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 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.
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.
Comments
Post a Comment