I promise that I posted right after my appointment yesterday. It was full of doubt, hope and stress. But almost as if Blogger had a crystal ball to the future, knowing that the update would be noll and void by morning, it crashed. A half hour of articulate thoughts washed away with a click of a button and for the next 24 hours Blogger has been down. I considered just emailing everyone individually, but bedrest is very exhausting and after the thought came to me I fell asleep. Upon waking up I discovered that Blogger was finally back online. So, here we go again. I can't promise the witty update like I did yesterday. My wittiness can be compared to that of a shooting star.
The doctor's appointment showed a great deal of promise: A closed OS and dark brown leftover blood....all looked good. They took blood, told me to take Aspirin and come back on Monday to take more blood. The doctor felt hopeful, I felt doubtful, D felt stressful. In the end I guess I won. Like a replaying of a bad movie, I woke up this morning to that horrible feeling of blood. I immediately ran into the bathroom where my fears once again were confirmed. Numbness, disbelief, shock and a feeling I didn't have last time, anger. Anger because everyone in the medical community and around me said how the first time was just fluke.
"You'll pregnant again and be just fine" they would say. "We won't even talk about another miscarriage".
Aaaargh. And then the anger at everything and everyone who gets to get pregnant without having to deal with this. Yes, I know, that is an actively stupid thought, it does me no good. And of course it is such a unrealistic anger. I do realize these things. But when you are laying in bed miscarrying for the second time the last thing you worry about is unrealistic anger. All you know is how badly you want to be a parent and how shitty it is that you are bleeding out a second pregnancy and there is not a damn thing you can do about. And no, I don't care that I am only a couple of weeks pregant, I am pregnant and that is how I want it to stay for the next 35 weeks.
D decided to stay home with me today. I told him not to but he knows me better that I give him credit for. We moved into the front room as I just sat sobbing, what the hell else am I going to do? But, I do notice one thing that is different than the last miscarriage, my boobs still hurt....real bad. I think, "Now, now, don't get hopeful, you know what hope does to you". No matter how much I try to will myself not to, I can't stop it, I so badly want to believe that this time I won't miscarry, that this time it will be prevented. I go into the bathroom to do what has become a ritual of some sorts around here, a blood check and to my surprise, there is no more blood. An a half hour later we do it again, still, just small traces and the color is even more hopeful, brown...this is good...brown means old blood, red means fresh blood. We sit anxiously waiting for 9:00 a.m. to hit because I refuse to call my doctor on the emergency number when I know that the office will be opening in 45 minutes. I am so stubborn. So, we sit, D pretends to be a thug rapper because, even when I try not to, a crack up laughing, it's just to hysterical. He does his best to make me smile. And during this process he finally admits that all optimism he had has left his body. I warned him, stay married to me any hope that you might have had that all things will work out will be stomped out. He's married to a *****, that is just reality. He says that his folks balance him out because they still live in a world where when they pray, God actually hears them and clears a smooth, open path. I sadly explain to D that he to has now been blacklisted, that's what happens when you marry a *****.
Now, I pause to let all of you know that I wish and pray that the above statement wasn't true and at times I try to believe that God isn't picking on me. I really do want to see a potentially bad thing turn into a good thing. Yes, I desperately want a miracle. But, I can't hold my breath any longer because I only end up passing out waiting.
9:00 a.m. finally comes and I nervously make the call. I am nervous because I know that I am the strange paranoid patient that they talk about at the end of the day. The girl who sees blood and calls hysterically. Therefore each time I remind the lady that I just miscarried 4 weeks ago and I really don't want to miscarry again and continue to apologize that I keep calling. She says she'll give the doctor the message, he then promptly calls me back and I go back over the same litany I just gave his secretary. He again feels hopeful, and now D and I feel doubtful. He feels good about the color of the blood and that my boobs are still sore. He then promptly puts me on bedrest for the next several days and refuses to talk about me miscarrying, he says we need to talk positively. He won't even talk about pregnancy #3 and sustaining, this sucks because as we all know I am the other shoe will fall kinda girl and must always have a backup plan.
When I got off the phone, I sat at on my loveseat which over looks the main road in front of my apartment and did what I rarely do in times of crisis, I prayed. I did the spirit-filled thing and told Satan to go away and asked God to save this pregnancy. I told Him I was at the end of my rope when it comes to trusting Him. I don't want another miscarriage, that is NOT the desires of my heart and His word says He will give us the desires of our hearts. Someone here is lying.
Thank goodness for friends, thank goodness for you and your Vanilla steamed drinks and treats. It's friends like that, who about to leave for a week cruise and am sure had a gazillion things to do carved out sometime to sit with me.
So, I sit here and just tell myself to hang on to whatever little piece of hope that I can and hopefully it won't let me down.