Cycle Day 1 - Again

I started my second cycle November 13. I woke up to it. It was a nice little, whoa before my morning coffee. It was five/six days early. 

Before my D&C I had pretty regular cycles, 28/30 days. Nothing crazy. Now, I have no idea. It's like I'm 13 and starting my period for the first time. 

BUT since this marks the beginning of my second cycle it means we are free to start trying again! Whoo hoo! 

That wasn't an accurate expression of my true excitement. I say again: WHOOOOOOOO HOOOOO!

And let me just say, In my experience peeing on an HPT is like taking your car to the car wash. Want rain? Wash your car. Want a period? Pee on a stick.

November! Finally!

October is over. I'm still tense, waiting to see if November will hit us with the force of this past October. We've had so much going on the last thirty days.

It's the second of November and so far the remaining pets are still alive, no one is sick, no one is dead (again), and we got paid. Although we do have to go to a funeral Saturday. My husbands grandmother died October 31st. I guess that was the creme de la creme - in other words, the icing on the cake, the straw that broke the camels back, the cherry on top - and every other corny phrase that basically means:

"can't shit just get better already?!"

It has to be better because my husband and I BD'd for the first time since the end of September. When we found out the baby had no heartbeat October 4th it was just weird to think about "doing it" with you know...yeah....

Then after the surgery I  was on two weeks of "pelvic rest" - no tampons, douches or penises - Doctor's own words.

November 1st we did "it"! Without a condom. Which is a little nerve wracking because... well if you've been reading you know the because. If you not, let me fill you in: Missed miscarriage in October at 10 weeks, then D&C, then first cycle October 22nd, then we were told wait another cycle to start trying.

I'm only 22 days from the D&C. I've had one cycle. I'm scrounging around baby bump forums reading about others getting pregnant after a D&C. There is sooooo much conflicting information out there.

For today I've decided to take the "if I'm ready it will happen if I'm not it won't" approach. Because after all, what the hell else can I do?

Go Away October

A friend paid us a surprise visit on Sunday. When the doorbell rang we thought it was our neighbor returning our dog. He frequently escapes from under the fence. Lately it's been a source of contention between us and the neighbor. So when the doorbell rang my husband and I froze. Shit, is what I first thought. 

But when we opened the door and saw who it was we were relieved. Well, I wasn't entirely relieved because it was the friend who's wife had the baby shower I skipped out on. Damn. 

But when we filled him in on our recent bad news I didn't feel so bad. We've had a rough month...

-Missed Miscarriage

-D&C

-My husband's grandmother had a stroke and we had a late night rush to the ER, the way our luck is going she could pass away by Halloween. We're all still kind of waiting...

-Our cat ran out and a stray dog killed her

-We took the stray dog to the pound and since we told them it killed our cat in front of our very eyes I'm guessing it didn't last long. 

He said he was sorry he only brought us a political yard sign. 

How Stupid

How stupid was I? To think I could get pregnant again, so soon after the D&C. 

We discovered no heartbeat October 4. I was 10 weeks pregnant. The baby measured 9 weeks. I was sent home, told to wait. In my older posts I talk about the wait, and the decision, and the surgery. 

After the D&C my first cycle started October 22. I thought we could start trying again. I thought we could be carrying the news home for Thanksgiving. I thought this could be the week.

The doctor sat down in front of me today. One of her eyes is a little...off. Sometimes it rolls a bit, not much but enough to notice. I always try  not to stare, to focus on what she's telling me. It's only the third time I've seen her so, I haven't gotten over the initial- shock is too strong a word, lets call it "awareness." The initial awareness that something's not quite right with one eye. 

Anyway, she looks at me with her eyes, both of them this time, and asks what the plan is. "Um, well...I started last Monday, my first cycle. Bled for five days..." At this point see I was still thinking we would be back in the baby making sack by Saturday. I was thinking she was going to agree with me.  

"We're ready to start right away." I said that last bit positively, with certainty, this is what we want. 

My doctor looks like a grandmother. With a lazy eye. She's older, she feels maternal, she even sounds like a grandmother. Her speech is soft and a little slow, and she punctuates every bit of her bad news with a smile, a smile that says it hurts now but wait, it won't hurt long.  

"Well," she says, "you know when a woman gets pregnant so soon after something like this there is a 50/50 chance, " and I KNEW she was going to say "they get pregnant again." I was ecstatic! I had built this moment up in my head, I KNEW what she was going to say. 50% chance we'll be pregnant again, I'll be eating turkey for two by Thanksgiving. I knew she said that. I knew it. 

So stupid. 50% chance of being pregnant again? That doesn't even make sense. Where did I get that? 

"There's a 50/50 chance of another miscarriage." That's what she really said. And when you read in books that common little phrase, "took a minute to sink in," ha, I know exactly what that feels like. 

For the first time in my whole entire life something "took a minute to sink in." 

Did she just say that? Why? She's telling me to wait. She's telling me its safer. She's telling me she wants to monitor my progesterone. She's telling me it's better to do it this way. 

I don't believe her. And I'm angry. And I feel stupid. 

First Cycle Day?!

Am I having my first cycle day since the D&C?! No way. It's way to soon. But when I looked again, it was still there!

Shut. Up.

D&C on October 12th. Bled for three-four days. Then nothing. And today, October 20th- Hello! It's been exactly one week since my D&C. 

TMI? I'm sorry. Go find another blog, we're trying to get pregnant over here.

I see the doctor for my post-surgery check-up October 29th. I could be back in the game! 

D&C: The Surgery

The hospital scheduled my D&C for the wrong date but they were "adding me on." By the time the nurse in Surgery figured out the dilemma it was almost noon. I signed in and waited with my husband - a woman sprawled on the couch behind us was snoring, her pants were down and I could see her thong. I pointed it out to him and we shared an immature chuckle. There was an older guy on his speaker phone yelling about a car. He kept asking the woman on the phone if she was Sherry. Yes, she kept saying, this is Sherry. 

The nurse at the desk didn't have my chart. I told her I was scheduled for today but the hospital got the date wrong. "So you aren't having the surgery today?" She asked. "Oh wait, you're the add on." She produced my file and shuffled through the pages. Turns out I had no anesthesia paperwork in my file. I was starting to wonder if this was one of those eerie portents, a warning - maybe if I had this surgery I wasn't going to come out alive. And people would say, all those signs... the wrong date the wrong paperwork - why did she go through with it?

 I signed the permission slip - I give consent for the hospital to put me under and to suck out my fetus. 

When they finally swept me into Surgery, away from admits and the general hospital population, I felt better. I'm not going to say I felt great, but I felt better. My husband sat with me in a private room and stole Fall Risk bracelets from the desk drawer. He put on my surgery cap. We made fun of the hospital gown. The anesthesiologist gave him a sticker for good behavior. 

After the IV was in and  I was tucked under warm sheets waiting to actually go to surgery, the door opened and a young nurse entered. She had a pamphlet in one hand and a piece of paper on a clipboard. She handed me the clipboard and asked me to read it. I saw the words "Floral Haven," and immediately handed the clipboard to my husband. "You read it," I said. Floral Haven was a funeral home. Later he told me the form gave the hospital permission to cremate our baby's remains. I told him their timing sucked. The nurse handed me the pamphlet and then, because she knew the timing sucked, she snatched the clipboard and practically ran from the room. I looked at the folded up rectangle in my lap. MISCARRIAGE was stamped across the top. I handed that to my husband too. He handed me a tissue. 

The rest of the procedure went off without a hitch... as far as I know. They knocked me out in the operating room and I woke up thirty minutes later. The first thing I wanted to do was pee. It was also unfortunately, the very the last thing I wanted to do. 

But I peed, and thank god everything seemed to be okay.   

D&C: Wrong Day?

It was time for the baby to go. For two days after we found out I didn't take a shower. I didn't want to look at my midsection. That might sound weird. I don't care. It's part of why I'm writing this down. To get the weirdness out. 

For several days I kept thinking, there is a dead baby in there. When I got dressed I thought, I'm putting a shirt on over my dead baby. I'm walking the dog with my dead baby. I'm taking my dead baby to work. 

Horrible horrible thoughts. I was in a terrible melancholy mood. Friday couldn't come fast enough, and I think my husband would have agreed with me.

Friday morning I got up early and despite the warning not to eat or drink anything after midnight I had a cup of coffee. And half a brownie. In five hours my baby was going to get sucked from my uterus, I needed some chocolate and a little caffeine. I told my husband I wasn't supposed to eat or drink, but that I was going to eat this anyway. He was okay with that. It's one of the reasons I love him.

He also made us late. It's one of the reasons he drives me crazy. Schedules are suggestions to him. "You don't really have to be there two hours early," he said. 

"Yes. I do." 

"We'll just be waiting around for two hours." 

When we parked the truck in the parking garage we were already thirty minutes late. It was a fifteen minute frantic walk around the hospital looking for surgery before we found Surgery Admit. Despite the circumstances the nurse at the desk did not respond to my situation with "character." 

"You're here for what?" She asked.

"A D&C." I said for the second time since our initial introduction.

"What time were you scheduled?"
"One o'clock." I looked at the clock on the wall, it was 11:45. We were scheduled to be at the hospital at 11:00 for Pre-Op Admissions. But my husband was my driver, and I've already talked about his attitude toward schedules.

"What doctor?" The nurse asked, looking at a computer screen. 

"Blackstone." 

"What's your name."

I told her. Robyn Jones. 

"You aren't on our list. I don't have your chart. Can you sit over there please?" Sure, of course. I was dressed in sweatpants and no operating room to go to. This is why we get here two hours early. I started to cry.

The nurse came over after a few minutes with a piece of paper. I saw she had scribbled my name down. And it was spelled wrong! Relief was so intense I almost laughed. That's why I wasn't on the list. "My name is wrong," I said, "It's R.O.B.Y.N. Not with an I. It's my fault, I should have spelled it for you." Whew. I smiled at my husband, I don't remember if he smiled back. She shuffled off with my corrected name on her paper. 

"Is your birthday May 2, 1983?" She called from her desk.

"Yes." 

"I found you! But you are scheduled for 11/12/12 not 10/12/12," this time she was the one laughing. Not really laughing, just a chuckle, but to me it was a mean spirited hateful laugh. Like, you dummy you came in on the wrong day! Come back in a month. Haha.

"No," I said, "you have the date wrong. It's scheduled for today." 

She looked doubtful. "What are you scheduled for again?"

For the third time, "A D&C." 

"Let me call the surgeon."

Over the whoosh of the automatic OR doors opening and closing I could hear her muffled conversation with the doctor's office. I was having my own internal conversation with myself, I'm not leaving here with this baby, I'll go to another hospital, I'll find another doctor, they'll have to pry me out of this chair if they think I'm leaving without one less person- 

"Ma'am," the nurse was back. "We're adding you on." 

Thank you Jesus. 

Moving Forward

Two weeks. There was no heartbeat on Thursday. By the following Monday I knew two weeks was to long. 

If you have a dead baby in your body don't let it sit there for two weeks. Maybe that's just me.

I called my doctor. "I need a D&C." 

When they told us Thursday the baby would have to come out naturally or surgically I had never heard of a D and C. When the doctor asked, "Do you want a D&C," I automatically said no. I didn't even know what it was. I didn't ask a single question about it. I had to google it later, after the fair, when I realized two weeks was too long. I had asked my husband what was that D thing the doctor was talking about and he said he wasn't listening to that part either. 

Turns out a D&C is like an abortion. When I called the doctor and asked for one the nurse said they don't do them. Excuse me? 

"We have to refer you to a surgeon."

"How long will that take?"

"I'll get the process started and call you back."

"Okay." No. Not okay. Now that the decision was made I wanted one now. 

I reported the news to my husband. "Why don't you call another doctor," he said.

"Can you even do that," I asked, "can we just call another doctor and say I want...this thing done?" He shrugged. He had never done this before either.

I googled again. D&C, Surgeon, Local. I made the phone call. It was Columbus Day and our office was hosting a character building session for the employees. The word of the day was "character," and the guy doing the seminar who looked a lot like Joe Biden defined character as, and I paraphrase, the way a person reacts to a situation regardless of the circumstances.

When I called the surgeon I found on google the nurse who answered the phone reacted with what our Mr. Biden would have deemed, "with character."

"You're how far along?" She asked when I sobbed into the phone about a D&C.

"I'm 11 weeks now, I was 10 weeks when we found out."

"How far along did the baby measure?"
"10 weeks."

"Can you come in on Wednesday?" Of course I could.

I did better than my doctor. I got myself a date for a D&C that Friday before his office made their first referral. Despite a situation that seemed out of my control I think that I too, reacted with character. We were moving forward.