this will make sense at the end

Warning: Not for the faint of heart…or stomach. Dark humour involved.

I’ve mentioned before that my second miscarriage was a very traumatic incident, but it took me a long time to realize that I never actually posted what happened. So I figure, in order to explain what is going on between Hubby and I, it would make more  sense if the story was filled in.

Like I’ve mentioned recently, Hubby is finally coming to grips with what his issues are, regarding TTC, and I’ve been realizing that things were worse than I had thought.

It comes down to this. Hubby is terrified that if I get pregnant again, I’ll die. Even with no hint of danger from the Dr’s, nothing rationally stating that there is any physical danger to me getting pregnant again…twice isn’t a pattern, second time being worse than the first doesn’t mean the third will trump the second…but try telling your heart to listen to your head, right?

When we found that I was miscarrying for the second time, we did what do, and asked my MIL to come stay with me. She flew out to stay for a week, but of course we had no clue when it was really going to happen. I honestly can’t remember how long she’d been here…a day…a few? But it started in the morning, shortly after Hubby went to work. Yes there is the cramping, the starting to bleed. I was ready to spend a very bad morning in the bathroom while mom took care of Monster and checked on me occasionally but gave me my privacy.

But the bleeding was more intense than it had been the first time. Ok, nothing ever goes the same twice. But then I bled through my pad, underwear and pants instantly. Irritating, right? (did I mention that I go into practical mode at times like this?). So I changed…and instantly bled through everything again. Ok, I just need to pass a clot and this will tone down. I didn’t want to ruin more clothes, so I sat in the shower. I look down to find the disturbing view wow, it’s just a-coming, it looks like I’m peeing! And below me on the shower floor is huge pools of my blood. Wow, it sure clots fast…it’s really bright. I’ve never been bothered by the sight of blood, not even my own.

Side note (I can’t handle phlegm though, mucus does awful things to my gag reflex). give me blood, guts, gaping wounds and ANYthing else from the body, but please give the outwardly phlegmy patients to someone else.

After passing a large clot, things slow down. I get dressed again. But moments later…Gush. Right through my third full set of bottoms. I was strangely calm this whole time. not really feeling anything emotionally, like it was someone else that I was helping through this. (although god knows we could never be this calm when someone around us is hurting but you guys know what I mean). So back in the shower I go. Any time now, there is no way that this can keep up. Hmm, I’m tired, I guess I didn’t get too much sleep…so much blood again. Nothing like sitting in a pool of your own blood…at least it happens to be my favorite color…it’s clotting so fast it looks like jelly pancakes

Lightbulb

I’ve lost more blood than a transfusion worth, this is getting bad, I’m starting to get loopy, I have to get to the hospital.

Well, in the three block drive to the hospital (mom drove of course) I went through another set of bottoms, and the towel I was sitting on. I walked up to triage, I’m not sure if she recognized me because it wasn’t my department but it’s a REALLY small hospital. She sent my straight to the bathroom to change and  a nurse came in a couple minutes later to walk me to a stretcher/ bed. And then it was all downhill.

I was still myself enough to be upset about the IV (ya, i knew I needed it but that damn needle issue I have doesn’t make my life here easy) but my nurse (I knew her but hadn’t worked with her…I don’t think she realized who I was) is an IV queen and managed a HUGE IV without me feeling too much. I could have kissed her. We weren’t even bothering with pads anymore, I was just on piles of soaker sheets being swapped out constantly. Dr Evil (never seen her before) showed up and DID SHE JUST STICK HER ENTIRE HAND UP THERE!!!!! FUCK!!!!! it was everything I could do not to scream in agony as she manually pushed clots out from inside and out. I’m not familiar with this technique and I’m pretty sure she should have offered me a few drinks first.

It was this point that I realize the entire emerg staff is flapping in panic, I kept waiting for my step-cousin to come in but turns out she thought I wouldn’t want her to come in under the circumstances (I would have though, just to have a comforting familiar face around). Hubby arrived finally and looked like death. Wow, I must look pretty bad. “I need to get up to the bathroom” “no, not a good idea” said another nurse. “it’s fine, Hubby will help me there” “Bedpan” “not a chance” “please” “I’ll be fine, stop worrying”. Well, it’s a well known fact that nurses are the worst patient (maybe Dr’s are worse, but..) and that we should be less stubborn with our fellow nurses when we are not at full mental function. I passed out the second I was up and Hubby barely had time to catch me. Fuzzy, whats going on, what a nice hug…oh, he’s not hugging me, he’s desperately trying to hold me to sitting in a chair…I guess even 100lbs of dead weight is pretty awkward.

I was lifted to bed, reprimanded for trying to do more than I should (aka anything more than staying conscious) and tilted head down in the bed. ya, it does feel like you’re going to slide off the head of the bed and that blood rush to the head was less than pleasant. but not much longer and I was being shoved into an ambulance to take me to the city for an emerg D&C and blood transfusion. I’ve never been in so much pain in my life as I was during that ride. It was like I was having an end of delivery style contraction for the entire 30 minute ride and I was strapped down and couldn’t even move. It never let up. Even when we arrived at the hospital that damn woman wouldn’t let me up. Apparently I was being forced to not push anymore clots out at this time. I had some serious hate of for the woman just doing her job (killer the messenger anyone?).

All in all, the OB Dr was in the middle of delivery and didn’t make it to see me in a timely enough fashion. Evil me was very glad the she took the amount of time she did because the bleeding had slowed to manageable enough by the time she got there that I was able to talk my way out of the D&C and the transfusion. Some of you may not see my logic for this, but my uterus is sacred to me and NO ONE is coming anywhere near it with anything that has a chance of causing infection or scaring, even if it is low. The transfusion was just an “if I don’t have to then why would I?” thing, like having surgery if you dont have to.

So Hubby saw me like this. He saw me grey as a corpse. He saw me in agonizing pain. He saw an entire emerg staff panick when trying to care for me. And he saw me still being stubborn as hell about wanting/ not wanting certain things. He saw me lose another child. And he saw me on what looked to him as me being on my deathbed.

Lets just say when I looked in the mirror later it scared even me (not an easy thing to do). You know those bug-eyed goldfish? you ever seen a grey one? how is it possible for someones eyes to puff out that much?

So I can understand why Hubby is so scared. But is he going to be able to get past that enough to ever try and having another child again?

I know he loves me. He wants to take care of me. He wasn’t to support me and give me everything I want. I know he’s going to be there for me through everything. Now it’s my turn to be there for him and show him I’m not going anywhere. And I hope that the time comes that he realizes that the rewards of more children are worth the risks. Then we’ll be able to move foreward.

Besides, worse comes to worst, I’m too stubborn to die.

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