Once it was situated and the tech began snapping and measuring I was a nervous wreck. Once she got to the "main event," she explained to us that the fetus was not measuring as expected. Based on the size, it was only six weeks instead of eight and there was no measurable heart beat.
They ushered S & I into a room to meet with the doctor, even though I wasn't scheduled for it until the next week. The nurse went through the motions, taking my blood pressure and what not. She noted that my blood pressure was high... Ya think? I was a wound up ball-o-stress! Once the doc finally arrived she explained there were two possibilities. One, I had my dates wrong. After the whole bathtub event, I was pretty sure that was not the case. But maybe I had been hearing things...? I held out hope. Two, I had miscarried. Since I had not experienced any symptoms, they were going to schedule another ultrasound for the following week and see if there was any change.
That was not a good evening. I went home (well I didn't make it until I was home...the parking lot would be more accurate...) and fell apart. I curled up and cried. A lot. The following week, I'm pretty sure was completed in zombie mode. Jumping every time I felt anything. But still, nothing happened.
The second ultrasound, as I figured (but desperately hoped against), went very much the same. No heartbeat, no growth, no outward symptoms, ushered into a room to meet with the doctor.
The doctor explained that miscarriages are extremely common. 1 in 7 pregnancies end in miscarriage for all sort of reasons. I was experiencing a "silent miscarriage." This is when you have miscarriage, but your body does not recognize this fact, and carries on with the pregnancy, hormones, cravings & all. I was given options to take care of it. 1. I could get a D&C, which would require going under anesthesia and surgically removing everything. 2. I could wait it out until my body decided to get on board and take care of it. 3. There are prescription pills that could be taken to educe and speed along the natural process.
Not really wanting to have to worry about going under, and since my body hadn't done its job in the 3 weeks already, I went with option 3. That gave me the remainder of the week to mentally prepare & the weekend to recover. I figured I could fill my prescription (which came with Vicodin "Just in case...") just before the weekend.
My body, had different plans, again. After an very uncomfortable drive home from the climbing gym one day, I was never more happy to see home. At first it was uncomfortable, then it became painful, eventually I became a yelling, screaming, crying, cussing, stomping, pleading, begging mess.
S was scrambling to do something. He called the doctor, who called the pharmacy so that he could go pick up my prescriptions (since who knows where my paper copy was, and I was no help). Finally he returned. I eagerly accepted anything to make it better (although, I drew the line at crushing it as snorting it as suggested).
Eventually, after uncountable hours of yelling, pleading, begging, stomping, etc. I was able to leave the shower floor where I had been residing & move to the bedroom. It is still came and went, but I was eventually able to move into a fitful sleep.
Not a process I would ever like to repeat. But it did teach me 3 very valuable lessons. 1. If you are given a prescription for Vicodin, fill it ASAP "Just in case." 2. If there is ever a next time, I will be unconscious for this process. 3. I will not be having a natural child birth. Drugs, drugs & more drugs please.
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