Today was the D&C. Sad day. But you know what… not quite as sad as I thought it would be. I’ve seen a few creepy pictures meant to represent miscarriage with women who have holes where their stomachs should be crying large tears. I kind of thought that was how I would feel – hollow; empty; vacant. Like a part of me was missing. Truth be told, I don’t know if it was the power of suggestion or something tangible, but I had already felt the “presence” of them leave earlier this week. I don’t have any cravings anymore. I don’t have any sense of them being there. As a good friend eloquently said, they were both already at peace.
Part of what made this easier was how early it happened. Yes, 8 weeks is relatively late, but it’s not 20 weeks. I wasn’t really showing. My symptoms were minimal; I hadn’t yet felt any movement. These babies were definitely real and this definitely was a loss, but it could have been so, so much worse. This could have been late term. I could still be bearing the physical representation of the twins. At least my scars are mostly emotional and are hidden deep down inside of me.
Can I just point out how different this surgery was from anything I’ve done at New Hope? The preparation, the procedure, the aftercare… the whole thing took seven hours. SEVEN HOURS. For the egg retrieval they wheeled me in, someone popped in an IV and I was out like a light. But today at the hospital they made me remove all my jewelry, sign about 100 forms, verify my name, birth date and procedure every 15 minutes (yes, please keep reminding me why I’m there), and even take out my contacts. The nurse checking me in was mildly sympathetic and we chatted briefly about IVF and the clinical trial. She even shared that she had two misses (one ectopic and one that didn’t take due to fibroids) and never ended up having children. Then I had to remove my wedding rings and she ran them out to my mother-in-law, who was out in the waiting room. Unbeknownst to me, she said to Cindy (referring to me), “You know, she’s making a bigger deal out of this than it really is,” which made Cindy cry and be upset for the remaining six hours. I wish I had gotten the bitch’s name so I could complain. Seriously? I wasn’t crying (yet) and decidedly was NOT making a big deal about it to her. I was impressed with my composure. What a stupid thing to say.
I had to wait in the pre-op room for quite some time because they were running behind. The woman next to me was getting a hysterectomy and all I could think was, “Dear God, don’t let them wheel me into her OR accidentally.” My doctor came by and did one final ultrasound, which made me feel so much better. I totally forgot to ask if they would. During my wait I heard a song that I’ve associated with infertility and pregnancy (I have a whole lyrics analysis post drawn up that I haven’t gotten around to posting yet) and that’s the first time of the day I started crying. A nurse rushed over to ask if I was OK. The whole thing just felt very dreamlike and hazy because they had made me take out my contacts, so everything was so blurry. I couldn’t see anyone’s faces, all I could focus on was the fluorescent light cover depicting clouds and a blue sky.
Three hours later they finally wheeled me in, and as usual I was awake one moment and being wheeled to recovery the next. Have I mentioned how much I love anesthesia? I have no adverse reactions and it just makes me feel so… safe and comfortable. I knew I would just go to sleep and wake up when it was over. I actually looked forward to the burn of the fluid going into my veins. Sick, I know. But really, best invention ever.
I woke up with some serious cramps and demanded pain medication, stat. Some guy in recovery was screaming and raving, which did not help me come gently out of my haziness. I got back to post-op, had to wait to pee a certain amount, had some graham crackers and finally got sent home at 5 pm. It’s all over now.
As hesitant as I was, I would 100% recommend this procedure to any poor soul who has to go through this. It truly does give a sense of closure. If I had waited to miscarry naturally, it could have taken weeks or months. I can’t imagine walking around with that impending sense of doom and I really can’t imagine what it would have been like when it finally did happen.
Now I’m just trying to recoup, regroup and get on with my life. We will be blessed again. We will get through this because we are strong and we have the love and support of all our friends and family. We will have our precious babies, and we will see the ones we lost again someday.