I thought about leaving the envelope, unopened, on the counter. I knew what was inside: the first doctor’s bill — and the first of many.
The microwave dinged, I took out my lunch, and slowly chewed my food. It’s been hard for me to eat the past 10 days. (My stomach is also being uncooperative.)
I tore open the envelope, and stared at the breakdown of costs.
02/26/13 PHYSICIAN $xxx.xx
02/26/13 ULTRASOUND $xxx.xx
Tears began to roll down my cheeks. I don’t know why. The sum itself wasn’t too shocking, but seeing that fateful date, forever etched in my mind, next to the word ultrasound was too much for me to bear. I should have been 9 weeks and 6 days today, getting ready to announce my pregnancy to the world. Instead, I’m finding the courage to slowly and quietly spread the news that I am having a miscarriage. I am reminded that I am loved, and I have never felt more loved.
This Sunday is Mother’s Day in the UK. I know for some women this day will be a painful reminder of their child/ren lost. I think the day will have more significance for me than it ever did, but it’s October 5th I’m dreading. That was the day I was supposed to become a mother — or so I thought. I know, I know… only 5% of women actually deliver their baby on their due date, but it’s the only date I have and I know it will be tough. If I am pregnant again by then, it will be bittersweet. If I am not pregnant… well, I don’t know how tough.
As of now, it’s been almost 48 hours since I took the second dose of Misoprostol. I wonder how small the percentage is of women for whom it doesn’t work at all. It’s given me pretty bad cramps and I’ve passed a few clots, but it’s nothing like the experience of miscarriage I was warned about. I guess I am headed for a D&C.
Fears aside, the other reason I didn’t want a D&C is because I feel like I want to delivery my little bean myself. If s/he is just scraped out of me, the tissue will be treated as medical waste. On the one hand I find this distressing; on the other, I am not sure what I would do if I expelled the tissue myself. I don’t think I could bring myself to flush it; nor do I want to keep the remains in a freezer until such time as I do know what I want to do with it. In an ideal world, I think I would have the tiny remains cremated.
But until I know for sure that the little bean is gone from my body, I can’t help but wonder what the date will be when I cease to be pregnant.
And what date will it be when I find myself pregnant again?