Starting Week 27!

Peanut, this is the last week of the second trimester!  You weigh around two pounds and you are 14.5 or 15 inches long from head to heel.  You recognize my voice and sleep and wake at regular intervals.  Brain tissue is developing very actively.  Your lungs are immature but would be capable of functioning if you were born now.  You can now cry, and you probably are sucking your thumb, which calms you and strengthens your cheek and jaw muscles.  We love you very much.

Most women have gained 16 to 22 pounds by now--I have gained 12-13.  I'm proud of myself!  The acid reflux has been giving me a break for a couple of days, and I'm thankful.  However, I am dealing with a lot of soreness, occasional foot cramps, and exhaustion.  I still sleep okay, I can still get around fine, I don't have any swelling or discoloration, and my innie is still an innie.  

I am just about ready to quit my job.  It is a toxic environment where I get no support.  Every few days, someone "above" me wants me to add another thing to my list of duties.  I can't get it all done or even remember it all during the day, so then it doesn't get done, and people get mad at me.  Whenever I might try to complain about how heavy the load is, how incompetent/clueless/unhelpful the new administration is, how challenging my class is, etc, I get a reprimand to "be more positive".  

The main reason I still go to work is guilt.  I would feel incredibly guilty leaving the other TAs with an added load.  I would feel guilty about jumping ship just as a new teacher was coming aboard.  I would feel guilty about leaving parents/students in the lurch as everything they knew about their first year in school changed.  I would feel guilty that the school just threw me a baby shower, and I thank them by saying, "see ya".  

But is that guilt warranted?  Or is it a throw-back to my years of poor self-esteem?  Is it worth it to not have the guilt, and instead have the stress, unhappiness, demoralization, despair even?  Is it worth it, knowing that continuous stress causes premature birth and low birth weight?  As a side note, yes, there is the matter of no more second paycheck and having to start paying for healthcare about three months early...but we were expecting that anyway, and what I'm paid is a disgustingly low amount anyway.  

We had a regular appointment this week and everything looked great.  Peanut's heart rate was good, growth was good, and I took my gestational diabetes test and haven't heard anything yet, which is good news.  

Life goes on, but change may be on the horizon. 

Scare

Peanut, you gave us a scare today!  Or maybe I just scared myself.  I had the "perfect storm" of anxiety brewed.
First, at your anatomy scan, we were told there was a retroplacental bleed (an area of blood behind the placenta, between it and the uterus).  The doctor wanted us to come back in six weeks to check on it--worst case scenario, it could lead to placenta abruption, which would be very dangerous for me and almost certainly fatal for you.
Second, our sweet friends at church lost their little girl a week ago, and we were almost the same length of time along.
Third, I had gotten used to feeling you move at regular intervals over the last 10 days, and Saturday, Sunday and Monday I nearly didn't feel you at all.  My normal discharge decreased, and my abdomen was tender, but very firm.
So, I called the Birth Center Monday, expecting a "silly first time mom, everything's fine, don't worry", but instead they asked me how far away I lived and if I could make it in to check for a heartbeat today.  This frightened me so badly that I started to cry and could hardly think straight, except to call Jared and my mom.  I asked some friends to pray, and asked mom to help me by asking some people to pray.  Jared took off work for a couple of hours to come with me to the Birth Center, where they were running 30 minutes behind (SO hard, I nearly went rummaging for the doppler myself).  The midwife got me on the table and put the doppler wand directly onto Peanut's heartbeat.  It was just fine, between 140 and 150, and the midwife said she was moving right then.  She looked at me and said, "did you feel that?"  I said no, and she said that she felt it from outside my belly--Peanut kicked up at the doppler and physically bumped the wand away.  I didn't feel it at all!

So, I was so relieved that I started crying again, and then I felt really silly, like Henny Penny who ran around telling everyone the sky was falling, when really an acorn just fell on her head.  I am very thankful for all the people who were praying for us--I was able to keep fairly calm after that initial response from the phone call.  I'm sure that was due to prayers.

Useless Update

At my appointment with the birth center last Tuesday, I had two exams that went fine, and blood work done.  The blood work came back normal in every way.  I also had an ultrasound on Saturday.  The sonographer couldn't see a thing wrong with me--said she couldn't ask for a more perfect looking set set of ovaries and uterus.  So there are still no answers.

I did stop bleeding last night and haven't really bled in the last 24 hours.  But I'm not ready to say I'm healing.  I stopped bleeding for five days at the beginning of this month, and then things got really bad.  Maybe if I don't bleed for 10 days, I can say with certainty that I'm healing.

I cancelled my regular doctor's appointment on Friday where I was going to talk about anxiety.  I guess I was hoping that I would be better soon on my own.

Tomorrow starts my second full week of kindergarten, and I've got to say, I'm not a fan.  I've done three years of first grade assisting, and when I started kindergarten last year, I came in the middle of September, when the students all knew the rules and were familiar with the routine.  When they come in at the beginning, they know nothing.  I find myself very tired all day, all week.  My patience runs thin.  I loved first grade, but now the school system has changed it so that first grade assistants are paired with 2-3 teachers, instead of one.  I've done that before and didn't like it at all.  I'm not ready to look for something else, but I wouldn't shut the idea out entirely.

No Answers

Tomorrow, Wednesday, will be seven weeks since my D&C.  I've bled for all but five days of that.  It's been getting progressively worse since last Friday.  Today at work, I was losing so much blood I felt light-headed, faint and a little dizzy.  It's still not enough that I should go to the ER, but I seem to get closer each day.

I went to the birth center today.  They did two exams, blood work, and will schedule me for an ultrasound later this week.  I was told it could be one of three things: (1) this is my period (it's not because I'm not cramping at all and I have passed large, solid chunks of tissue), (2) my uterus is infected/inflamed (I'd need an antibiotic and then back to spotting until God knows when), (3) there is "retained product" (stuff left over) from the D&C in my uterus (this would require waiting it out, again, until God knows when, or going back into surgery for another D&C.  And I will be damned if they get me back in there alive.)

So, my whole existence and outlook on life is one big "I don't know" right now.  I don't know what's wrong with me.  I don't know how long it will take for me to heal.  I don't know if I will heal.  I don't know if God cares about me.  I don't know if God is listening to me.  I don't know if God will heal me.  I don't know if I will ever be OK again.

I have been noticing some things about myself in the last few weeks.  It's harder for me to make and maintain eye contact with others.  I stutter in my sentences and say many words with the last letter first and the first letter last.  Or, I say two words but they come out in the wrong order.  My hands shake, and I grit my teeth and purse my lips all the time.  I am going to my regular doctor on Friday to ask about anti-anxiety medication, to help me get through this.  I hope that can lessen these issues.

I have no answers.  I have next to no hope.  If asked, I would say that the worst possible thing that could happen will prove to be what's happening, and I will probably never heal.

Even More Confused

Definitely not pregnant.  Possibly infected.  I've been too upset the past few days, so I called the Birth Center this morning and spoke to the midwife on call.  I told her that I was having anxiety over the fact that I was still bleeding, and that I didn't know how much longer I could take this.  She said it was "unusual" for me to be bleeding six weeks after a D&C and asked a few questions.  She said it was good that I had no clots or heavy bleeding, and asked if I had a fever.  I told her I didn't think so, but I hadn't checked.  It got me thinking, though, that I had noticed my face seemed hot from about Wednesday on.  She eventually told me to call back on Monday to book an appointment to be seen, and we hung up.

I went to take my temperature.  I had a fever of 99.7.  About 20 minutes later, I'm outside and feel this "gush".  Run inside, and I'm streaming out bright red blood (no clots).  Call the midwife back, she says as long as the fever's under 100.5 and I don't fill a pad in an hour, I'm okay.  That the fever's probably from the cysts in my leg, and that the bleeding is probably my period.  I hang up feeling pretty good about stuff.  A little crampy, but satisfied that we're finally moving forward.

Fast forward 3 hours, and the red blood and the cramps are gone.  We're back to brown spotting.  The fever is supposedly gone, although I think my thermometers are faulty.  There's no way I'm 98.1.  So no, Ms. Midwife, this is not a period, yes I am still spotting from a D&C that was SIX AND A HALF WEEKS AGO and that fever is probably related to my reproductive health, not my cysts.

I am staring down an empty barrel that used to contain patience, hope and trust.  Now I just feel neglected, ignored and permanently broken.

The Cost of Care

I think I've now received all the hospital bills due to my miscarriage.  In total, I owe $1800 to UNC.  Since the experience was so terrible in the first place, it's rubbing salt and alcohol in my big, deep wounds. 

We have less than $1500 to our name right now.  I think I am going to pay $25 a month to the hospital, and $10 a month to the physicians.  It's really all we can afford.

When I realized the total amount that I owe, my first thought was, "If I have a second miscarriage, I'd rather die than go to the hospital.  I can afford that better."  And I can't imagine that I am the only one who has ever had a variation of that thought.  What does that say about our healthcare costs, when I'd rather die at home than go to the hospital?  It makes me so angry and frustrated that I have no power to control the obscene costs of healthcare. 

Waiting to Move on

It's been three weeks since my D&C surgery.  It's been 4.5 weeks since we found out about the miscarriage.  It's been six weeks since the actual miscarriage.  Part of me feels like it's been ages, and part of me feels like it's still brand new information.

I am still bleeding.


I'm involved this week with our church's version of Vacation Bible School, and yesterday I did a monologue of the woman who had been bleeding inside for twelve years, who was healed by touching Jesus' robes.  On the inside, I sort of hoped for a miracle, that God would dry up my bleeding as I did my monologue, pretending to be someone that it actually happened to.  


I am so, so tired of being reminded of my grief and loss every time I go to the bathroom.  I just want to be better.  I just want to be permitted to complete my healing.  


And I want the world to know that this is Okay.  It is okay for me to not be alright.  It is okay for me to continue grieving, more than a month later.  This child was alive, and it died.  That is an aching loss that will take more than just a surgery and a few weeks' time.  


I have kept very busy these last few weeks--various doctor appointments, visiting friends, preparing for a large party this weekend, VBS, end-of-school-year stuff.  Part of this is a help, because it keeps my mind from dwelling on the sadness.  But the other part is that I feel too busy, like the margin in my life is gone and I'm living in a continual crisis-mode.  And that wears me down, physically, mentally and emotionally.  






Angel, I miss you.  I love you so much.