Shattered Dreams (11/28/07)

Warning: this is gonna be long, whiny and basically written for my own selfish theraputic purposes.

Yesterday I encountered a new kind of pain...new for me, anyway. On October 15th, after months of wondering if it was phsycially possible for me and 3 months on fertility drugs (yup, my reproductive system is totally broken), I got a positive pregnancy test, which was confirmed by a blood test at the doctor's. I'm sure you can already guess where this is going. Anyhoo, needless to say I was absolutely elated. By my calculations I was about 5 weeks along. So, I did what any woman in that situation would do...I scheduled my first doctor's appointment, stopped drinking Diet Coke and eating sushi, and signed up for a pregnancy website my sister recommended so I could start absorbing everything I needed to know about having a healthy pregnancy. While I didn't let the fact that I was pregnant consume my entire life, it became ever-present in my thoughts and I allowed myself to daydream about what it would be like to finally have a child (being a mother is something I have always really, really wanted) and all the wonderful things Jacob and I would do to be the best parents ever.

As the weeks slowly passed, I grew more excited for my first appointment, scheduled at 10 weeks, because I knew there'd be an ultrasound for me to see our baby and that I'd get to hear the heartbeat. When the day of the appointment finally arrived (yesterday), I raced to school to pick up Jacob from class and the 2 of us happily walked into the doctor's office.

I did the routine stuff with the nurse...medical history, vitals and so on. Then Jacob and I were called back for the ultrasound. I knew something was wrong as soon as she put the thing on my stomach. I was planning on going into the medical field in high school and took a bunch of classes, and actually got my CNA license, so I do have some medical knowledge. Once she started the ultrasound and I saw the image, I knew that Jacob and I are not going to be parents in June. Without going into huge amounts of detail, basically I was measuring about 7 weeks but definitely no living baby in there. They walked us down the hall into a different room while my doctor looked at the ultrasound, and then he came in and gently told us what I already knew...the pregnancy had terminated itself. So, for the bulk of the time I was walking around thinking I was going to have a baby, reality was there wasn't even a living thing in there. My doctor then told me that he was going to have to surgically go in and clean everything out...it is by no means a complicated procedure (there's not even an incision) and I'll only be at the hospital for a couple hours (and the bulk of that will be waking up from the anesthesia), but for some reason hearing that made it impossible for me to keep it together any more and I broke down.

I came home and e-mailed the very few people I'd actually told (our families don't even know) and my boss because I'll need the day off once they schedule the surgery...basically to let them know that yes, this happened and no, I'm not ready to talk about it. Then I spent the rest of the night trying not to think about it but failing miserably. Poor Jacob didn't know what to do with me, though I don't really think there was anything he could do at that point...he has been so supportive and caring and I'm so glad he was at the doctor's with me so I didn't have to find all this out alone.

So that brings us to right about now. Me, after a night with hardly any sleep, sitting at my computer blogging at 6am because I'm sick of laying in bed and because I am hoping that writing all of this out will help me better process what has happened so this horrible pain I feel will start to subside and I can start moving on. I feel foolish because I know that what happened to me is really minimal compared to what other women have been forced to go through. A close friend of mine just had a miscarraige at 12 weeks, and she not only has to deal with the emotional pain but she had to feel the physical pain of actually going through labor as it was happening. And I know more than one person who has had a stillborn and had to bury their child...I cannot even begin to imagine what that feels like. So frankly, I feel somewhat stupid for being this upset and now, angry about what has happened to me. I'm not saying that it's not appropriate for me to grieve...I know it's natural and healthy. I just genuinely hate crying this much (or at all) and feeling sorry for myself (and feeling vulnerable). I wish I could simply have an attitude of "well, that sucks, but there's nothing I can do about it" and move on. That's pretty much Jacob's take on the whole thing. He argues that it's different for him as he wasn't the pregnant one feeling pregnancy symptoms for a pregnancy that wasn't there...and he says that he had a hard time even believing I was pregnant since I wasn't showing, so finding out that I'm not isn't as devastating for him. To Jacob, this is only a setback, it will be fine...because the doctor said he doesn't see any reason why I can't go back on the fertility drugs 4-6 weeks after surgery. And I know Jacob is right, but for some reason I can't feel that way yet despite my intense desire to.
I know it hasn't even been 24 hours yet, and logically I know it could take a day or two before I can verbally talk about this without crying (I hate that)...and I know that it's ok. The problem lies in reconciling my logical thoughts with my emotions. Perhaps it will be an easier task after I actually have surgery (which should be tomorrow or Monday, I'm still waiting to hear). Maybe I'm not giving myself enough time...hell, maybe blogging this soon after I found out is a bad idea. I don't know. I just can't remember any time in my life where I have felt anything like this. Even though all my suicidal times...it didn't feel like this, and I'm kind of flailing around looking for something, anything to feel better (good thing I don't drink, huh? ). And you know, I probably do need to just give it time (and talk to my shrink about it...) because there's no quick fix. But I wish there was.

Oy...I'm going to be done now. If you made it through all this, kudos to you. I will say thanks for reading, and thanks for your friendship and love. I know I'm not always the best at staying in close contact, but I hope you all know I think highly of my friends and am grateful for you.