So, I've been procrastinating on this post, because this is the tough one. This won't be the last one, because I do want to end on a more uplifting note and we received so much love and support afterward. This post is going to be pretty much just facts about what happened.
We went to our ten week OB appointment, and I was about ten weeks, two days. When we got there we met with a nurse for a while and she took all kinds of information from us. After that we went to the exam room. Our doctor came in and asked how I was feeling. I told her I hadn't really been having any morning sickness, and she asked if that concerned me, and I said that I did. I was surprised that her response was intuitive enough to ask how the lack of that symptom made me feel. She turned on the ultrasound machine, and she could see the baby, but couldn't get a very good view. Eventually she decided she needed me to drink more water to get a better picture. I drank the water, and she came back in, and we could see the baby, but the baby wasn't moving. We didn't see a heartbeat, and the baby looked much smaller than what we should have seen. I had been having zero symptoms of a miscarriage.
Then my doctor starting using words like D&C. I was kind of in shock. Our doctor wanted to have confirmation from a more advanced ultrasound machine, and so they went to bat for us on a late Thursday afternoon to make sure someone could squeeze us in that day to confirm. I was so thankful we would have a definite answer that day, and so thankful for the compassion of my doctor and staff. The hospital agreed to fit us in, and it was there that my emotions took over. I am so glad they sent us to have a second ultrasound, so I had two machines and no doubt that there was no heartbeat. The hospital was measuring our baby at about eight weeks, two days, which was about two weeks smaller than what should have been.
We went back from the hospital to our doctor's office, and our nurse was so compassionate. She hugged me, answered all my questions, and set up our procedure for that Monday - which was just shy of the eleven week mark. Mark and I were going to St. Louis that weekend with friends, but they told me I needed to stay close over the weekend, and we had to cancel our trip. We went home and told our family and friends that knew, and I got in the shower an bawled my eyes out.
I went in to my pre-op on Friday, which was much more awful than I was expecting. I thought I would be okay to go by myself, but in hindsight, I should have had someone stay with me. I met with the lab, anesthesiology, and at least one other person before it was all said and done. It was just a little too much.
The procedure on Monday went as well as could be expected, and thankfully, I didn't have any complications. Physically I healed pretty quickly and didn't have much pain overall. Afterward I had pretty much zero control over my emotions, as I'm sure my hormones were on some kind of elaborate roller coaster. I tried to go back to work too soon on Wednesday for a partial day, and had a major meltdown and went back home a few hours later. Hindsight is always 20/20, isn't it?
I did go back to work for real, had my post op appointment a couple weeks later, and am in good shape. However, it has taken me three months to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. This week was the first week I hit it. I am very glad for that.
So, those are nuts and bolts. However, we were showered with love, prayer, and support, and I want to highlight that on my next post.