“Life is a good teacher and a good friend. Things are always in transition, if we could only realize it. Nothing ever sums itself up in the way that we like to dream about. The off-center, in-between state is an ideal situation, a situation in which we don’t get caught, and in which we can open our hearts and minds beyond the limit.” ~ Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart

It’s been a sad, sad few days. We spent all of Saturday in bed crying, but later in the evening we drove out to Venice and drank a bottle of wine on the beach at sunset. We brought pizza and a blanket. We talked so much, reflecting on the past, healing, and planning for the future. In some ways this has helped us reevaluate certain things, brought us closer, and helped us see the future more delicately. Sunday was just as difficult. I woke up crying. I’d be okay for an hour, then I’d start crying again. We even went for a run to see if it would help the medication along, and I felt great, but after the run I was crying again. It’s just part of the grieving – you feel terrible, like nothing is okay, then you feel comforted by something, then you feel inspired, then all of a sudden you’re incredibly sad again.

This morning we went back to the fertility clinic. They did an ultrasound to see if the medication had worked and found tissue still there. I couldn’t look at it. They were sympathetic, but in some ways we were frustrated. I feel like doctors should be more upfront about miscarriage. It would be helpful if they included it in the general introduction of this whole thing, just explained that it’s a normal part of some peoples’ journeys, and what to expect if it does happen. Especially financially. For example, to get the D & C with our fertility doctor, whom we love and feel comfortable with, would be $3,000 out of pocket, as the fertility clinic doesn’t take insurance. We didn’t know this until it was actually happening. Then we started the nightmare of trying to get a D & C at Kaiser. A little head’s up would have prepared us more for this whole experience.

Anyway, I went to work and immediately met with the director of my clinic. She was amazing. I was tearful and she immediately stood up and gave me a long hug. She listened to the whole story. I told her that I almost didn’t take the job because we were TTC, and she replied that if I’d tried to decline the job because we wanted to have a baby she wouldn’t have let me. She said having a baby is a normal part of life, that lots of employees in our clinic have had pregnancy leaves. She said I could take all the time I needed this week and that she was so sorry. It was really helpful to hear all of that, and to confide that I had struggled with taking the job and getting pregnant at the same time. Yes, I’m a total teacher’s pet, but I need my boss to know how conscientious I am!

I spent a loooong time trying to get an appointment at kaiser to be evaluated for the D & C. I finally got an appointment and rushed out of work. J left her office and met me there because she’s an amazing partner. I withstood yet another vaginal ultrasound (the third in two days) and the doctor confirmed that the placenta and gestational sac were still there (thanks a lot). They scheduled a D & E (less invasive than D & C) for Thursday morning at 8 am. I threw some fits that they couldn’t do it today, but I’m too tired to get into that right now.

Then my real doctor from the fertility clinic finally called with her condolences. She explained that she had been out of town and she was so sorry. Hearing her voice made me start crying again. She suggested that since I have to wait two more days anyway, I could try taking another dose of misoprostol.

So here I am on my couch, curled up in a blanket in the middle of a Monday afternoon. I took another dose of misoprostol a couple of hours ago. I’m so nauseous. I threw up my whole dinner last night and now I feel like I might lose my lunch. My temp is elevated (99.5) and I’m shivering. Not sure what’s going on in my body but I’m sad and I’m sick and I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over.

I was pregnant. For a few weeks I was having every symptom imaginable. I felt like my whole life and in some ways my identity were changing. I was becoming a mom. A few years ago I used to imagine what it would be like to have a child and yearn for that closeness and that caretaking, to see what kinds of things my child would say and do. About a week ago I started to get excited for that again. Now it feels like I had a taste of it, making it even worse that it’s not actually happening anymore.

I know we have more chances, but that’s not the point.

On a positive note, J and I booked a bed and breakfast in Idyllwild for two weekends from now. We got a nice room with a jacuzzi tub and hiking all around. Looking forward to that is comforting.

Thank you everyone for your gracious words of kindness, your own stories, and just for being here and reading. My blogger support is really helping.

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