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.