Is there anything worse....

...than not being allowed to eat when you're hungry? Isn't it funny how I can normally go half a day without eating without any issues, as long as you keep me busy, but today, when I know I'm not allowed to eat anything whatsoever, I feel like I'm starving??? It's been almost 12 hours already. Last time I took a bite out of anyting was last night around 7.50pm.

Friday I went to the lab for my 28w Glucose Screening Test. I was already a couple of days over seeing how I was almost 29w and I was supossed to do it when I was 26w aaaaaaand I have to admit I was just pushing it off as long as possible in hope the doctor would say "oh darn, now we're too late, we can't do it anymore". Yeah pretty stupid I know. So maybe this is my payback for that.
Yesterday early in the morning, I got a phone call from one of the nurses at my ObGyn's office telling me that I've "failed" my test. So today I'm going back in to do the 3hr one. Meaning I'll go in, I'll have blood drawn to see what my levels are before pumping all that sugar into my system, then I get to drink the oh so deliciously tasting 100gram Glucose drink (which is 100grams of refined sugar mixed into I don't know what so it'd taste better which really only makes it worse. Why can't you just let me just eat chocolate or something?). Then I'm just gonna hope I'm not gonna faint 'cause I know what the 50gram drink does to my body, especially after fasting so I'm honestly terrified I'm not gonna take this one well. Ok well then I have to sit there (yes our lab does not allow you to leave to go anywhere but the bathroom next door) for one hour and then get blood drawn again. Wait another hour, get blood drawn again. And then one more hour to get blood drawn for the 4th time. So looking forward to all these blown veins - NOT.
And then I'll go home, if I can still walk by then from being tortured for hours, and wait and see if my phone will ring again. I'll probably call them later on in the afternoon to see if they have the results yet. This crap throws me back to November where every second of waiting for a phonecall felt like hours. I'm referring to the time where they told me my baby had no heartbeat and we were waiting on the new results of my bloodwork to see if it really was true or not. Long story. Maybe I should post the blog I wrote on my fb back then to catch you up.
Yeah let me just give you extra to read to do, ha. Here you go:


November 9th, 2010
Waiting for this to pass

It’s not that I always knew. It’s not that I expected it. But it’s definitely that I’ve always feared this. I always feared to be one of these women. The ones that had it all and lost it all within months, weeks or even days. Did I ever really put any thought into it as in, how it may feel, or how you cope with such a thing? No. I didn’t.

But now I know. I may not have all the answers. To be honest I don’t have a single one. But I now know the feeling. I know now how it tears you apart from the inside out. The feeling of when your heart breaks. Literally breaks into two pieces. How you already know but you won’t accept it until the doctor tells you to your face.  And even when he does, you sit there and you fight it. You fight with all you have left and you pretend you are this cold ice block who doesn’t feel a thing. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anyone you want us to call to come get you?” No I am fine. I’ll be ok.

The tears that escape my eyes I wipe with disgust and hatred at myself and the world. And my body who should be there to protect me, and not hurt me. Why would you ever want to hurt me and put me through all of this?
I sit and I wait. For the stupid nurse who was supposed to take this fucking IV out almost an hour ago so I could finally go home. I can’t take this much longer. I start kicking the bottom of the chaise I’m sitting on. I am upset. I’m in pain. Psychological pain. I don’t want to cry. I fucking don’t want to cry I just want to get out of here and go home and pretend none of this ever happened. Denial is such an ugly thing.

Finally the nurse shows up and goes over the discharge papers with me. “Please sign here”. Are you gonna take this IV out or am I gonna have to rip it out myself? I was thinking it in those words but when it came out of my mouth it sounded much nicer.  I look down on my arm that’s covered in bruises from one of the nurses’ several attempts to stick me with needles to draw blood. But if it wasn’t my veins closing up around the needles, which by the way is quite painful, then he “wasn’t sure” if it  was a vein or not. “I can feel it but I can’t see it.” Not very assuring my friend, not very assuring at all. He finally did find one, am I lucky or what? And before they put me on that ambulance they decided to leave the IV in and now, after almost 10 hours it was finally parting with me.

Please don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t tell me you’re sorry and you hope it’ll all be ok. It won’t be ok. It’s already too late for “it” to be ok. Just let me walk out of this ER with the little bit of “idontknowwhatitis” that I have left.
It has always been amazing to me how a person can do things without even really knowing they’re doing them. Like driving home in your car when you really shouldn’t. I make it to my drive way, and I sit there and wonder how I just did that. But furthermore, how am I gonna make it through the front door? Is my husband sleeping? Did he stay awake? How am I gonna tell him? How’s he gonna take it?

I put the key in the door and turn it. I walk in and my husband comes right around the corner. He is scared, I can tell he’s not trying to show it but he is scared to death and now I’m gonna have to tell him what he doesn’t want to hear. Like it isn’t enough that my heart was just broken, now I have to break his.

I look into his eyes for a split second and turn away and shake my head. I put away my keys. I put away my purse. Say something, say anything. Or do something. I look at him, I look away. I’m waiting for a reaction. “What’s that mean?? What does shaking your head mean???” he asks.
“There’s no heartbeat.” I reply.

Wow. I’m one cold bitch right now. I don’t think I put any feeling into saying that out loud whatsoever. But really, I think if I would’ve, it would’ve caused me to lose my mind. It is quite interesting really how close you are to becoming one of those nut cases that start throwing things, screaming, hitting, kicking. The whole nine yards. I was close. I was standing at the edge and I was losing my balance but caught myself. I had to. My son and daughter deserved better. They needed me. And so did my husband.

It seemed like time stood still at that moment and that he had completely frozen. After maybe 10 seconds that felt like minutes he pulled me toward him and hugged me. He held me tight. He didn’t say a thing. But then again, what do you say? What do you say when someone tells you, your unborn child is dead. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to say it’d all be ok. But all I could think was how I was hurting and that I didn’t have the strength to make him feel better. I didn’t have it in me.

I pulled away and went into the living room. Our almost 3yr old daughter was laying on the couch sound asleep. Her 7yr brother was upstairs sleeping in his room. I looked at her and thought “You have two kids. You have two kids. They’re both in overall good health. What more do you want?” I actually even began to think maybe I didn’t deserve this baby. Maybe, just maybe, it was selfish of me wanting to bring one more child into my family when others are fighting to have only one and sometimes even none. No. I’m not gonna let myself believe that. If that would be the case then how do you justify women having an abortion? How do you justify women that have 4, 5 even 6 children, in many cases not even from the same man. I wanted this child. My husband wanted this child. It’s not fair but it wasn’t meant to be. And that is what I told my husband who needed to hear anything coming out of my mouth that would make this go away. I told him what the doctor told me which makes me a hypocrite in so many ways, I know. When the doctor told me all of this I was thinking “you stupid son of a bitch, who are we kidding here?”. But maybe it’ll help my husband understand. I have to at least try.

Today I am 9 weeks + 2 days. Would have been. Whatever. According to the ultrasound I’m only 6 weeks + 1 day. I must have miscalculated. My days must be off. No. they’re not. I keep records of my “first day of my last menstrual cycle” since they ask you that every single time you see a doctor even if you go in with something as simple as a runny nose. I do not believe that I’m only 6 weeks pregnant. I do not believe that maybe it’s just “too soon to detect a heartbeat”. I don’t want false hope. I don’t need false hope. I believe option number two. About three weeks ago my babies heart stopped beating. For reasons I will never know. And now my body is finally realizing “crap this baby is dead, we need to get rid of it”. That is where the bleeding comes in. The reason I went to the ER in the first place. It’s not even really blood-blood. It’s an orangey-color like discharge that I noticed after I used the bathroom. Ladies it does pay to wipe, you’ll find out a lot of things you don’t if you chose to be nasty and dirty. How do I keep my sarcasm through all of this? I have absolutely no fucking clue. To protect myself from this misery most likely.

 So they sent me home. I am supposed to come back if the bleeding becomes excessive or if I’m in too much pain. But for pain I can take Tylenol which won’t hurt the baby. My baby is dead. D E A D. It’s dead. How’s 1000mg of ibuprofen gonna hurt it now? In fact why don’t I just go home and have a bottle of wine, or maybe even two to help me ease my heartache? Don’t give me false hope! Why would you give me false hope? I don’t want to hope. It hurts. It hurts even more. If I hope now, I’ll have to go through it again. Again and again. I have to get blood drawn again 48hours after the last time. So Thursday first thing in the morning when the lab opens up. For the same day they want me to schedule an apt with the ob/gyn so “he can take it from there”. The blood will tell them if my baby is still growing. Sometimes you bleed even though your baby is fine. Yeah I know. I’ve heard it all. You seem to be forgetting that there is no heartbeat. I don’t want to deny what seems to be obvious. It won’t help me cope in the long run.

I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to go to bed. I just want to sleep this off. My husband is staying up. He has his own way to deal with this which is ok. I guess. I lay in bed for I don’t know how much longer. I toss and I turn. I am wide awake but so tired and exhausted. It’s been 12 hours since I left home to go to the ER hoping they’d tell me everything is ok don’t worry, the baby is fine. Newsflash. Nothing’s fine. Nothing’s fine at all anymore. How am I ever gonna get over this? Do you even get “over it”? How am I gonna tell my kids? They knew they were having a little baby brother or sister, they were exited. My daughter kept asking me, “Mommy, is MY baby in your tummy almost ready to come out?”. She won’t understand at all. And my son. Man I know he’ll understand. He knows what death is, he knows what it’s about. He’s so sensitive, like me. I know he’s gonna cry. And that will break my heart yet again. So how the hell am I supposed to heal when I keep having to break hearts including my own? I can’t even look at my kids as of now. It is 3 in the afternoon. I am still in bed. I tried getting up about an hour and a half ago. I couldn’t. I was standing in the kitchen, my husband’s hand on my shoulder “Are you ok hun? Are you sure you’re ok?”. Yes I am. I just can’t look at you right now, I’m sorry.

Wow. Way to go lady making him feel like it’s his fault. Or maybe he understood how it was meant. I didn’t mean to hurt him. But I really can’t look at him. I can’t look at my kids either. I feel like I’ve failed them. I’ve failed my husband, my son and daughter. But mostly I’ve failed my unborn child. And last but not least, myself.

I wish I had the strength to tell my husband what I’m going through right now. I want him to understand and I need him to understand. He wanted to come with me to the ER and I told him no. I didn’t want the kids there, maybe I knew what was coming. Maybe he blames me for that. Maybe he feels guilty for not coming, maybe he thinks he could have prevented it. None of it is true or accurate. It’s all just pain that needs reasoning. We want answers. But there aren’t any.

I know it could have been worse. I could have been 38 weeks and the baby could have died. I could have carried full term and the baby could have died while giving birth. Or right after. There are endless scenarios. I know I could have had it worse. I know that. But it all comes down to the same thing. I lost my baby. My baby is dead. Our baby is dead. We were gonna have a baby and now it’s dead.

I approach the front desk. I pull out my ID and tell the lady behind the desk that I’m 9 weeks pregnant and started bleeding. I sob. I thought I could pull myself together but I can’t. Couldn’t. She tells me to try and stay calm. Well fuck you. I don’t want to stay calm. I am scared. I am terrified. She asks me a bunch of questions, gives me a cup to go pee in and tells me to take a seat after I’m done with the urine sample. And the waiting game begins. The sobbing comes in waves. I try to distract myself. I try to find  a focusing point. My head’s spinning and I can’t seem to hold it together for more than a minute at a time. The front desk lady comes over with a box of tissue and sits down next to me. She is nice. I know she’s nice, she’s always been nothing but nice to me. But today I don’t like her. I don’t like anyone who works in this damn ER because things are not going fast enough. Not for my taste anyway. She tells me that this doesn’t mean I’m miscarrying. She said it. She used the m-word. The cat’s out of the bag. We’re talking miscarriage here. She goes on about how she miscarried before but she got through it, and when she was pregnant again she had spotting and such all the time but her baby lived. I know all she’s doing is trying to help me calm myself, to have hope. I guess this is where the false hope started.

I sent my best friend a text before I left home. I need to let her know what’s going on. First, I sent my hubby a text, I told him I’d call as soon as I know anything. Then I wanted to text my best friend back and that’s when my cellphone decided to let its battery die on me. Great. Fucking great. The last thing that could’ve distracted me at least for a little while gave up on me.

It’s starting to get dark outside. Wow it must be getting late now. I left the house maybe 5 minutes after 1600 hrs. I must have been here for over an hour now. They finally call my name. Here we go. I am sick to my stomach. My hand is still wrapped around about 6 snotty tissues so I throw them away as I walk toward the nurse that called me up.

He takes me into a room. Takes my vitals. Asks me what’s going on. Usual procedure. “Ok, mam, I’m gonna be right back.” The next dude comes in and introduces himself. Well heck like I’m gonna remember who you are or what your rank is. You’re either a nurse or you aren’t. I never know with the uniformed personnel in the ER so who cares. I don’t. I had just told the other guy what was going on,  he wrote it all down. Now this guy is holding my chart and reading it all to me wanting to tell him something new or just agree, I don’t know. He’s now telling me they are really busy tonight so they’ll get me taken care of as soon as possible and if they think I am indeed miscarrying they’ll take care of me sooner of course. Really? That’s new but ok. Ok so I am told to go back to the waiting room. God I hate this ER oh so much.
I sit back down and read the sign on the wall. Patients in the ER are not seen on a first come first serve basis. Each patient will be screened and based on severity they will be treated. People keep coming in. There’s only one lady who actually came in before me but they keep calling others back after they were screened. Really, a 16 yr old with a  broken wrist, who was diagnosed with it a day before and is just now coming in for her cast cause she was in school all day, is more severe than a woman’s dead unborn child? If she could wait all day today she could have waited another hour. Holy shit people you are messing with the wrong person here.

I walk up to the payphone. I really need to talk to my husband. I need to give him an update and tell him I’m ok. He’s probably worried sick by now. Great. I don’t have enough change. No I don’t want to ask anyone for breaking my dollar bill. No I don’t want to use a strangers cellphone and I don’t want to ask the guy that took over the front desk if I could use the phone. I don’t want to have to talk to anyone. No one other than my husband. This is a nightmare in its making. I’ve been sitting down waiting for hours now. I am actually calm though. Well not calm calm but just not crying anymore. What am I gonna do? There’s nothing I can do. All I can do is wait and keep having this false hope that was implanted on me by the nice front desk lady. Today I wanna go back and hurt her. I know none of this is her fault but I know it’ll make me feel better if I could hurt just anyone. I’m getting close to the edge again of losing my mind. This a rollercoaster and I HATE rollercoasters. Which reminds me that two weeks from now we are going to Disneyland or world whatever it’s called for four days. It was supposed to be a fun trip. Well at least I get to get wasted now over thanksgiving. Oh yeah and on my birthday that’s only 5 days away. Bittersweet.

Finally. My name is called again. I walk passed the front desk and catch a glimpse of the current time. It is now after 2000 hours.  I’m placed in another room. I was asked if I needed anything and told that a nurse would be right in with me.

 I wait for more than half an hour. Someone knocks at the door. Lieutenant “idontknowanddoncare” comes in and tells me that it looks like I have a bit of a urinal infection and that the doctor will come in shortly to let me know  what kind of meds he’ll put me on if I need any. I look at him and ask if they aren’t even gonna check via ultrasound if everything is ok. “The doctor will decide on that.” Well why don’t you just go home and fuck yourself then?! Another half hour later the doctor finally comes in. Again I have to talk about what I really don’t want to talk about and he tells me that he really doesn’t know how to use an ultrasound but he’ll try. So he leaves the room to get it. He comes back and wheels it through the door and keeps bumping the frame. Oh wow I’m confident now. He adjusts the chaise I’m laying on and does his thing. I’m about to tell him to let me do it myself.

Well he was right I gotta give him that. He really had absolutely no clue how to use the ultrasound machine. He gives up. He tells me he’s gonna try and see which gynecologist is on call. Ok. Guess I’ll wait again. I am again left alone in the room with nothing but my tears and fear. Oh. And my false hope of course.

Ten minutes later one of the many uniformed personnel that had to deal with me tonight comes and takes me yet to another room. Big room, this one really looks like an actual emergency care room. Shocker. I am again left on my own. A new face walks in with a big basket of needles and god knows what else. He’s also accompanied by a big ol’ bag of clear liquid. I know what it is and obviously who it’s for but still I ask. He doesn’t know why it just says that I need an IV so he needs to give me one. Great. I don’t like needles. He starts looking for a vein. He needs to draw blood first. Oh boy. We go from my right arm, to my left and back again. And again. Somewhere between my wrist and my elbow he thinks to have found the “best” one available and goes for it. Yeah well it seemed that way at first but my vein changed its mind and started closing up, around the needle. Now if you’ve never had that happen to you, let me just tell you it hurts like a motherfucker. I’m a whiny little kid at that point and am really fighting not to cry for my husband to come get me out of there. Well attempt number one failed. Let’s try and find another vein. It’s like the needle in the haystack. He’s an ok guy. I’m joking around to help him lighten up a little. And to help myself out as well. He seems very stressed about this and keeps apologizing to me about having to try again. Whatever dude. Just get it over with. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already off my buddy list anyway. Just one quick pointer. When you tell your patient “I can feel the vein but I can’t see it so I’m not sure if it really is one or maybe your tendon” you are not scoring any points. You are in fact scaring your patient. Fuck it. Just do it. Let’s get it over with. It works. Thank god he got my vein this time. He draws the blood and put it’s the IV. On my left index finger he puts the pulse thingy. He’s done. He leaves the room. After that I am laying on the bed for about 30 minutes with absolutely no one showing up. No one comes in to check on the IV or my vitals or just me as a person.

Finally  the doctor comes in and tells me the gynecologist on call “doesn’t do ultrasounds”. Are you shitting me now? What kind of gynecologist doesn’t do ultrasounds? I am speechless. So now they have to transport me via ambulance to the next actual hospital which is almost 40 miles away. They want to make sure the baby is in its right place and that there’s a heartbeat . And suddenly, this isn’t just an urinal infection anymore, they actually think something is wrong. I ask the doctor to pleas have someone call my husband. He tells me he’ll let the nurse know and walks out. I watch the monitor and my heart rate keeps going up. I would say I had a slight nervous break down at that point. I was shaking, crying. I was devastated. Straighten up. You are a grown ass woman. You can do this. Number two comes in. I call him number two because he was the second one to come in to screen me, and he seemed to be becoming one of my regulars. So he comes in with paperwork for me to sign, that says they are transporting me to the hospital via ambulance. I ask him if they contacted my husband and he says he’ll go check. Well good thing I asked because no one called him. So I get a phone handed to call him and let him know what’s going on. I know he’s worried and I know he doesn’t mean to give me a hard time but he is. He’s being an ass. Why didn’t I call him sooner he was worried sick and can’t I just come home. Well no I can’t. And I would have called sooner but I was busy getting poked by needles. We argue. I cannot believe we are really arguing. Not now. I tell him I have to go and I will call as soon as I can and tell him to call the ER if he doesn’t hear from me.

“You’re all set? The ambulance is ready.” Number two takes me towards the exit where an ambulance is waiting with the doors wide open and the red lights flashing. Nice guy helps me get in and gives me the choice of laying down on a stretcher or sitting down in a chair. I chose the stretcher hoping I might get some sleep on the ride to the hospital. I call this one nice guy simply because he really was nice. The only one who showed some concern and how I may feel and that maybe just maybe someone needed to distract me a little. I told him it’s freezing cold in the ambulance so he turned on the heater and put two blankets on me after he put all the security straps on me. He takes the seat right behind me. Number two is driving. Well let’s go I guess.

I am a control freak. I have to be in control of pretty much everything. I hate to be in the passenger seat so being in the back of an ambulance driving on deadly Fort Irwin road in the middle of the night with no street lights and going faster than the speed limit which in a lot of cases ends up deadly out here, is not my kind of being in control. Fort Irwin road is 31miles long. Nothing but desert. There’s no house, not even a gas station. If you get in an accident out here at a bad time when no one else is getting on or off post, you’re pretty much screwed. Get your mind off of it already. Think of something pretty. Something shiny.  Something happy. Are we there yet?

Nice guy asks me if I’m ok and if I needed anything. No thank you. I’m just peachy. I just need this baby to be alive and go home and get some sleep.

We make it to the hospital. I get checked in. I hate people asking me over and over what’s wrong with me. Just read the damn chart. I feel special that I have military personnel escorting me. But who am I kidding. They might be heroes and all but I’m alone on this one. Number two stays in the lobby and nice guy follows me and the nurse. We are asked to take a seat and another nurse calls the ultrasound tech on call. I really really have to pee but I am needed to keep my bladder full for a better chance of getting good ultrasound pictures. Man I’m about done being tortured tonight. Nice guy and I start talking about how tired we are and just random things. He asks me where I’m from and I tell him Germany so we talk about that and that he has orders to go there with his wife. I usually don’t like random conversations that are meaningless but this time I was glad I wasn’t left alone yet again.

 Mr ultrasound tech finally shows up and man does he look and talk like a complete ass. I try to break the ice by saying “did they have to wake you up because of me?” and he goes “uhum”. I apologize. Am I stupid? Why should I apologize to Mr dick head for having to do his job? Well this is great. He orders me to take my clothes off from the waist down and cover myself with the sheet he hands me as he leaves the room. I don’t think I’ve ever been this uncomfortable in my entire life. Why is it so hard for people to be nice to others. He knows why I’m here. He should know I’m scared why does he have to make me feel like shit on top of it? He comes back in and starts the ultrasound on my belly. He takes a ton of pics and then informs me he has to do another ultrasound, this time internal. Ok. Well finally. I don’t know if he just wasn’t very good at what he was doing or if he was just desperately trying to find what I was seeking for, a heartbeat, but he was hurting me. I’ve had lots of these ultrasounds done but I’ve never experienced it this way. Ok we’re done you can get dressed and come right out. Ok? That’s it? But I didn’t hear a thing? And you didn’t say a thing? What the hell is going on????

I get dressed as I am told. I go back out in the hall and wait as I am told. Nice guy doesn’t ask.  He keeps to himself. You can tell this isn’t the first time he’s doing this. Almost an hour goes by until we get the results. A piece of paper. That’s it. They’re gonna send the pictures in. We leave. We go get number two in the lobby and walk to the ambulance. I see nice guy reading the paper. I see number two looking at it. They know. They both now. I still don’t know shit. We get in the ambulance and I get strapped in again. I got my blankets back. It really is freezing cold that night. Nice guy is driving this time and number two is right next to him. No one is riding in the back with me this time. No more flashing lights either. It’s done and I am alone again. I think I hear nice guy say “I couldn’t tell her” to number two. But maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

There was no heartbeat. I didn’t hear a heartbeat. Maybe the machine was on mute? But I thought that’s what we were looking for right? A heartbeat? Or maybe the ultrasound tech just was an idiot who didn’t know what he was doing or maybe he was being an ass cause he was pissed that he was woken up so he just didn’t even try to find it? My mind is racing. And my head is killing me.

It’s ironic. When I was pregnant with my son, I didn’t quit smoking until I was 3 months pregnant. With my daughter when I was 7 weeks. I quit smoking 367 days ago but NOW something goes wrong? Now that I’m not smoking anymore at all???

 I decide to prepare myself for the worst. It’s almost over now. You’re on your way home now.
I’m back in the ER. One more room. Waiting on one more doctor. It is now after midnight. I don’t have to wait that long this time around until a doctor comes in. Here we are. It’s officially. Reality check.
I wanna go home. I need to get out of this ER. Let me get out and go home!!! It is 8 minutes after 0100 hours as I get in my car. After that I have no more feeling for time for the rest of the night.

It is 1633 hours now. I have been in my bedroom all day. Except for that one attempt to get back into reality. My husband came in a bit ago and sat down next to me on the edge of my bed. His hand on my leg he asked if I was ok. If I needed anything. I told him I was ok and that writing helps. It does. I asked how he was and he said he’d be ok. He doesn’t look like his usual self. He’s hurting. I didn’t expect him to hurt this bad. I need to remind myself that he just lost a baby too. It’s not just me. It’s him too who’s going through this. He asked if I’m gonna be ok with the kids tomorrow but I asked him to please stay home another day to take care of them. I don’t think I’m gonna have the strength yet. Tomorrow will be here so soon. I can’t deal with reality this soon. I just can’t. Going back means telling everyone what happened. My son and daughter, our friends and families. I will have to explain. I will also have to listen to what they may feel and I just can’t do that right now. Heck if I can’t even look at them right now how am I supposed to comfort them?

How can I let them comfort me? I need space. That’s all I need right now. I need my dead baby to leave my body and I need it to do it fast. What am I gonna do now? I have maternity clothes sitting in my closet ready to be worn. I got myself a pregnancy journal. I was looking at baby strollers. Had a registry set up, not completed but set up. We had names picked out. I wanna move on as fast as I can but I can’t do that because I am still carrying my baby, dead or alive, it’s still inside of me.

Tomorrow is another day. Maybe it’ll bring me clarity. Maybe I’ll wake up stronger. Strong enough to deal with this.
I’m gonna wait for this to pass. Literally. That’s what they call it. You are passing your pregnancy. Keep track of how much blood your losing, stay hydrated, rest. I just realized Thursday is Veteran’s Day. So the lab and ob/gyn clinic will be closed of course. That’s just my luck. So I guess I have to wait until Friday. And then Friday they’ll probably tell me I have to wait until after the weekend to get my uterus scraped out. It’s gonna be one heck of a happy birthday for me on Sunday.

You’d think having to be told your baby is no longer showing any signs of life would be the worst part of it. It isn’t. Sitting around waiting for it to leave your body and then telling the people you have to tell, that is worse. It brings so much more pain into this. It’s almost unbearable.

Life sucks. Sometimes it knocks you down so hard you feel  like you can’t get up. I know I have it in me. I will eventually get back up. I will get through this with my husband. We’ll get passed this together.
But one question remains. Will I try for another baby.
I don’t know.
I just don’t know.

All I know is that I will never get to hold this baby in my arms like I should have.
All I know is I just lost a son or a daughter.



December 6th, 2010
I don’t know why today seems to be the day, but I feel like closing this chapter. For now. Once you go through this kind of thing I don’t think you’ll ever stop worrying again. As for an update, here it goes.

I was asked to come in for more blood work on Wednesday the 10th. Even though I was told in the ER to wait 24 hours to get blood drawn again, I had to get it done less than 36 hours in between. When it was finally time to call for the results it took over one hour until they finally told me anything. It was always, “we’re still waiting on your file”, “we’re still waiting on your ultrasounds from the other hospital”, “the doctor is in surgery”, “we’ll call you back”. My husband called them twice himself. He was pissed. I was pissed. We were just devastated.

The phone rings. It’s the nurse. Again. She’s saying she’s just calling to assure me the doctor will call me back even though that the clinic is about to close, as soon as he’s out of surgery he’ll call to go over my “options”. Wow. Ok. So now I have options? I cut her off because I’m way over listening to bullshit. I need some straight answers here. So I ask her, when she says “options” that means I miscarried, right? I mean what else could it mean. She wants to answer but avoids it, so I help her out. “I know you are not allowed to tell me what’s going on but I just need to know the baby is dead or not. I just need to know NOW!” She says that I’m right, she can’t tell me, the doctor will call me. I  beg her to just at least tell me what my levels are.

From the “research” I’ve been doing over these past few days that felt like weeks I’ve known at that point that the hCG levels are supposed to double every 24-72 hours. So I figured if she tells me they went down, it’s a miscarriage. If they went up, or better yet doubled, there was still a chance.

“Your levels, let me see real quick.” Seconds sure can feel like hours when you are waiting to hear something as important as this. “Your levels went up to 34000 but it still looks like you’ve miscarried.”

Huh, what now? I don’t get it. How can they go up from 29000 to 34000 in less than 36 hours and you’re still telling me I’ve probably miscarried? Again, she assures me the doctor will call me back. I really don’t give much of a shit right now so I hang up.

Sure enough, the doctor actually calls back about 15 minutes later. No idea who he is, but he sounds nice. He’s asking me what exactly has been going on so I tell him. He’s blunt but in a comfortable kind of blunt way, if there’s even such thing. So we go over the two possibilities at hand. It is too early to find a heartbeat or I’ve miscarried. Simple as that.
Since the next day was a holiday and he was off the following day, Friday, he wanted me to wait it out until Monday and then come in to see him. By the then I would probably already know because nature would have taken its course. Expect some cramping, bleeding, clotting. If gets too bad, go to the ER, take Tylenol for the pain. Monday we’ll know more.

Way to go fucking up my birthday weekend. Well one thing’s for sure I’ll never forget my 28th birthday which was the day before I went in to the clinic again.

I think time would have gone by way faster if I actually would have had bleeding and all the other things. Other than some cramping I was fine. Well I wasn’t fine but I wasn’t going through what he’d described either.

I spent almost my entire birthday in bed. I didn’t take phone calls. I came up with excuses. I didn’t answer messages or emails. Only hearing the word “happy” made me wanna punch holes in the wall and even worse when people actually mention the baby… I felt bad for imagining how I’d hurt them because how should they have known. It’s not like we really told anyone. There was only a handful of people who knew and they were really thoughtful and I did appreciate that a lot.

I was sure glad when the day was over. I was ready to be me again. I hadn’t been myself in a week. I felt like someone had sucked the life right out of me. I wanted to function so badly. I wanted to be a wife and a mother but I couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me.

 On November 15th, I was finally seen at the OB/GYN clinic. They didn’t take anymore blood to compare to the last results. I heard one nurse ask the other if she should send me to the lab first, and the other replied “no, don’t take blood anymore.” Wow. They really don’t give me a shot at this. Bitches.

She takes vitals. She asks me the usual stupid questions. “are you feeling depressed?” Are you fucking kidding me? No I’m freaking peachy, I’m just a fucking ray of sunshine!  “Are you feeling depressed because of what’s been going on?” Ding Ding Ding!!! You just won a washer and a dryer and a smack upside the head. I know she’s trying to comfort me but come on now! Not saying anything at all would be more comforting right now.

After waiting for about ten minutes after the question and answer game the doctor finally comes in and I can put a face to the voice. Not what I expected but what the heck. I’m guessing he’s in his late 40’s, overweighed, divorced. Goodness really now? I got time for this kind of crap. Hey it’s all tactics, whatever gets me thinking of anything other than what I’m here for.

So again he wants me to tell him what’s been happening since we talked last. He nods. He nods a lot. So we go over the options. We can do a d&c, he can give me a pill or I can pass naturally. “We’re gonna talk about all that in detail, but first let’s go do one more ultrasound just to make sure. “ I guess they have to do just one more to be on “the save side”.
Did I really wanna have a baby here? With the “support” of the staff in this OB/GYN clinic who doesn’t give your baby the slightest chance of survival after what I’d call minor complications? Geeeeez.

Ok so ultrasound machine here we come. Again.

"Ok so here’s the baby." Well good to know it’s really there.

A flicker. I saw the heart flicker. In my head I am screaming “I just saw the damn heart flicker!!!” But of course he’s the doctor, not me and at this point I could almost make myself believe in seeing anything.
He touches a few buttons and goes “ok and here….” Boomboom, boomboom, boomboom, boomboom… “what do you think that is?” he asks. “I’d say that’s a fucking heartbeat!” He smiles. I cry. There’s a heartbeat. There’s a heartbeat.
“Well, I guess  we can save us the conversation we were gonna have after this. But this doesn’t mean that you’re not still miscarrying.” Wow way to go congratulating someone on a pregnancy nobody believed in. Well ok, I cut him some slack. He only heard what I told him and read what they put on my chart.

I asked to hear the heartbeat again before I left, it just wasn’t real enough. He laughed and of course let me hear again. He gave me two pictures and after a pad on my shoulder he sent me home and told me to be back in a month.

I have a week and two days left until I have to go in again. I am looking forward to it but then I don’t. Well no of course I’m looking forward to it. I’m just scared. I wake up in the morning and I’m scared. I go to bed at night and I’m scared. Any second of any given day I am scared. I’m terrified. All I can do is take one day at a time and hope for the best.

This is gonna be by far the “longest” pregnancy ever. It seems like time’s not going by at all. I wanna built a connection with my unborn child but it’s so so hard. I don’t wanna fall in love with someone I may never get to meet. Of course it’s too late for that. I’ve fallen for him/her the day I peed on that stick that told me I was pregnant.
Breathe. Let it go. Look forward. What will be will be.


I hope I will get a chance to meet you. I hope you’ll continue to fight and prove all of them wrong. Your Daddy, your brother, your sister and me, and of course a lot of other people, can’t wait to meet you!

Miracles DO happen. So never ever stop believing!








Done. Now you're somewhat caught up. And really, I know you can't really compare one with the other but I just hate waiting for good/bad news. I drives me nuts. Or how Kathryn would say "bloody bonkers". I know even if I am diagnosed with gestational diabetes it doesn't mean I'll have diabetes after little A is born. And I know it's "manageable" and there's so much out there that could really make my life a living hell but I just don't wanna have to deal with it AT ALL! And it just blows my mind sorta kinda, I've gained 4lbs ONLY and I'm 7months pregnant now. So I basically gained baby but lost fat. And still I'm at risk for gestational diabetes. WTF. Sure I know there's plenty of fat left I could or more need to get rid off but now just isn't the best time to do it.
Right now I'm not only irritated 'cause I can't eat. Oh no it's not really that.
I'm not a morning person.
Never have been, surely never will. Get over it.
But what makes my mornings somewhat tolerable is my glass of orange juice. Ask anyone who's ever had to spent a morning with me and actually loves me enough to pay attention. My husband for instance. He knows if there's no OJ in the house, you might as well start running for your life. Some people need their coffee first thing, I need OJ. So today, of course, I can't have any. I'm starving AND can't have my orangen juice. And that's not gonna change for at least 4 more hours. So add that to the fact that I woke up cranky period because I knew all of this was gonna happen, throw in the fear of being diagnoed with gestational diabetes and you have one cranky pregnant b-i-t-c-h on your hands ready to blow up in anyones face.
I truly do feel sorry for the people who have to cross paths with me today and rub me the wrong way 'cause they'll get a load of me. And I can guarantee you it's not gonna be pretty.

Sigh. Big one.

Guess it's time to get ready. It's almost 8am. Mimi has to be at Daycare at 9am so after that I'm ready to go. Well not really "ready", but I'm sure you know what I mean. Maybe I'll take my notebook as in laptop that isn't considered a laptopo 'cause it's so tiny, with me so I can write all about the funny and irritating moments ahead of me in the lab's waiting area. Sounds like a hell of a lot of fun. NOT.

I'm off. Wish me luck.


Ok. Quick update. Went to the lab at 915am after I dropped of Mimi at daycare. They did the first blood draw and then had the nerve to send me off for one hour!!! Really??? Having to sit there for 3 hours isn't enough now you make me waste another hour???? Geeeeez!
In the meantime I found out my number from friday, it was 158 :O( I was under the impression (from what I was reading online) that the cut off is 140 but I guess here it's 130 so that being said, I'm now mentally preparing myself for the bad news, meaning that I do have gestational diabetes. Guess that's better than having false hope.
Well it's 10am now so I'm gonna get ready to head back to the lab for a fun filled 3 more hours. Cross your fingers I won't puke or worse.
Later dudes ;O)

1.45pm I am finally home. I must say the whole trip wasn't as bad I had expected it. I did get a bit nauseous but other than that it all went ok. I just got really tired around noon and had troubles staying awake lol Now the waiting game is on. But like I said I'm gonna expect the worst and just see it as a change to get healthier.

BUT two things I saw today that irritated me a bit.
I saw a 3yr old drinking a coke like it was water and a 6mths old baby eating cheetos! Both given by their super moms. WTH?! I mean, really, why do you become a parent if you don't even seem to care about what your child/baby is eating or drinking? Trust me my kids eat junk, too, unfortunetely they do. But even my son who's now 8 years old doesn't get coke to drink. Why would you give a child caffeine period? That's just stupid and absolutely unneccessary!!! And cheetos for an infant (yes a child under 12mths of age is still considered an infant)??? How do you justify that? How do you justify any of that?? Yes, they weren't my kids so why worry. Well that's just the person I am. I also saw a 6 days old infant today in his carseat, his head almost touching his toes while sleeping because mommy and daddy didn't think it wasn't neccessary to get him the proper head support - they're simple wasn't any. In all cases, the parents where very young (sorry but I sat right next to the desk the entire time and they have to tell them their date of birth and I don't suck quite as bad at math as I thought I did), but ya know, so was I when I had my first child. I was 20yrs old but I still knew what it meant to be a good parent. I sure wasn't perfect nor am I perfect today, but thinks like I've just mentioned you clearly didn't find when you were around me and my baby.
Sad.

Anyway. Let me go EAT now :O)