Heartbreak

Telling my mother about the miscarriage was brutally heartbreaking.  I couldn't bear to hear the obvious disappointment in her voice, and had to hang up the phone.  She was so looking forward to having another grandchild, and I was so looking forward to giving her one.  The worst part of our conversation was when the volume of her voice disappeared into a near-whisper.  I could barely hear her, yet I couldn't miss the sadness and confusion in everything she said.  

It was probably more devastating than the actual miscarriage itself, although I hesitate describing it in that way.  I never thought it would be so difficult telling her...everyone else we told took the news with such genuine sadness, and I didn't so much as blink an eye.  One of my friends even broke into tears over the phone and I didn't so much as feel a twinge in my gut.

But over a five minute phone call with my mother, I finally broke down in tears and cried.  It was one of the worst, stomach-churning feelings I've ever had the misery of experiencing.  

But the reverse of the situation would have meant not telling her about the pregnancy at all, or until the second trimester which never came.  People warned me about telling people, saying doom and gloom comments about how miscarriages happened all the time and that I would be wise to wait until it was "safe" to let everyone know.  

My mother was the first person I called to tell about the pregnancy, and the response she gave me was so joyful.   It was as if our complicated relationship immediately transformed into something complete at that very moment.  That's the phone call I will remember for the rest of my life, not the one that just made me sob for an hour.

For that reason alone, I wouldn't change a thing.

A Stye for my Eye

This miscarriage has made me go to drastic measures to try to avoid being depressed.  I've been trying to cheer myself up in ways that don't require spending boat-loads of money on shoes and purses.  I've made an effort and tried seeing the humor in the little things, so I'll be distracted from the issues at hand.  But it hasn't been working quite as I'd expected, I'm afraid.  

An example...I still kind of LOOK pregnant.  My stomach still pooches out, which can mean one of two things:  1) I'm still bloated from the hormones and it will (God willing) eventually go down.  Or 2) I was always this fat and never accepted it.  The pregnancy gave me an excuse to buy a stretchy pants/empire waist wardrobe.

In addition to this minutae, I found a gross little "discovery" while rubbing my allergy-itchy eye in the morning.  Talk about adding insult to injury...I felt a tell-tale pinch while blinking today.  Upon closer inspection in a mirror, I found the biggest, fattest, pinkest stye I've ever seen.  It nearly resembled a second head.

Regardless of what horrible things have happened this week, I started thinking weird, unnatural thoughts about my new "addition."  One thought that kept popping into my head was "I'm not pregnant anymore.  But my eyeball looks like it's about eight months along."

Humor will save me from this ongoing pity-fest.  Sick, unadulterated, gross humor.

A Day of Normalcy

Woke up.  Got out of bed.  Drag a comb across my head.

We went downtown to do some errands, watch a senselessly violent movie, eat an organic lunch at Samovar, and stare out into space in order to avoid watching the various babies and pregnant women floating around.  They were like neon signs with arrows pointing at them.  

But today the bleeding finally slowed to a minimum, and I felt no serious cramping for the first time in nearly a week.  Also, my body is feeling like itself again.  If I can muster a positive thought, I'd say it was a fairly decent day.  

Insensitive comments from well-meaning friends have done nothing to help my mood, however.  Some advice:  Do not tell a woman who has just miscarried that "it happens to a lot of women" or that "it happens all the time."  Also, don't make bad jokes about "being lucky you can start trying again.  Heh heh."  

The reason you should follow said advice?  

1.  Women who have miscarried already know all the numbers, facts, statistics, and percentages.  We Google.  A LOT.   And knowing the facts do not usually help us feel better about losing a pregnancy.  

2.  Bad jokes are never amusing.  Even when they're meant to be, and with the best of intentions.

What Everything Means

I had HCG numbers at 600.  That meant I was low for my 7/8 week pregnancy, but I wasn't down and out for the count yet.  There was a possibility the week was off.

We waited for the blood tests to return the second time.  If the numbers went up drastically, or doubled, it meant the pregnancy had a good chance of being viable.  If the numbers went down, it meant I was miscarrying naturally, which was a good thing, if there is such a thing as a "good miscarriage."  That meant I wouldn't have to have a procedure to get the rest of the tissue out of my uterus.  

The worst case scenario was if the numbers went up slightly.  That most likely meant it was an ectopic pregnancy, which would involve surgery to remove it, and the danger involved in having someone cut you open to mess around with your fallopian tubes.  

So the numbers came back a second time...181.  I was strangely relieved.  I think I was already accepting the fact that the pregnancy was gone.  I had already cried over the loss.  I was moving forward before I even realized it.  

And now, we try again.

Sadness

The pregnancy miscarried.  It's official.  The bleeding turned into cramping.  The cramping turned into more bleeding and incredible discomfort all throughout Tuesday and Wednesday night.  I slept very little, and wiled away the hours on the Internet, Googling my symptoms, looking for a glimmer of hope in a situation that was all too obvious.  

I knew on Saturday when I spotted a nickel-sized dot of blood that I had lost the pregnancy.  My body knew.  Every pregnancy symptom had just magically disappeared the week before, and I had known as early as two weeks ago.

And the facts are all written in black in white.  It happens all the time to all different aged women, and it happens for no reason in particular.  It just happens.  As disturbing as that is, it's true.  I can't deny nature, because frankly, nature is far more perfect than I am.  I am trying to accept that this miscarriage happened for a reason.  Most of them happen because of a chromosomal abnormality.  Your body just rejects what is not a viable pregnancy.  That actually offers more comfort than the thought of the miscarriage happening because of something specific I did, like a fight with my husband that stressed my body out.

The doctor's visit wasn't a happy one, and the doctor actually concerned me more than comforted me.  She mentioned the requisite facts and figures, and reiterated the possibility of having an unhealthy baby with birth defects and problems because of my age.  When I asked her for some encouragement, she continued to mention the possibilities of mental retardation and autism for women of my age.  For the rest of the meeting, all I could focus on was how incredibly old I felt.  I left feeling dejected, concerned, scared, and upset.

But my stubborn streak still fights it's way to the top of the emotional tide that's swelling inside my stomach every time I doubt trying to get pregnant.   I was born "sticking to my guns," and I suppose it's always been considered a negative characteristic to anyone who's been unfortunate enough to have had a confrontation with me.  I rarely give up the ghost, and it's definitely lost me more friends than I've gained.

I don't know how this detrimental pugnacity that used to get me in so much trouble is saving me now, in a time of complete upheaval...but I suppose I'm grateful to have it.  I hope it will carry my sorry old hide out of this ring of fire and fear.  

Scary Spotting

Some light spotting began on Saturday the 21st.  It was brown and sticky, and only slightly red.  I panicked and called the E.R. nurse to ask questions.  I was told that it was normal, and that many women spot in their first trimester.

However, being paranoid, I wrote my doctor.  She said "It's not normal, but many people do spot in their first trimester."  

Confused, I made an appointment to see someone today.  Still spotting, and heavier, more red than before, I began fearing the worst.  The doctor was not my regular doctor, very young, and seemed very negative about the transvaginal ultrasound.  She said she could see the amniotic sac, but no fetal pole.  There was no heartbeat, and worse still, she said it was way too small to be at 6 1/2 weeks.  My heart broke.

She sent me for blood tests to check for hormone levels, and also signed me up for a sonogram and another transvaginal ultrasound in the radiology department.  It was all pretty invasive and horrible, and nothing seems positive about any of the possible outcomes.

I'll hear back tomorrow morning, hopefully.  I'm fearing the worst, and bracing myself for bad news, although people say not to stress out and worry.  I don't think I can't worry about it.  It's not sounding good.

I'm still bleeding, and more heavily than before.  The blood has turned from brown to red, and I'm fairly sure it's a miscarriage.  

We shall see.  

Week 6

WEEK 6!

It's the size of a lima bean and it may or may not have flippers and a tail.  I am currently a human incubator to a Sea Monkey.  

Also, the heart starts beating this week!  No matter how you spin it, that is COOL.

Educational Television

Kristina's Television Schedule:

Jon and Kate Plus Eight-Great insight into how stoked we are NOT to be having sextuplets.

Father of the Bride part II-Hilarious insight into how older women are still having healthy babies.

A Baby Story-Scary insight into how painful childbirth is and how some happy new parents make me want to hurl.

Nine Months-Realistic insight into the fear and panic men experience when they find out they're going to be a father.

Kill Bill-Helpful insight into the life of contract killers.  

(That last one is totally necessary.  I need a break from these baby shows.  Seriously.  They're freaking me out.)

Stressing Out

Hubby and I had a big ass fight the other day and I thought the embryo would fly out of my womb due to the stress and screaming that ensued.  I'm beginning to think about the possibility of miscarriage every moment of every day.  

My thought process goes like this:

1) My age.  I'm friggin' old.  Or so I'm told by EVERYONE.

2) My health.  I'm asthmatic and allergic to pretty much everything in the air.  I'm the geeky kid on the playground with the head/neck gear and the inhaler permanently attached to my mouth.

3) I'm a stress basket by nature.  I'm borderline OCD.  I'm a female Monk.  (I watch a lot of Law and Order...this also qualifies me for the Monk description.)

4) The embryo hates me already and therefore wants out of this partnership.  By the way, I fully realize this is just me being completely unreasonable and emotionally unstable.  But since I'm pregnant, I'm allowed to be crazy for at least another 8 months.  Cool beans!

I know the odds, because I've been reminded of them on every website dedicated to pregnancy on the Internet.  I also know that I'm beyond the magic age of 35, which makes me MORE likely to miscarriage or have birth defects.

But right now I choose to be happy, undisturbed by numbers and statistics (which are notoriously wrong in most cases).  I want to remember that life throws you curve balls sometimes, and you swing and miss, or hit it out of the park.  This pregnancy is getting to me...I must be slowly losing my mind.  Did I just use a baseball metaphor?!

Yesterday is history.

Tomorrow is a mystery.

Today is a gift.  That is why it is called "the present."

(For those of you who saw Kung Fu Panda, now in theaters, you know I totally stole that from the movie.  Don't hate.  It's still super cool.)

The First Day

It is the first day of summer vacation, and what I consider the official beginning of my 1st trimester.  I must admit, this pregnancy could not have been planned better.  I will be close to my 2nd trimester (the one that doesn't suck so much) when I begin work again.  That will be easier to bear, considering all of the horror stories all of these older mothers at my work have been telling me about morning sickness and cramps.  

I'm wondering if they are truly happy for me because I'm going to experience the joys of motherhood, or if they're truly happy for THEM because I'm going to become another statistic in their "Pain of Childbirth" club.  I may be imagining it, but sometimes, I see sadistic little smiles and smirks out of the corner of my eye.  

Then again, I'm the youngest person at work.  This may be some sort of evil hazing initiation into their sorority.

Dolly Parton Boobs

I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I'm not entirely enjoying my newfound boobage.  It's just not comfortable, and downright painful to breathe.  They're humongous...freak-show big.  And they're uber-tender, to the point where putting on a bra actually causes me to wince.  

Husband, however, is enjoying making Marty Feldman eyeballs whenever I complain about how big they've gotten.  On the flip side, I'm enjoying smacking him on the head with my ring hand.  

Interesting male behavioral note:  Husband has also taken to high-fiving male friends he tells about the pregnancy.  I'm assuming this is typical (and hopefully temporary) testosterone pride, and that a low intelligence quotient has nothing to do with it.

Belly Aflame

My arm grazed my bloated belly today and nearly burst into flame...my stomach feels like it's on FIRE!  

Now, I hear this is all due to something called a "maternity metabolism" shift or something like that.  That's good to know.

Because if it's not that, I may be the human incubator for Rosemary's Baby.  

What's the Deal with Week 5?!

Ok, so a question to the person in charge of women's pregnancies...what is UP with the freakin' BLOAT, man?!  It's like someone pulled the rip cord on an inflatable raft!  My stomach is literally looking 5 months pregnant.  NOT CUTE when people ask how far along I am.  I am as ambiguous as possible, borderline lying.  

So I did the absolute worst thing possible.  I Googled "horrible bloating early pregnancy" on the Internet.  Seems that some women bloat, some lucky ones don't.  Apparently, I am in the former group.  FABULOUS.

But the reason I say it was the absolute worst thing to do is because Googling any phrase with the word "pregnancy" in it conjures up a ridiculous amount of web pages about "miscarriage" and "birth defects."  And being me, I read all of them in one sitting, eyes bugged out and heart beat racing.

I guess it's the 2nd absolute worst thing to do...the 1st absolute worst is to Google "older pregnancy."  That one is guaranteed to be a heart stopper...literally.

No Way.

On Wednesday, June 4th, I missed my Aunt Flow.  I'm a well-maintained menses clock, so I knew either I was stressed out beyond my normal ability to handle stress or...ridiculous thought...I was pregnant.

The former seemed more likely, considering my stressful job and the fact I had a ton of gossipy co-workers occupying my every waking moment.  I was exhausted, burnt out, and dealing with work negativity that was making me want to vomit.  It didn't cross my mind that being PREGNANT would make me want to vomit, and not workplace gossip.

I took the first test when I got home.  A "control" line showed up, strong blue and solid.  I waited a moment or two and squinted when I started seeing a very light second line appear.  It was barely there.  I ran upstairs with my pee-stick and showed my husband.  

"Is this a line?!"  I said.

Squinting, hubby said, "Yup.  Looks like it to me."  He barely displayed a smirk.

I paused, looked down again at the stick, and said, "Noooooo waaaaay."

Hubby and I looked at each other.  Then we looked at the stick.  Then I ran downstairs and took another test.  Positive.  I took a third.  Positive.

At this point, the retelling of this event becomes borderline stupid.  The husband ran to 

Walgreens at 1 in the  morning to get another three boxes of tests.  Ten tests later, I was barely convinced my over the hill body had actually managed to conceive a would-be human baby.

The next day at work, I waited for a free minute and ran to the local drug store to buy yet another pregnancy test.  I took the test in the bathroom at work and saw the result was still "YES."  I called my mother.

Ring ring..."Mom?  I think I'm pregnant!"

Mom made weird noises I've never heard out of her mouth before, and then a prolonged screaming that made the phone vibrate, followed by shorter squeaks, then finally tiny huffs of happy.  

I kinda sorta believed it at this point.  But I went to get a blood test right after work, just to be sure.  The results are officially in.  I'm pregnant!

And completely freaked out!