Postpartum Poetry

Ok, so what's wrong with me....(It's kind of long. I know. Sorry.)

Well, actually I didn't think much was wrong with me. I was 10 weeks pregnant on Saturday. I was feeling the nausea off and on, my pants were feeling tighter. I can't say that my boobs were getting bigger, but the hope was there. I had my first doctor's appointment yesterday morning. Usually I go when I am about 6-8 weeks, but with my husband getting a new job, we didn't have insurance until June 1, and since my doctor only works on our side of town on Tuesdays, I booked an appointment for the first Tuesday in June, the 7th.

So, I was excited to go. My husband worked from home so he could watch the kids. I have to say that I had been nervous about the whole pregnancy for the past 6 weeks, but I passed it off as just normal first trimester nervousness. I had morning sickness, although not as bad as some previous pregnancies, but enough to slow me down a little bit and excuse myself to watch TV instead of clean. It was one day last week that I had a minor/possibly major panic attack that something was wrong. On Wednesday I didn't have any morning sickness all day. I was for sure that my pregnancy was ending. I wallowed in self-pity all day and did too much unnecessary Google searches to throw me in a further panic. Then for some strange reason the nurse, whom I've known for 11 years, from my doctor's office randomly calls me. She congratulated me and said she was looking forward to seeing me the following week. She asked me how I was doing and I broke down crying. I told her everything and she wouldn't let me talk negatively. She said we were going to think positive until my appointment on Tuesday.

I took her advice and got on with my day without anymore Google searches.  My husband was gone at work and wasn't going to be home until 9PM that day. He told me that he had prayed that I would have a good day. I kindly told him to not pray that I would feel ok, because I wanted to feel bad. Morning sickness was comforting to me. The morning sickness returned a couple days later and I managed to make it through the weekend without any anxiety.

So yesterday the ultrasound tech brought me to the dark room and had me sit on the table and she told me that it's always nice when patients come in a little later than the typical 8 weeks because they can see so much more. I briefly told her about my panic attack and paranoia. She began the sonogram and said my gestational sac was measuring small and that perhaps I had my dates off. However, I was measuring four weeks too small. I think she knew I wasn't falling for "you must have your dates off", but that was what she was trained to say. The rest of the sonogram appointment was very silent. I was hoping I would wake up in my own bed to the sound of an alarm telling me to get up for my 10 week doctor's appointment. But it was real. I could definitely feel the cold jelly on my belly as she poked and prodded the ultrasound thingy to see my uterus and ovaries. I finally broke the silence. "There's nothing there, is there?" She gravely said, "no." She told me that my doctor would talk to me and perhaps order some blood work to help better date the pregnancy." Again, I think it was something she was trained to say.

She had me go to the bathroom to pee in a cup, and then she escorted me to sit on some chairs while I waited for the nurse to come get me. It was slightly torturous to sit a patient that thought she was pregnant, but was carrying an empty gestational sac, in front of a bulletin board of a bunch of pictures of new moms with their new babies in the hospital. But I reminded myself that I have seven wonderful children at home for which to be grateful, and that I was once one of those moms rejoicing over a sweet baby.

The nurse came to get me. She was enthusiastic until she saw the tears streaming down my face. She promptly got me some tissue, spoke with the sonogram technician, and brought me to a room to take my blood pressure and weight. We talked a bit, but it wasn't the usual upbeat conversation. The whole situation was a little awkward because she was also training a new nurse. She brought me to my doctor's office, not an exam room. He came in moments later to discuss the situation. There wasn't too much to discuss, but he confirmed that the pregnancy was not viable and he labeled it a "blighted ovum." He suggested to see if it would naturally abort and to come back in two weeks. If it doesn't naturally abort we would discuss a D&C.

I asked some questions like, "What is wrong with me?" and he assured me that I was fine. He rattled off some reasons that things like this can happen and I think I heard him mumble "age" but I'm not totally sure or maybe my ears refused to hear it. He also mentioned "bad luck." I stuck with the bad luck explanation. I stifled the tears while I booked my next appointment at checkout and walked to my car dreading calling my husband to tell him the devasting news. I drove home with sadness.

I cried off and on all day. There is no avoiding the emotions that come along with loss. There is always some degree of mourning no matter how big or small the loss. I have grieved the spectrum of loss from my own mother to my Arizona piggy bank. Some loss is more painful than others. Even though I don't quite know if I was even pregnant, I still mourn the loss of what could've been and the four weeks that I've felt nauseous for no reason.

I started spotting yesterday evening. I've had some minor cramping and more bleeding today, but not enough to change my pad. I'm hoping to just get it over with soon. If not, patience is a virtue and I will become more virtuous. I've been through this all before in December 2008 and May 2009 along with one miscarriage before my first child, Emily. I've also had two chemical pregnancies. One was in November 2008 before the two miscarriages before George,and one was in February of this year. When the the nurse updated my chart, she added one more to my gravidas to a total of 12. (I didn't go to the doctor for one of my chemical pregnancies because it was so early and not a big deal. I basically had a faint positive pregnancy test and got my period on the day I was supposed to get it. If I hadn't taken a test so early, I never would've suspected.)

Sometimes emotional pain can really make you dig deep inside yourself. Some like to express their pain by creating a song. Some create prose. Mimes like to use movement. I like to express my grief in poetry. So I'll leave you with my heartfelt epitaphs dedicated to my sweet Blighted Ovum. He/She will be missed (Sniff):

I would like to put a thank you out to www.rhymebrain.com for assisting me with this poetry. (They also have assistance with alliteration. Very awesome. Rhyme Brain is my new best friend.) And, yes, I spent WAY too much time on this today, but it was therapeutic. And in case you didn't know, not a whole lot rhymes with Ovum.

Ya'll, I'll be fine. My doctor said to give it one regular mentrual cycle and to go for it again. I think next time I might keep you in the loop along the way. It will be a little more like reality blogging with all the drama that way. I was afraid if I announced being pregnant too soon on my blog that I might jinx it, but it's proven that it isn't the case. Blighted Ovums are jinxed whether you blog about them or not.