Loss...

They say when life gives you lemons to make lemonade. What if instead life drowns you in the blink of an eye with rotten lemons? That was this past weekend. For most of you reading this, you were not aware of the fact that M and I have been dealing with a pregnancy issue the last almost 2 weeks. After two negative home tests we still were not sure. I was having too many of the classic symptoms, text book almost. Perhaps I should have listened to that. *Shrugs* I made an appointment with the Doctors that was set for today and was mentally preparing myself for another “No.” I did not want to get excited over this as I’ve had issues in the past. I have PolyCystic Ovarian Syndrome. I had already been told that my chances of getting pregnant were extremely minimal to almost non-existant. But, deep down…I was ecstatic. Towards the end of the week last week I was beginning to acclimate myself to the fact that it was 99.9% sure. I had found myself rubbing over my stomach and grinning like the cheshire cat…when alone mind you. M and I began discussing names and trying to plan but not plan…if that makes sense. I still could not fully give in to that “OMG WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!” feeling that was internally eatting at me. I had even began affectionately referring to it as Bean. (M was adament that would NOT be sticking lol.)

Friday started off all wrong. I woke with this ungodly bad feeling in my stomach. I was emotionally off and no matter what, the day seemed to just get worse as the minutes ticked by. I cried almost all day off and on. After lunch I received news from M on an offer he had received. It’s a good offer, one which would give him a good start on his career. It would keep him in Florida much longer though…which given what we both knew was coming on Monday…would create a problem. It would leave me here during the pregnancy and most of the baby’s first year alone…without him. I suddenly saw myself and the baby as a hinderance to him. It literally broke my heart because I knew I could not let him throw what he’d worked so hard to achieve the last few years at school. For a split second, I regretted the possibility of being pregnant. I allowed myself to get too worked up, dropped my sugar well below where it should be and had to struggle to keep from hyperventilating. It was a double edged sword and either way I looked at it…just wasn’t good.

By that evening, a dull cramping began setting in. It started out as the feeling of my stomach muscles down in my lower abdomen were tightening up…almost like when you’ve done way too many crunches. There were small spasms and I attributed it to the stress and all from during the day. In hindsight, I probably should have gone to the hospital I’d guess. Instead, I stayed up late then went to bed. I woke Saturday morning to find the cramping had increased…a lot. I called the doctor’s office and thank god he was there. He advised me that, if I were indeed pregnant, cramping was often normal, to keep an eye on it, don’t go doing anything strenuous and that if the cramping should get worse or spotting occurred to give him a call. I went on about my business, writing my email then setting off to do my stuff to get ready for my party that night. I got the call from one of my sisters that my mother was having a seizure, paramedics were on the way and they would be going to the hospital. My mother didn’t have a history of seizures. So much for taking it easy right? Despite the fact that my cramps were indeed getting a little more uncomfortable than they had been, I rushed to get out the house and get to the hospital.

I spent most of my day there with my mom and sisters, not letting my cramping get to me. By Saturday night, when I was home, I began to suspect what was going on. There was no spotting, at least not until roughly about 5 am. It was faint, incredibly so…so I let it ride and went back to sleep. I was so incredibly sleepy despite the pain. By the time I woke on Sunday morning for Church, the pain had increased and so had the spotting. I called my doctor as I knew he was on call for the weekend. He knew about my mom at this point (he’s like the family OB…kinky I know.) He said he wanted me to come in to see him when I got to the hospital…

I found out at 9:45 am on April 11, 2010 that I was indeed pregnant but at the same time was told that because of the blood test done on Friday, the cramping and bleeding I was getting was what I feared the worse. My hormone levels were not where they should be to sustain a pregnancy and my HcG levels were not where they should be either…they were just barely registering a positive pregnancy. My exam at the hospital officially confirmed that I was indeed miscarrying. At only 4 weeks and 1 day, Bean was gone…

Over the last two days, I’ve gone through a lot of self blame, searching for a reason or an answer. I haven’t found one. Sometimes the pain in my chest is almost unbearable. My hand still occassionaly stray down and the tears start all over again. Work has been hard to concentrate on and keeping up the calm, cool and collected daughter that my mom knows is hard. She is home now but is not quite ready health wise to hear the news. M has been his usual self, always the pillar of strength. He’s been incredibly reassuring and to repay him…I’ve snapped at him. I don’t mean to and really…it just hurts worse when I do it. He doesn’t really understand my feelings on this because…well…I don’t know why. I don’t understand the lack of…He’s trying to do what he thinks is best for us, for me and struggling because he can’t just fix it. Unfortunately he can not…a mother’s grief is not easily fixed. Bean may not have made it to a point of officially hearing a heart beat, he may not have had arms and legs…but he still had a heart.

I know…you cynical people are sitting there thinking “well it didn’t even have a determined sex yet.” To you, I say shut up and go read something else. To me, HE and yes…I know without a doubt in my heart it was a boy…was just as much alive as my 6 year old.

So…that is where I am right now. Angry, hurting beyond belief, feeling alone and lost, confused. I’m trying to keep it together but at times I find myself losing that battle. The doctor gave me pills to help but…I’ve never been one for drugs and really..they just make me feel numb. I need to be able to get myself over this grief…and I know I will. I did with my Dad’s death, I will with this death too. M says we will get through this and be better for it. I know he is right… Just…sometimes one wonders when you feel like the pain is suffocating you….