The pharmacist looked at me kindly as he handed me my prescription: Misoprostol (Cytotec). Four little tablets that I pushed towards my cervix to ripen it and start the process my body couldn’t.
I lay in bed for a couple of hours afterwards and emailed my parents in Europe.
Returned to doctor today for second ultrasound. Baby didn’t grow, no heartbeat, confirming “intrauterine fetal demise”. Several signs that miscarriage process is beginning, but I decided to speed things up. Have taken a drug called Misoprostol which induces contractions, so something should start happening in 1-7 hours. I also have a prescription for Vicodin for pain relief. DH is never far from my side, and MIL is also taking care of me. She took me shopping earlier today to cheer me up and is on standby if DH and I need extra support. All very sad, but hopefully this is the beginning of the end of this sorrowful chapter. Love you both xx
Last night, cramping throughout the night. About as bad as I ever had before the laparoscopy I had to remove endometriosis. It felt like my uterus was being squeezed in a hot vice. Burning pains flashed the length of my vagina.
Since then, not much: hardly any cramping, and a feeble brown stain that a panty-liner could more than handle. Part of me wants to enjoy the Vicodin prescription; the other part of me wants to feel the pain in all its mad, visceral glory. Where the fuck is it? Am I once again going to fall headlong into the unfortunate statistical minority, this time the 10% of women for whom Misoprostol doesn’t work the first time around?
Why I didn’t just simply miscarry?
How can my head and my heart know one thing but my body be so in denial?
Today, I wept briefly. I had to return to UCSD for my MICRhoGAM (RhoGAM) injection. I walked into the waiting room and was amongst several women who smiled beatifically as they rubbed their growing bellies. I gritted my teeth and announced my arrival to the receptionist. Take a seat, she said brightly. I turned around and kept walking. I walked out of the waiting room and burst into tears, slumped against the wall.
I reminded myself that I do not know those women’s stories. I don’t know their journey to motherhood. I don’t even know that they and their babies are okay. All I knew in that moment was I had lost something very precious to me. And, when the medication finally kicks in, I will lose it all over again.
Lauren–
I miscarried with diagnosis of “fetal demise” on Feb. 25, 2013–I was supposed to be 7wk2days but measured at 6wk5days. I too had noticed my boobs and bloating had decreased maybe 3 days before the onset. I also did not have morning sickness. And like you, I chose to take misoprostol (but did not need a D&C). I’m also tall but not thin (more inclined toward PCOS than Endo). While I’m sorry that you’ve been through some difficult times, I’m comforted by the similarities in our stories–makes me feel less alone. Thank you for sharing!
Amanda, I am so struck by the similarities in our sad stories! I feel less alone for your having shared, so thank you for taking the time to do so. How are you feeling emotionally? Do you think you’ll TTC again in the near future?
Lauren xo
I just wanted to tell you that your experience sounds a lot like my own. It’s been nearly 2 years now, but your description of walking into the waiting room brought it back vividly. I am so sorry you are going through this.
Thank you so much, Rebecca. I feel quite alone, but then someone like you, a stranger, stops by and reminds me that I am not. I am sorry for your loss too. If you want to share your story, please do. You are welcome to post it in the comments section, or you could be my first guest post! It’s also fine if you prefer to keep your story to yourself.
Many hugs,
Lauren x
Hi this is Brooke from Expecting to be Expecting. I just read through your blog and I am filled with sadness and genuine heart felt affection for you. I am sorry this is happening to you and I totally understand where you’re at it.
Reading your post brought tears to my eyes… in a good way. I get everything you’re saying. I feel for you. I understand all those shitty, conflicting and seriously confusing feelings.
I’ll keep checking in to make sure you’re okay. You’re strong. So strong. And you have people who support you and understand you— including me.
Much love, lots of strength and understanding, B
Hi Brooke,
Lovely of you to stop by and offer your support. Thank you for reading my words, offering your support, and telling me I’m strong. I don’t feel strong :/
It’s good that people like us can find each other on the internet. Speaking of which, did you close your site? I really liked it. DH was the one who found you, your Saying Goodbye post. It so moved us both, and your honesty inspired me to start this blog.
So, thank you for everything. Much love and strength to you guys too.
Lauren x