The Doc kept saying things like "so you think you've had a miscarriage" "so you passed a clot?" No, I don't think I had a miscarriage, I did have one. My uterus went "squeeze" and my nerves went "ow" and the in-tact, multi-colored and textured capsule of dead baby went "splot" in my underpants. I held it for a while, showed it to my husband (the nurse) we consulted his maternity nursing text book, the one the nurse who hasn't bothered to check in yet also read, and now we're here because it's procedure. The reason I'm not freaking out or a big mess is that I don't tend to have big emotional reactions in front of people I don't know, and the bigger something is, the less you'll know about it because I play the important cards closer to the breast. So fuck you, I'm here because I'm supposed to be even though I don't want to be and really don't need to be. You have a problem with that? Take it up with the other doctors who write this shit.
I said that on the inside, later. At the time I was too tired and getting kind of pissed that clever coherent rants were hard to come by. The next day I went to my already scheduled primary care appt., originally to check my thyroid (turns out it's fine, pregnancy just makes it do more) and for the first time since I got pregnant I had a health care person in front of me who wasn't insulting or a noob. The midwife clinic I went to had students doing most of the hands on stuff, two weeks later my arms are *still* bruised where they tried to draw blood. We took another reading with a frightfully efficient phlebotamist whom I complimented on the best draw I'd had in weeks.
Went home, cramped some more, passed the placenta, put it in the freezer next to the baby while I rested enough to build a boat out of foil and plaster so Peter and I could have a viking funeral. The next day or the one after, we took lots of cedar sticks and made a pyre on the boat, then put the boat into this vessle with some water in the backyard. A few rose petals and salvia flowers on the grass made it pretty and we sent the little one along into the smoke and air.
I laid low for a while because the attention was a little overwhelming. Sometimes I feel like I'm supposed to have the reaction people expect and it's always a little awkward when I don't. Ya, I'm bummed that didn't work out, but I'd suspected something for a while. Even the heartbeat didn't convince me that the spotting was completely innocent. So when someone was like "oh my god I'm so sorry, how sad for you" it was like "well, yes, that sucked but I'm pretty over it now. I still have moments where I wish it would have worked out, but these things all happen for a reason, it'll work when it's time, in the meantime I've got stuff to do"
It was one of the few moments that I have ever actually hated my body. I don't care if my ass is big, I can do something about that if I really wanted to. But this whole "not supporting life" thing is starting to grate. I'll give it one more try before we go in and start testing for non-obvious reasons, as everything seems to look fine inside and out. I'm better now, I don't have the constitution for a serious grudge, I get that things weren't right, that when the guys upstairs get their acts in order and someone's ready to make a go of it, it'll match up.
The hardest part has been remembering that I have to heal at the speed of chemistry. That just because I'm rationally ok with things, the hormones still have to sort themselves out and find their level again. Just as I was starting to get some of my energy back I was hit with a wave of depression that was more annoying than anything else. I wasn't sad, I was depressed, the muting and absence of sensation and feeling. I had no motivation and didn't care about it. It took a while for that to pass and it was an interesting reminder that my body will do things at its own pace and it doesn't really care what I have to do today.
I've never really wallowed in feeling down, I don't really get people who do. I start thinking about the things I can do now that the timetable has been reset and it's not all bad. There were a few things I was hoping to get to before I got pregnant and now I've got another month at least before we start trying again. I may be able to lift boxes when we move, I won't have a fresh infant on my hip while feeding pros at NWC next year (though I may be a hippo), and I don't have to cut my MSFT contract short yet. I'll also be able to go to Critical Massive and not worry about people using my cooler or making some of the adjustments that go along with camping for a week while pregnant.
Yes, I find silver linings if i have to hunt them down and nail them on. Finding good in bad and not living in yesterday is how we survived growing up. I'm not entirely convinced it's not still a useful coping mechanism, especially when I'm taking time to honor and acknowledge the bad and then move on. "Nope that didn't happen" has issues. "Yup, that happened and it sucked, what's next?" seems fine to me. Though it does still smart when my other pg friend shows off her baby clothes that are so adorable. I'm only human.
