Distasteful Plans

I’m a planning sort of gal. It helps me feel in control by organizing what will happen in my life. That said, I can’t plan everything. Much as I’d like to.

Anyone who’s called me strong in this situation couldn’t be more wrong. I am not strong: I am a reluctant solider, an unwilling draftee, navigating a new battlefield and I don’t yet know where the mines are buried. There is no field guide, no step-by-step instruction manual to miscarry naturally. It occurs to me only now that perhaps I am writing the very thing… Had I ever planned to author something in my lifetime, it definitely wasn’t this.

It’s been five weeks—otherwise known as thirty-five long days—since that first empty scan showing a misshapen black mass on the u/s screen. And it’s now twenty-one days since the scan when I arbitrarily chose to consider it “official.” Surely by now this is some kind of world record. I’m starting to think it might not ever happen on its own.

I’ve been having burning, mega cramps, unproductive contractions that hurt like whaaaaa, and random spotting ranging from spongy pink to mucousy brown (TMI. Yikes.). Out of nowhere the symptoms will suddenly vanish, but only for as long it takes to completely screw with my mind before returning with a vengeance. Had I known five/three weeks ago that I’d still be waiting, maybe I’d have reconsidered my decision.

So anyway, back to the subject: Plans. If nothing changes between now and then, here’s mine:

I’ll be exactly twelve weeks on Thanksgiving Day. It’s not recommended to wait past the first trimester for a BO to pass. But—since I’d rather not ruin all future Thanksgivings as being the anniversary of my miscarriage—I’ll let it go one extra day. I put in a call Dr. C to see about scheduling a D&C for the day after Thanksgiving. For one thing, I’ll already be off work anyway. Plus, I’ll have the somewhat-reassurance that I waited this out as long as was safe, and gave my body the longest chance ever to do its job. Since DH and I plan to lay low this Thanksgiving (more on that another day), it won’t make a dent in any holiday plans.

Another reason to get this over with quickly are the cysts. Remember my multiple monstrous, creepy-face-shaped cysts? They’re still there. Cysts hanging out indefinitely can’t be good for my body, right? As my progesterone dropped (or should have dropped in theory by now) from the collapsing sac (again, in theory), it should have caused the cysts to shrink and disappear. Two months later though and they’re still there. Once my uterus is back to its usual empty state, hopefully my rising estrogen levels will shrink these bad mothas and they’ll be nothing but a distant memory.

I’m angry at my body for once again failing me: for not geting pregnant, for not staying pregnant, and now for not even miscarrying properly. My plan to wait this out seems to have turned into an Epic Fail as the kids say. My main reason was that I wanted to avoid another surgery that wasn’t Absolutely Necessary, no matter how minor. Not only that, but I’d read about studies suggesting a link between D&Cs and development of Asherman’s Syndrome… Because of those and other possible fun infertility side effects, I refused the D&C. And at the basis of it all is that I HATE having surgery and anesthesia. (Silver lining: No Black Friday shopping for this chick. Hooray.)

So, there’s that. I am now awaiting a return call from Dr. C to bestow his blessing upon my plans.

bestlaidplans

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Author: Marixsa

Navigating the infertility waters and encouraging other mamas-in-waiting along the way.

9 thoughts on “Distasteful Plans”

  1. I feel completely heartbroken over this and wish that there was something I could say or do to help, but I know that words fall short right now. I completely understand that you don’t feel strong, that you don’t feel like fighting anymore. It’s one thing to keep pushing and fighting when you feel at least somewhat capable of doing so and have a direction to go in, but it’s completely another to be forced to fight when you don’t feel like you have anything left to give. It’s a terrible place to be.

    And all of that brings me back to… I wish there were words or comfort I could offer. I can only say that you are on my mind and I am praying so hard for some relief from this pain for you. xx

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    1. Thank you for your encouragement. Sometimes I secretly hope that you’re not reading my post, cause I know we’re literally days apart in our transfers, because I think maybe it’ll bring you down or something. I hope not! I send nothing but happiness your way 🙂

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      1. I feel the same – I always worry that me posting something thats going well will bring you down, I remember how hard it was when I had my m/c and I had a friend who was due a couple of weeks later.
        Honestly, I want to read and share in your story – I’m seriously rooting for you! I really look forward to the day when I can write a great big congratulations on your post 🙂

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  2. Oh friend, I think you are doing everything exactly right. You waited as long as was safe and gave your body every chance to miscarry on its own. Sometimes a body just doesn’t want to let go, but I don’t think that’s a failure. I really don’t. I think your body wants this baby just as much as you do and is fighting to keep it. That’s love right there, not failure.

    My body doesn’t like to let non-viable pregnancies go, either, so I understand all of this. The first time I did end up miscarrying on my own the night before the D & C, so maybe you will get “lucky” and your body will also start to let go on its own before your scheduled appointment.

    This is a tough, tough time. The toughest. But you are doing great under the circumstances. You really are! I’m sending all kinds of love and peace your way. I wish I could take this pain away from you and replace it with hope.

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    1. Thank you. That’s a nice way of looking at this, the whole body not letting go idea. They couldn’t get me until December 2, so my timeline has been extended. They’re all like, “Oh. We don’t do any procedures the week of Thanksgiving.” And I’m like, “Wanna bet? I’ve read Tanya’s blog you know. You sit on a throne of lies.” Ok, I didn’t quite say THAT, but you get the idea.

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