Who else has miscarried?

According to statistics, 40-50% of all pregnancies end in miscarriages. Understandably, most of those end within days of an expected period - so most women think their period was just a little behind schedule, and think nothing of it.

But what about all the women that have miscarried? Supposedly 20% of women have miscarried and do know that it happened. I don't know a single person who miscarried. Not one friend or even an aquantance. It's like I'm the only one with bad eggs and an unlucky uterus. Its been strange for me, because we only told a few people we were pregnant, and then had to tell them that we were going to miscarry. As a woman, I want to talk about what's happening to me! I want to commiserate with other women, and feel like I'm not the only one. Yet how do I say to someone, "hey, I'm pregnant, but not for long!" That's just not an easy conversation. You can physically see people start squirming and wishing they were anywhere other than with you. It's almost like I have leprosy, or AIDS, or some other contageous disease.

And, if I don't tell anyone, then I get to endure the wonderful, over-used phrase, "so, are you pregnant yet?" And if I share with them, then I get the "well, at least you got pregnant!" I know this is supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn't.

It's over, pretty much

When it finally started, I was so relieved. We could stop wondering. We knew that it really was over and that there really was no minute chance of hope. This was something for sure. It started just like a period...nothing crazy at all. I was scheduled for a D&C, but I asked if I could ride it out "naturally," since I started bleeding a few days before the appointment. All in all it wasn't horrible. It lasted about 11 days - but very little cramping. It seemed really like a long period. I guess that made it somewhat easier. I'm truly grateful that it wasn't as horrendous as it could have been.

Now we wait. Yet again. It seems to be a common thread. It's all waiting, very little doing. But, I can tell you that what I have been doing is drinking a TON of caffeine, indulging in a few adult beverages, eating raw fish - all those things you can't do when you're "waiting." It's been grand. I've gained at least another five pounds in pity calories ("poor me...I deserve to eat this entire pie").

We are supposed to take this month off. Apparently the body needs to ramp-up for our next go-round. So...I should probably fall-back to an earlier post where I claimed, "Either pregnant or skinny by summer!" That would mean getting my lazy rump off the couch and perhaps doing some exercise other than opening the fridge and consuming copius ammounts of carbs.

Seriously, Most Definitely Not

After hearing not once, but twice that this pregnancy was highly-unlikely to survive, and that I would probably miscarry at any moment, I've been waiting for "it" to happen.

Friday morning, just before lunch, I had hideously horrible abdominal pain - nothing like I've ever had before. I couldn't sit down. I had to pace...almost wearing a hole in the fabulous blue nylon carpeting in my office. I had been warned that this is what could happen and that I was to call the dr's office immediately if it did. It could be the signs of an eptopic pregnancy (when the egg attaches itself in a fallopian tube instead of the uterus). This is dangerous and requires pretty scary surgury. So, when the pain started coming and showed no signs of leaving, I called the doc.

The wonderful staff told me to get someone to drive me there immediately. Of course, it was lunch time, no one was around, and I didn't exactly want to inform my coworkers that I was a). pregnant and b). going to miscarry it. So, I drove myself. I wonder what the people in nearby cars thought as I screamed in pain and contorted my face in surely grotesque formations.

I am quite sure that every traffic light between my office and the dr's turned red just as I came to the intersection. Every time! I thought for sure I would die right in my car, in the middle of traffic. But, I didn't. I made it to the dr's office, and they wisked me into an examining room and poked around inside my stuff, looking for signs that I had begun to miscarry. Then they hauled me into the ultrasound room to have a look-see with the ultrasound wand. They found nothing. They asked me lots of questions and determined that, I, ahem, had horrible "gas" and was "backed up" in the digestion area. I felt like an idiot. They were totally nice about it, but I'm sure they were none too happy to be interrupted during their lunch hour by a gal who just needed to take a dump.

While there, I took another blood test, just so they could see what was going on with my hcg levels. Perhaps there was a miracle! It took the nurse three tries to get any blood from me. I just wasn't in a giving mood, aparently.

After all of that drama, I got a call later in the afternoon that again, my levels were going up, but not as much as they should. I would "most likely miscarry in the next few days and I should prepare myself. If I should experience any doubling-over pain, I was to call the doctor immediately." This is the third time I had heard the exact same message. They must have a little cheat-sheet near the phone so they can just ramble off the appropriate message.

So, we spent the weekend, saddened by the news, but feeling like perhaps there was still a small chance that it would all work out. We had yet another appointment scheduled for Monday and perhaps then we would get some positive information.

We got up early, went to the doctors, and she did yet another quick ultrasound before telling us both that it was too early to see anything in the uterus, but that the numbers were horrible, and that nothing was happening - this was a bum egg, and that it was just a matter of time before my body would purge it. Was there any chance? We asked. No - she'd never seen a case where a successful pregnancy had resulted after such low, non-doubling numbers.

We felt that those were the final nails in the coffin (sorry for the horrible pun). There is no hope. Game over. Time to throw in the towel. The fat lady sung. The cock crowed.

Now we continue to wait. Just wondering when and how it'll all go down. I've got a stockpile of pads waiting in the wings both at work and at home. I'm trying to pacify myself with thoughts like, "soon I'll be able to drink beer and coffee again." Or, "now I can lose a few more pounds on Weight Watchers."