I don’t know how to write this. I don’t know how to live this…but I will, somehow. It has happened again. I guess the only place to start is at the beginning. It wasn’t planned. I was on the pill. Yet, four days after the last active pill, my period was still not showing up, and my boobs were sore, which I don’t typically have with PMS, so I took a test. It was positive. I was shocked, and scared, but happy. Guardedly hopeful. Yet fiercely holding my breath…I just can’t help it. Left a message at the RE’s office, went in the next morning for a blood draw. And again the day after the next. The number came really close to doubling as it should; close enough to call positive, sticky, 1370 to 2432. They scheduled me for an ultrasound Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. We did see a heartbeat, though it was slower than ideal, either 89 or 81 beats per minute. But we saw it. Those two little lines squeezing together seemed to make it more real, but the slow rate definitely scared me. Maybe part of me knew that couldn’t be good, though the doctor said that measuring at 5 weeks 6 days the heart could have just started beating the day before. I tried to believe that…maybe it was just beginning, would ramp up and regulate itself. They said to come back in a week for another scan. We stopped at my parents’ house afterward and showed my mom the pictures from the ultrasound. She was so happy and excited and told me to try and relax, gave me some herbal tea to take home. But as soon as we got home I discovered the bleeding, bright red. Not even two and a half hours after seeing that heartbeat, the the end had begun. I took two ibuprofen and laid down as they’d instructed when I’d had minor spotting the week before, but I was shaking pretty violently. Called the answering service, got a call back from the RE, who said to continue with the Heparin, but that there was really nothing to do but wait and see. I wasn’t yet having any cramping, which he said was good, but I knew that the bright red blood was a very bad sign. I tried to stay calm, kept my feet up and broke out the heating pad, hoping against hope that preventing cramping might make a difference…it didn’t. I repeated the ibuprofen dose at nine, feeling only minor twinges in the area, still no real cramping. The bleeding slowed some, but didn’t stop. Went to bed. Slept fitfully. Woke up at six-thirty when I felt a little gush. Went into the bathroom, saw the increased bleeding and lost a large clot. I…I couldn’t bring myself to flush the fucking toilet. Crawled back into bed with Mike and cried hysterically. Spent the morning in a daze. Called my parents to let them know that I’d not be in great shape for Thanksgiving, but I knew I couldn’t just sit and dwell on it all day. They of course still wanted us to come. We went…it was nice to have family support. I had never had such a hug from my brother. It helps. But this sucks. I don’t know how else to put it. It sucks. It was the farthest along I’ve ever gotten, and I had started to believe this one might make it. We saw the heartbeat. I can’t scrub this from my brain.
As we left my parents’ house, my dad said something along the lines of…you still have a lot to be thankful for. That sounds harsh to type or read, but it didn’t sound that way at all. He is right, though it’s not easy to focus on that. I am so thankful for Mike. This one has been harder on him than any of the previous three. He also saw the heartbeat and had his hopes way up, and was there when it ended. He came with me to my parents’ house though he clearly was not really up for it. He moved all the Heparin vials and syringes and the progesterone supplements off the coffee table when I wasn’t looking. He flushed the motherfucking toilet for me. He came with me for the blood draw first thing Friday morning and then back out for the other blood draw and the wait for the Rhogam to be prepped and injected later in the afternoon. He’s held my hand or held me close almost on eye contact for the past few days. He hasn’t left my side and I can’t thank him enough for that.
I am thankful for supremely supportive family and friends. It seems odd that I sent out an email to break the bad news to a few friends, but I’m thankful that they wouldn’t take it as odd…there’s just no way I could make that many phone calls. I can’t imagine going through this not having told my closest friends and family. Even though most of them have never been where I am and hopefully never will, it really means the world to me that people understand, as much as they can. It’s an incredibly isolating experience, so to be surrounded by love is all I could ask, and I don’t even have to ask. It’s not a minor thing. I don’t know what will be next, and I don’t know where we’ll go from here. I am pretty much brought to my knees by this, but that’s still not flat on the ground, and there will be hands to help me up. If I can remain thankful for that and remain breathing, that’s enough for now.