The "All Clear"...Sort of...

So today was my two week check-up after my miscarriage. I was so busy at work all day that I didn't really get a chance to be excited, but as I drove to the office, I started to get all excited and jittery. For two weeks I've been living in this uncomfortable limbo. By the end, it wasn't even depression...it was just frustrated stagnation.

Well the news is that my uterus is looking good. I responded to this news by saying, "Thanks. I've been working on it." Uterine lining is healthy and thin; the twins (my new nickname for my ovaries) are a-okay. All good news!

My list...or the beginning of it.

I got a chance to ask my questions, and I had developed quite a list in my iPhone leading up to this appointment. My plan was to write down every answer and ask every question. But once she said I was fine? It was like most of those questions suddenly became unimportant. I didn't care if they could do more chromosomal testing or if the tests revealed normal pregnancy tissue. Some questions I just skipped over altogether. It didn't seem productive or even important to ask questions about the past, so I just skipped over those ones and got down to the nitty-gritty--the future.

So here's my dilemma, inquiring minds of internet, family, fellow future mommies, and friends. The doctor originally said to wait to start "trying" again until after I got my first period. This time, she repeated the same recommendation and followed up by saying there is still a chance I should get pregnant before that so it was probably a good idea to use protection. I asked her what the risk would be if I conceived before my first menstrual cycle. She paused and then said, "well...it would be more difficult to date the pregnancy since you wouldn't have a last menstrual period to date from". I followed up by asking if there were any dangers, and she said no. So...not sure what to do with that. Kind of not interested in going back to the days of...well...you know...protecting. I mean, seriously...protecting against what? So any thoughts or opinions are welcome.

But overall this couldn't have gone any better. We miss you, little precious baby, but we're glad that you went naturally and without ado. Can't wait to start making you a baby sister or brother!

Trust Your Intuition

When my first ultrasound moved my due date back a week (saying I was 6 weeks instead of 7 weeks), I knew that wasn't a good sign. The ultrasound technician told me it was pretty normal and not to worry; I was probably just off on my dates. But I track my cycle pretty consistently and I knew myself...I didn't count wrong.

At 8 weeks, 5 days (when I should have been 9 weeks, 5 days by my count), I was still measuring a week small....maybe even a little more than that. My doctor did some crazy and inaccurate math on the back of a referral sheet at that appointment and said it was nothing to worry about. I raised an eyebrow and shrugged my shoulders. Still felt like something wasn't right.

And then at 9 weeks, 5 days (10 weeks, 5 days by my count), I miscarried. Today, at my two week appointment, I asked if the smaller fetal size in both of the ultrasounds could have been a sign that something was awry and my doctor gave me a pretty confident "it definitely could have been". I wanted to start screaming and waving my hands in the office while screaming, "HELLLOOOOO!!!!".

So the lesson here? Trust your intuition.

Too Soon? Nahhhhh...lol.

I guess I always feel like you know a wound is healing, physical or mental, when you can make a joke about it.

Tonight I was sitting on the floor immersed in piles of grading and I asked my husband to bring a laptop up from the basement. It was like me seventy-fifth "honey, can you just..." of the night, and I am a frequent exploiter of his kindness. He responded with a jovial "[expletive deleted] you aren't pregnant anymore!" and we both laughed as I got off the floor and shuffled down the stairs, smiling.

Many people don't get our sense of humor, but the fact that he was able to joke about it shows that he's healing a lot more quickly than I feared he might. The fact that I laughed shows that I am, too. Despite the looming, tempestuous storm clouds of a busy week, this little moment made me feel good.

Positive Thoughts

“Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true.”
--Stranger Than Fiction

Just some positive food for thought! Fingers crossed that tomorrow goes well!

Cleaning Therapy

Since our loss, the house has kind of fallen into a state of entropy. Like us, the house seemed disordered, unready to be put back into place. My suitcase sat idly next to the stairs...unpacked from our last, fateful trip. Dishes were undone. Laundry piled up.

Today, I couldn't bring myself to grade. That weight of sadness felt slightly more languor-inducing this morning, but I was determined not to spend another Sunday glued to the tattered comfort of my couch. That suitcase was staring me down, and I was suddenly reminded of one thing over which I still had control--my space.

So I set to work. I attempted to unclog the bathtub; I rinsed the dust off of the bathroom ducks. I did a little laundry, and my husband washed the dishes. Bills were finally paid. I cleaned out my purse and organized my stuff for work.

My gothy, geeky office...on a good day.

But the biggest hill to get over was the disorganized state of my office and bedroom. When I was pregnant, I began to (obviously a bit prematurely) prepare the baby's room. Formerly my office, the second bedroom was going to need a complete overhaul. I was afraid it might take nine months to transform my geeky boudoir (aka: "office") into an infantile paradise. I couldn't wait for the "nesting" instinct to set in. I've watched some of my friends wait until their third trimester to begin decorating and I didn't want to replicate that stress.

When I miscarried, I had already taken storage bins full of books over to my parents' house and prepared a few more for transport. In their place, the bookshelf was beginning to be adorned by baby books and stuffed animals that my husband and I had acquired over years of preparing to conceive, seven months of trying, and two months of pregnancy. I was moving other books and all of my jewelry into my bedroom.

After the miscarriage, everything just kind of froze in place for nearly two weeks. We were stepping over boxes to get into bed. The office/baby's room sat lonely and disheveled. Both my husband and I decided that we didn't want to undo all that we had done. We're both firmly resolved to continue our journey; the office will be a place for baby tears and diaper rash soon enough. So today I decided to continue to clean and prepare as I would have had nothing gone wrong in the first place. Well, almost the same. At least this time I could do most of the lifting.

I put books on the bookshelf in the bedroom; I hung some shelves in the bedroom to move some pictures around. I organized the photo albums. I cleaned off my dresser top to make way for my jewelry as it migrated from the office. Things aren't done being cleaned. Even when they are, there will still be one final, missing piece to the puzzle, but I'm confident that she or he will be here soon. I want to be ready when he or she arrives.

I'm not a big cleaner, but today cleaning was therapy. Thank you, Clorox Wipes, Drano and my beloved hammer drill!

Recovering

The canal by my house during a sunset walk

I think I'm on my way now, for real. I'm still engaging in self destructive behaviors like smoking and drinking a bunch of caffeine, but my eating has improved for sure, and I went for a walk both today and yesterday. I'm still reminded of our loss in little moments: my boss asking how I'm doing, a sympathy card from my uncle, a friend planning to visit next summer. Overall though, I think I'm back on a more stable plane. A few days ago little moments would derail me for hours. Now they make me sigh and tear up up for a moment, but they don't take me entirely off track. My rebound time is more reasonable.

Last night I took a few moments to look at the last ultrasound picture I have of my baby. It's still really amorphous and bean-like, but I didn't cry when I looked at my child. Instead, I just thought about her life and her beauty however short-lived it might have been. She brought a lot of happiness to our friends and family, and despite how it ended, I'm happy she was here. I smiled as I looked at that blurry image and thought of her heart beating strongly and solidly at 150 bpm. She was real, and I'm happy she brightened the winter darkness, if only for a brief moment in time. Even knowing how it would end, I'd do it all over again to have those 9 weeks and 5 days with her.

Random Thought

My jeans are too big for me now...it's supposed to be the other way around. lol. sigh.