This post is named for one of my all-time favorite songs by Alix Olsen, an incredible lesbian feminist slam poet and artist.

*TMI and threatened miscarriage mentioned

The last 24 hours have been so heart-wrenching, confusing, and exhausting. I spent the weekend engrossed in morning sickness, waking up at 3am to throw up, throwing up before we went out Saturday night, throwing up after lunch in Sunday. It was reassuring but so nasty! I was also exhausted, taking naps throughout the day. Sunday night I gave in and took unisom and B6 so that I could function at work Monday.

Yesterday the sickness was definitely better, but I was still so tired. I could barely shower and eat dinner after work. Once we were settled on the couch watching Intervention (our latest obsession), I went to the bathroom and found blood. A lot. I called J and she looked at it and we decided it was just the hematoma. A few minutes later, however, I felt it gushing. It was literally dripping out of me. J called the after-hours nurses line and we WAITED forty-five minutes for the nurse to call us back, only to ask me my symptoms and confirm we should go to the ER, which is what I was planning to do anyway. At the ER, we WAITED over an hour, were triaged, then told there were seven people more urgent ahead of me, possibly another two-hour WAIT. I went to the nurse’s station to tell the check-in nurse that we were leaving. He said, and I quote, “Well, if you want me to be honest with you, if you’re bleeding that much before twenty weeks, it’s probably a miscarriage.” I was floored. I snapped at him that I have a hematoma and that’s actually not necessarily true, then realized I was talking to a man who thought it was okay to say what he said in the first place. A casual, heartless, asshole thing to say that didn’t require a response. Let me just point out, not that I have to, that a female nurse would never say such a thing. On the way to the parking garage I burst into tears. I felt like I was starting to dread, to morn, to have the feeling of finding out about a miscarriage.

We somehow went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night still bleeding out clots. Today I WAITED through an absolutely mandatory all-day training. My psychologist license expires at the end of this month and I needed the in-person CEUs to renew it. On the way there, I talked to a Kaiser nurse who scheduled me mercilessly for a 4:00pm ultrasound. The training was excellent, thank goodness, and it kept me somewhat distracted all day. A lunch I explained what was happening to the LA DMH training facilitator what was happening, and she was sympathetic but told me she wasn’t comfortable giving me the CEU certificate if I left the training, so I forced myself to stay until the end, more WAITING. She also told me about her own miscarriage (thanks, I really needed to hear that right then).

Traffic on the 110 to Kaiser was horrific; basically, stopped most of the way. By that time I was resigned, knowing I was late, baby may or not be inside me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about either but WAIT.

My phone died. J had called me on the freeway to say she was there waiting for me, but at the medical office I couldn’t find her. I asked the nurses frantically if they could contact her, but they couldn’t find or get ahold of her cell either. The nurse put me in the exam room to WAIT for the doctor and I finally lost it, just say there crying. I’d held it together all day, put on a nice outfit and make-up, found a nice sandwich shop for lunch, participated throughout the training. I let myself go. The nurse and doctor finally came in and I explained why I was freaking out, then as he was about to put the ultrasound wand in, J knocked on the door and rushed in. He put the wand in and there was my baby, heart throbbing, and bigger than last week. Sweet relief, more tears; the waiting was over.

Fetal heart rate is 171 today. Measurement 8.5 weeks, exactly where we should be.

I still feel amped up, like something scary is happening. It was a long time to not know what was going on. The doctor explained that every time I have a bleed that bad, the only way to know that the baby is okay is to have an ultrasound. He also said that having so much blood with clotting and cramps is normal for a hematoma, and I may bleed again.

At least I know what to expect if it happens again. The first time it happened, at six weeks, I also had cramping, but this time was somehow scarier. We’d graduated from the fertility clinic and I just wasn’t expecting it, and it was more blood than I’d had previously. Before we left the office, J said something very wise, that we’d already had to go through one real miscarriage, let’s not feel like we’re having another one until it really happens.

Here I am, back on the couch, trying to calm down. Checking my pulse, looking at pictures of the baby’s pulse. I want to start enjoying this pregnancy and getting excited, but I guess at this point, just staying calm for a few days will be a step in the right direction.

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