Scared Day II

6-24-09

I’m coming to a sort of peace with this whole situation. Somehow I fell asleep last night and had dreams of serial killers—who first looked like Jon Hamm (sexy!) and then like John Goodman (not so sexy)—stalking me until it was an either you kill me or I kill you situation. So I killed the John Goodman incarnation in the middle of SE 39th Avenue in the pouring rain. Perhaps this blew off some of the gathering steam of my panicked afternoon and evening.

Today the panic has subsided and been replaced by a general gloom. I’ve had a miscarriage. The symptoms still haven’t returned to their pre-Tuesday levels. The sooner I accept the hard, sad truth and take up my mantle as habitual aborter (the medical term for ladies who miscarry 3 or more times in a row), the better. It’s only a matter of time before the next ultrasound of doom, the next D & C, the next round of extreme alienation and teary nights in front of the TV in search of sitcom salvation. I see it in the future so clearly. So clearly that I’ll be flummoxed if next week’s planned ultrasound is anything but negative.

At Mr. Crud’s urging I call Dr. Awesome this morning. I break into sobs almost as soon as the words, “my symptoms have decreased” leave my mouth. My planned speech, constructed between sun salutations during the morning’s yoga practice, falls apart as I sniffle and slobber and attempt to calmly answer her questions about breast tenderness and nausea.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. This doesn’t necessarily mean you’re having a miscarriage. Sometimes symptoms come and go. Every pregnancy is different.” She says all the reassurances I’ve found on websites, but I feel 75% more comforted. “Nothing in your records indicates that you’ll have another miscarriage,” she says. Well, except the 2 previous miscarriages.

My options are to wait and see, to come in next Wednesday for the ultrasound as planned or to come in and take some blood tests over the next few days to monitor my hormone levels and see if they are rising or dropping. Dr. Awesome recommends waiting and seeing. An ultrasound in the clinic today wouldn’t be high resolution enough to tell much. I gather myself together and agree to wait. I don’t relish the idea of coming in for blood tests over the next few days only to have to return the following week. I can stay in this place of worst-case scenarios for a few days more.

I hang up and realize that I do feel better. I don’t really believe that nothing is wrong, but I at least feel like I’ve done something. Mr. Crud calls.

“I talked to the doctor.”

“Thank you,” he says.

I pass along her reassurances. “She says that this is all totally normal. The symptoms and how we’re reacting.”

“Oh.” Mr. Crud sounds like he’s in a tunnel or talking through a cup at the end of a string.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I just want to cry.” He says. I feel bad for dragging him along on this rollercoaster even though I know he wants to support me.

“You can cry,” I say. “You’re doing a great job.”

He is. Last night I told him that no matter what happens I still feel incredibly lucky because of him, which is no lie.

We make plans for an afternoon walk. I try not to think too much about my possible refreshed entry into Miscarriage World. I try not to think of all the people who had 2 miscarriages before having a successful pregnancy. How I want to be one of them so bad. How I do not want to join the 1% of couples who have 3 in a row. It’s going to be a long week.