Fair warning: this post gets a little gross.
We went camping this weekend. We have a cute little pop up camper (no tents and sleeping on the ground with these crazy dogs in tow) and we lucked out enough to get a site steps away from a fully functional bathroom complete with flush toilets and showers. When we go camping, it’s not exactly “roughing it.”
Since we had this trip planned, I didn’t have any intention of taking my miscarriage inducing pill until Monday. But clearly my body had other ideas.
Friday night around 9 I was in the worst mood I’ve ever been in. Not sure if this is related, but it seemed worth noting. I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, touch me, look at me, acknowledge me or even reference me in any way. I was a total bitch on wheels. It was so bad that I ended up just going to bed for fear of starting a colossal fight over nothing at all.
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and knew without question that I was dying. I’ve had cramps before – it’s part of my monthly misery – but this literally felt like someone had some giant industrial vice and was violently cranking my insides. I’ve never felt pain like that. If someone had walked into the camper offering a full hysterectomy to make the pain go away, I’m pretty sure I would have accepted in a heartbeat.
I stumbled out of the bed, legs shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks and found my emergency supply of ibuprofen in my bag. Eric had finished the last of my soda (curses!) so I had to feel around in the dark, blind without glasses or contacts, until I could find a water to take the pills. The only good part was that the pain seemed to subside in minutes (well, I did take 4). I fell back to sleep.
I awoke again at 4:30 to that familiar feeling of blood loss. I wish there was some way to explain the knowledge that you’re about to bleed a clot because its definitely different than a period… It’s kind of like how when your tampon is full and you just kind of “know it” through a weird feeling? A woman’s sixth sense, if you will? It’s like that. I knew that I needed to get myself up to the restroom, and quickly.
Passing clots is really gross, I’m not going to elaborate more than that. It’s also not awesome when you’re in the woods camping, in a bathroom that is not your own, with toilets that have no water pressure whatsoever that take 5 times to flush properly. It was depressing. It’s what I imagined Monday to be like, only on Monday I would be in the comfort of my own home. I’m sure I still need to take the pill to make sure everything is out of me, but seriously… how much is there? I missed out on seeing it all last time since I had the D&C. I suppose there are positives and negatives to both courses of action. I hope no one reading this ever has to experience it, and if you do, I’m sorry. Make sure you have your Tylenol-codeine prescription filled before you think you’ll need it. That was my mistake for all this.
We go on this camping trip every year along with Eric’s parents and the rest of his family. I remember a few years ago when his mom casually referenced that she could be babysitting one of our kids the following year (at that point she knew we were struggling, she was just being upbeat and hopeful). Last year on this trip I had no prospects in sight, other than the luck of a miracle or someone randomly giving me $20K for IVF. This year I’ve been pregnant twice. I made it further then I ever thought I would even though I still didn’t bring anyone to babysit. It’s still possible to have a baby of our own to take camping next year. Far-fetched, perhaps, but possible.
A few posts back I mentioned someone close to my inner circle who is pregnant. That person is Eric’s sister, and she was camping, too. It’s hard. It’s hard to feel like you’re bleeding to death while knowing that a few hundred feet away there’s a normal person enjoying a normal person pregnancy. It’s hard to hear the laughter and adorable voices of the small children at the next campsite over. It’s hard to eat whatever I want because it just doesn’t matter anymore. I hate it, and I hate feeling bitter over baby bumps. I’m supposed to be happy, too. I’m supposed to have a damn bump. It I was still pregnant with the twins I’d be huge by now. I just… I just feel bitter and also angry at myself for being bitter.
I did manage to find some pain pills and they helped me relax significantly. I usually don’t take serious medication, but I have to admit… it was pretty nice to feel calm. The next morning I was even angry at myself for feeling anxious again, thinking somehow a new mindset would take over. I need to relax myself, my immune system, my crazy overactive brain and my imagination. I just need to figure out how to do that in a natural way.
I realize now that I’m rambling. I’m working from home tomorrow and probably Tuesday since I have to take that lovely pill. I wish this could just be over so I can start all over again.