Wednesday, January 21, 2015

My lucky day

Well the cramping stopped almost as soon as it started this weekend. So all was set and I headed into the office yesterday for the D&C. I caught a ride from a friend who had an equally scary doctor's appointment just down the road from mine. That way Hubs could get the girls to school, and so I could have someone to crack inappropriate jokes with so I wouldn't be so nervous.

My pal was going in to find out some news about a biopsy, so we cursed our body parts and joked about how sexy of a procedure I was about to have. She told me to ask for a DVD of the event, and to snag her an extra pair of the booties and a gown. Humor. It's how I cope.

When I got to the office they took me right back, so I texted Hubs to let him know where I'd be when he got there. He was on his way across town from dropping Sweet Pea at her "happy school." Her last preschool gave her a crazy case of anxiety, and I never could figure it out. But she'd never acted like that before so I had to trust her instincts. And sure enough since she's been at her "happy school" as she calls it, she's been perfectly fine. Although she periodically asks me if she'll have to go back to her "mean pee school." She does not.

They brought me back and gave me my super sexy gown with my fashionable cap and matching booties. I changed and sat texting ugly selfies and terribly inappropriate things to my pal sitting at her own doctor's office down the road.

If you don't have that friend who can laugh about your invention of a vaginal GoPro, I'm sorry for you. I am lucky to have several who get that if you don't laugh about these horrors you'll just lose it.

As the nurses came in and out to ask me questions about blood transfusions and what not a solemn couple walked into the pre op area holding each other. They had her put on the same sexy outfit as me, and as the nurse quietly explained the procedure from behind the curtain I knew why they were there. Same reason I was.

I'd been upbeat with the nurses, because again when I get nervous I just get verbal diarrhea. So I couldn't stop myself from cracking jokes and making light. But I knew what that couple was feeling. I've been there. I remember my own D&C six years ago. I felt like the world was black. I was numb and my heart was residing firmly in my gut.

The anesthesiologist came in and I told him my plan. I thought instead of general anesthesia I could just pop a Valium and they could issue a local anesthetic. He was the coolest guy ever and totally talked me through why that probably wouldn't work. Apparently if I so much as sneeze (which thanks to Cedar Fever is a regular thing these days) the Doc could puncture my uterus. I decided the vomiting and general crappiness of my previous anesthesia experience would be better than a holy uterus. He did however tailor my plan to minimize my barfing. Designer drugs baby.

The nursing staff and anesthesiologist were just amazing. And of course Doc was her usual wonderful self. My only hang up was when one nurse asked the anesthesiologist how his baby was. He said she's fine, but the nurse pressed on talking about her own grandbabies and how silly babies are and what a pain they can be. Right in front of the grieving couple. I know she didn't think about it, because that nurse has probably never been in the sexy gown waiting to have her child forcibly removed. But I have, and I knew. I loudly cleared my throat and told the nurse I had a quick question. She stopped midsentence as I asked a dumb question about recovery time.

Minutes later they took the girl back, and her husband clutched her jacket as the nurse escorted him to the waiting room.

Hubs finally arrived just in time for my IV. I chatted the nurse up as she took blood and inserted the IV. I told her about how I'd probably grab some Arby's after this whole ordeal because I was freaking hungry. That no food or drink after midnight policy is fine if your procedure is at 7:30 a.m. But it was rounding 11 a.m. and I hadn't had so much as a donut hole.

She finished up and injected the anti-barf medicine. Doc rounded the corner, and as she smiled and asked how I was doing the room started spinning and started to get pretty dark. My stomach churned and I said "I'm so sorry but I think I'm about to black out." They grabbed the smelling salts and a cold rag and tried to bring me back to normal. I couldn't figure out what the heck?!

Hubs said I always do that when I get stuck, but it's so not true. Not since I had my first born. Yes I used to pass out when I gave blood, but ever since I birthed a human my tolerance went up. I've been stuck a million times throughout this IVF journey, so I know it wasn't the needle. After a few minutes I came around and felt completely normal, so all I can figure is that I was weak from hunger and that IV pushed me over the edge.

The anesthesiologist came and injected some fluid in my IV that he said is "the good stuff". And I guess he was right because as they wheeled me into the OR the room was dancing in a good way and I felt pretty darn good. And that's all I remember until I woke up 15 minutes later in recovery.

I'm happy to report that my IV drama was the worst part of the whole thing. I woke up groggy, but it was easy to wake up and I didn't even upchuck. That anesthesia guy knows his drugs and must have mixed just the right cocktail for me. In a few minutes I got up and got dressed and went to get some Arby's with the Hubs.

I came home and downed the Beef 'n Cheddar. Chased it with some curly fries and a jamocha shake and I freaking slept. I crashed out in bed and didn't wake up until Hubs came home with the girls several hours later. He got Sunshine off to gymnastics and I slept a little more and caught up on an episode of Once Upon a Time.

Once they got home I felt like I'd just had a fabulous nap, so I got up and preheated the oven for the TANTALIZING dinner my good pal Heather brought us. It was baked ziti with salad and bread and oh my word it was amazing.

Mom came over straight after work to check on me. It was a much better greeting than my first D&C. When she saw me having such a hard time after my first, they had to bring the stretcher for her because she nearly passed out. This was much better.

I chilled out with the family the rest of the night, and as I drifted off to sleep in between my two sweet girls I thought about how lucky I really am.

Miscarriage is an ugly business. It's unfair and it's horrible. And a D&C is basically like attending a funeral for a teeny person. Before Hubs got there I sat in silence and said a little goodbye to the wee babe in my womb. I feel lucky to have carried him even for a short while. I'm lucky I got to at least see his little heart beating if for only a moment. I'm honored to have cared for him for the very very short time he was alive. And he's lucky to have such lovely parents that loved him with their whole hearts. He will forever have a little box with the only baby pictures they'll ever get. But he was real and he mattered. And he will forever hold a little place in my heart.

I breathed in the sweet smell of my own baby's hair as she slept quietly on my arm. Again it's hard to make sense of miscarriage, but I have always believed there's a reason for everything. My own miscarriage led me to help my sweet Baby Mama. And I think this miscarriage serves to remind me to be thankful every single day for what I have. I can't say I wasn't nervous about not waking up from the procedure. I know it's a miniscule risk, but as I kissed my kids goodbye that morning I thought about what a lucky girl I am to have them. I was reminded not to wish these days away. The toddler years are so trying. It's lots of poop and barf and messes and sticky hands and broken crayons smashed into the floor. But I have once again been reminded to be thankful for every blinking moment of it. I'm beyond lucky to kiss those sticky hands and for the priceless art that has come from those broken crayons.

I also realized how lucky I am to have so many caring people in my life. I had friends ready to take me to my appointment, take my kids to school, pick them up, bring me food, take me for a pedicure and just about everything else I could need. Even my furry friend didn't leave my side from the moment I got back home. 

My rockin' husband had a flawless performance of school shuttling and hair brushing and leotards. He might seem like a rough and tumble manly man, but that fella hands down does a better pony tail than I do.

And today I feel fine. I'm thoroughly convinced that my last D&C was so bad because of the combo of blood loss, crappy overkill anesthesia and heartache. I feel 100% back to normal today, and for that I am thankful.

It truly is my lucky day.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Hostage Situation

Damnit Uterus! Well the party started rockin' on New Year's Eve, but my friggin' uterus just thought we were doing a regular ol' cycle. I never had intense cramping. I started spotting, got a heavier flow (enjoy that word?), then spotted off into nothing. Derp Derp just regular ol' aunt flo!

My agency coordinator did a little prodding with the transfer clinic to get an ultrasound to see What The Actual Eff. So they sent orders and I went in on a Friday for my ultrasound. I had plans to visit Baby Mama the next day, so I was hoping all was well and we could have some closure on the subject.

But as the doc waved the magical weenie wand all up in there we saw the sac clear as day. There it was in all its glory just chillin' in the lounge that is my uterus. She asked before she started if I'd had any bleeding at all and I told her yeah, but either I got away with the easiest miscarriage ever (if there is such a thing) or I didn't actually pass anything significant. And as we soon found out I hadn't passed a daggum thing. My uterus is about as good at cleaning house as I am.

She measured the sac and it was looking like 6weeks4days. I was supposed to be around 10 weeks. I don't know why that gave me some closure but it did. With my own miscarriage I always had a nagging feeling that maybe just maybe maaaaaaaayyyyyybbbbeeee there was a chance that the ultrasounds were wrong. But with this one I feel very confident that they were sadly right.

As I sat up, Doc said she'd send the results, but the next steps were probably going to be a D&C or cytotec. I cringed because both sound like hell. Cytotec has some TERRIBLE horror stories, and knowing my hoarder uterus I'd probably end up with a D&C anyway. So I knew what my only other option was going to have to be. Damnit. Damnit.

The transfer clinic came back with a big fat Sorry Charlie on anything but a D&C. They said to schedule the procedure for the next week or so, and farewell. The ball is now in my court. They're officially done-zo with my uterus and its contents. Good riddance. Not sure if it was hormones, but they'd rubbed me the wrong way about the loss. They seemed so cold and...well clinical. And I think there's more to reproductive technology than numbers and ultrasounds and facts and figures. There are real people with real emotions and feelings. I wanted a less clinical approach from the clinic.

Whatevs. Moving on!

I scheduled my D&C for Tuesday with the Doc who has been monitoring me on this journey. I'm in lady love with her, and she seems to have the most vested interest in my uterus since she'll most likely be the one transferring the next baby in there.

Truthfully I'm nervous about the D&C. My first experience with one wasn't a happy one, although I'm sure no D&C is super chipper. But because my twin sacs were so big and there were two of them it was a lot more than my doc was prepared for and I almost bled out in the OR. Pair that with my intolerance for anesthesia and it was a really rough go. I remember them trying to bring me out of the anesthesia and thinking "I can't. I can't wake up." I was throwing up like crazy as they waved smelling salts under my nose and I fell in and out of consciousness. It was pretty scary.

I'm sure this round will go better though. There's only one sac for starters, and this one is only a 6 week sac rather than two 13 week sacs. I remembered being in bed for a few days after mine, but for the life of me I couldn't remember if it was because I lost too much blood or I was in pain or if I was just emotionally wrecked. I think it was mostly emotions.

This time I'm ok. Maybe I just have perspective. When I miscarried my babies I never knew if I would ever be a mother. I felt the blow of a loss with no real evidence that I'd ever feel the happiness of holding a baby. I never knew if that pain would stop.

But this miscarriage has been very different from my own. With my own I felt like I was drowning in sadness and loss. I wanted answers that would never come, and I didn't know to hope. With this one I feel more frustration. Of course I'm sad for Baby Mama and Baby Daddy. But I'm also so damn frustrated. We saw that freakin' heartbeat. Everything should have been okay. It's just not fair. I'm angry that everything wasn't okay, because those two people deserve for it to be okay. They didn't deserve this.

Each night as I'm putting her to bed, Sunshine likes to bring up obscure topics. Things weighing on her mind. Last night, with a very serious face, asked if her 5-year-old best friend would carry a baby for her if her "lady parts didn't work." I told her I'd ask, but that she doesn't have to think about that for a long time. I think she looks up to Baby Mama and wants to be like her because she rescues animals. It also touches my heart to see that she sees the importance of what we are doing. She realizes it could just as easily be any of us that needs help completing our families.

Well I hadn't had so much as a cramp since I stopped spotting over a week ago. Then today I noticed the tiniest spot. I'm giving my uterus two more days to get her shit together and do some spring cleaning. This is it uterus. We can do it my way or we can do it the hard way. I hope she does it my way.

I promise I'll give you another chance! Just let this hostage go.