Fuck Miscarriage.

I went through at least four different possible post titles, and decided on the most authentic to how I'm feeling lately. Not kitschy, but unique just the same.

Things here in Chez Libs have been a wee bit sad, a wee bit tragic, and yet not without a wee bit of hope. I actually am still up in the air about whether or not to keep blogging for the time being, so if this ends up being posted then, well...yay I guess. Maybe that's a step forward for me.

So the miscarriage. Or, as my OB referred to it, "early pregnancy failure." Chefy has been making bad jokes about the EPF that I've had. They're horrible (the jokes), but make me feel better. So. My m/c was awful. It was bloody and sad and emotionally (but not physically) painful. I have gone back and forth on writing about the physical details of the m/c, because I think (as someone who is now in this category of Woman Who Has Miscarried) it is important to read about the actual physical part of passing a pregnancy, but am caught on how writing descriptively about it will help me heal. In that respect, I think I'll focus on how things went down emotionally, and just say I don't think there's any way a woman could physically prepare to pass her own ended pregnancy. It was hard.

Last week there I was, happily stunned by my pregnancy. I had had early spotting, but on Fri and Sat, it went away! The clouds parted, the birds chirped, and things were all right in the world. Then Sunday morning, my BBT dropped suddenly, about a whole degree. Crazy. I took a hpt to make sure it was still positive, and it was. Little did I know this was the beginning of the end. From there, the spotting just gradually got worse, moving from one or two small pink spots every hour to large red-ish puddles every time I went to the bathroom. I knew something was going on, and I was then in an intense state of stress and panic. Yet, there was nothing I could do. Talk about infuriating.
By late Tuesday morning, I was full-on bleeding and made Chefy go buy some more hpt's, both of which turned out to be negative. As quickly as we had become so elated, we both jumped into the misery pool and started then, I think, to try not to drown.

And now it is Friday. I am still bleeding at a medium level. I am also feeling better. I have had some amazing support from many people in my life. Chefy has been with me the entire time, holding my hand, crying with me, reminding me of all the positive things there are to be positive about. We went to see my OB on Wednesday, and she was very supportive and helpful..mentioning that we were lucky to get pregnant on the first try, and that this proves that at least one of my tubes is good to go. We talked about progesterone, and she is sending me a scrip and some information. She was apologetic and caring, and took the time to really listen to our questions. Good stuff. My acupuncturist (who is pregnant!!!!) I hadn't seen for two weeks. She put me on some herbs to increase my blood flow and strength and gave me lots of compassionate care. Just being there and telling her the entire story made me so sad...I didn't even have enough emotional energy to ask her about her pregnancy. It just didn't seem like the right time.
I have been talking with my mom, who is endlessly supportive and loving, and have been emailing some fellow bloggers who have shared their experiences with me (thank you Justine), and basically been all-around stellar listeners and caring souls. Thank you. And all the love I've felt from your comments, fellow bloggers, has just really helped me get through these last couple of days. So thank you too.

I have been through a lot in the last week. I might even venture to say that it's been one of, if not the most difficult week of my life. I am still reeling from the fact that I even was pregnant, even if it was on that list of "world's shortest pregnancies." Did someone earlier mention there would be prizes awarded for this honor? A girl can hope...
In all the sadness and simple horror of knowing that you were pregnant and now you are not, I have managed to keep it positive. And real, I hope. I am still impressed with myself for getting pregnant at all. I need to remind myself that that is something to celebrate (patting self on back). So even if it didn't take...it still happened. It was real. And if it happened once, hopefully I can make it happen again. I am thankful to myself for that gift.

I feel so blessed in other ways...this whole experience has helped put things into perspective (I know..such a cheesy thing to say) but it's true. I need to know that if I am meant to be a mother to a child, it will all come in due time. I am lucky in all kinds of ways...it's important now for me to live in that feeling, and not be pulled down by the sadness of losing a pregnancy.

One very real positive thing that has come out of this is that it's made Chefy and I much closer. It's hard to explain exactly, as I knew I wanted to have children with her for a while now...just going through this has solidified that for me. I can't wait to be a parent with her, to have a family. It's all gonna be good. Shoot.

So ultimately, things aren't the hellhole I had expected. (Can I get an Amen!) Ok, so I was pregnant and it didn't work. That baby wasn't meant to be in this world, and probably for good reason. I know now that I am capable of getting pregnant, and have been given the opportunity to work on my patience levels by waiting it out until it happens again. I feel like I know I will be okay. Life will continue on, and one day things will work themselves out. What more can I ask for?