why I’m having such a hard time is the fact that I was going to have a fall baby. I’d be pregnant in the summer so I could wear dresses and I’d have a baby during my favorite time of the year. And now it will be a winter baby, and I don’t want to be pregnant during the winter. I know all of this is just stupid, I know that…but everything was perfect. I’m a planner and I usually have a hard time when I have to stray from that plan. And yes, I also know that these sorts of things you can’t plan. But I did. And it was going all according to plan. I know I need to let that go, I know that in the grand picture, that is not what is important. I’m working on it. There’s a plan bigger than my plan, no matter how much I wanted a fall baby.