I am furious and terrified. I can’t cry, try as I might. The pebble imagery isn’t working today and my actual pebble is nowhere to be seen. Just as well. I might hurl it at something fragile.
The Misoprostol didn’t work Monday night so I take it again in an hour. Who’s to say it’ll work this time?
If nothing happens by morning, I am looking at having a D&C under a general anaesthetic, I’m guessing at the end of next week.
I can’t even fucking miscarry! I screamed at DH. I hurled a book across the room which precipitated sobbing that shook my whole body. It only lasted a few minutes but it was the longest bout so far. (DH took it in his stride, but my poor dog cowered in the corner. It’s been a tough week for him too.)
I’m furious I can’t cry, and terrified my anger will swallow me up.
I’m furious my two-year-old niece is staying the night, and terrified my heart will be hardened to all children and their parents.
I’m furious that the minority statistic of miscarriage happened to me, and terrified that I will never conceive again.
I’m furious that I fell, yet again, into the minority statistic of women for whom the Misoprostol didn’t work the first time around, and terrified that I will need surgery.
I’m furious that my body is so far refusing to cooperate, and terrified that, during surgery, I’ll haemorrhage and require an emergency hysterectomy.
Well you damn well better be furious! This moment in life is sucking. As my dear friend Charity would say, that’s just more sucking in the frying pan of suckitude.
Two of my dear friends here have recently miscarried, and you know that one of the most surprising things for them was the strangeness of the reactions. You think you’ll do one thing, and maybe that happens and maybe it doesn’t. It can scare you because you think you know yourself so well (which YOU do!).
Also, another friend had two or three D&C’s before having a healthy, lovely boy. Her OB was like, “I don’t want to see you in here again for this,” and I think her response was, “You AND me both!”
I love you!
Thank you for accepting me and my rage!!
I’m getting closer to revealing my identity. The only thing holding me back is fear of being judged when I am at my worst and vulnerable. Most of me wants to tell the world that I, Lauren Lastname, had a miscarriage and I’m not ashamed. Thank you for your love.
By all means, share this link with your friends if you think they would benefit from reading my words. I’ve had some incredible responses from strangers the past few days and I am beginning to see all the more clearly how important it is to connect with others who have shared this pain.
Love you xx