Eventually, exhaustion won over my husband. I tossed and turned and ruminated into the wee hours of the morning.
After a broken three hours or so of sleep, I awoke and was unable to fall back asleep. The torrential downpour seemed like the world's way of trying to wash away our sorrows. It didn't work. Eventually, the downpour morphed into typical Victoria drizzle.
I tossed. I turned. I took my basal temperature. I took my medications. I ruminated. I catastrophized. Then I left the present and retreated to the virtual reality of my phone for a while.
My husband woke up early when I was trying to get comfortable again. He decided he had to take me to the clinic this morning for his own sanity and comfort. My sister had offered to bring me, but I was glad to have my husband (who has the same cold) take me instead, so I wouldn't pass on this plague to her.
Mornings are course the worst time to go to a lab, but if you don't go early enough, you don't get your results before the day is out and then you're left waiting and wondering. The fasting people and the "early bird special" cohort who make up the majority of people undergoing lab tests are all there first thing in the morning. I decided to try to beat the wait by finally trying to book an appointment. I called Life Labs and they said I should register and try booking an appointment online myself, but if I had trouble to call them back and they'd book me an appointment. I wasn't thrilled by this unnecessarily convoluted process first thing in the morning, on very little sleep, with a horrific, unmedicated cold, and the weight of the world and my entire future on my shoulders (and pelvic bones). I tried registering online, but of course the system wouldn't work. I called Life Labs back, only to find out that there were in fact no appointments left for today (when they pulled up the list of appointments and looked, which they could have done when I called the first time).
I couldn't delay the lab test to another day with an available appointment, so we drove to the location of Life Labs where I have my standing order.
 |
| Why not wear cashmere pants and fur mukluks in June when it feels like the darkest winter day in your heart? |
We found two of the last seats available in the crowded waiting room, filled with patients who would probably have rather been solving sudokus at Tim Hortons or eating dinner rolls at Swiss Chalet. I worked on my blog post, while my husband tried to work remotely. It was difficult though, as cretins around us took phone calls in the waiting room, had alerts chiming on their unsilenced phones, and played loud mobile versions of solitaire with abandon.
 |
| This is our worst nightmare. |
 |
| I retreated to the bathroom for another selfie in their awesome lighting. |
The wait to move from waiting room to blood drawing cubicle was only about forty minutes. Then I waited about five more minutes in the cubicle.
 |
| Natural light or incandescent, doesn't matter, I'm miserable. |
 |
| Vampires prefer lavender coloured latex gloves. |
 |
| Lavender coloured gloves and a lovely blue rubber band to tie me off. Pretty! |
 |
| Arm candy. |
The drive home was quite quiet, except for occasional broken philosophical and existential expositions from one or the other of us and heavy sighs.
And then we had to go about our days as if we weren't bothered by waiting on the blood test that would likely confirm that we are not going to be parents. We felt numb, wooden, and raw.
On a side note, I just read two days ago that around 50% of pregnancies in the USA are unplanned. Not a statistic you want to read when you're in our position, twisting in the wind, as cruel fate plays tether ball with your heart.
We checked the lab results online towards lunch and they were not up yet. Agony delayed.
We checked again after lunch. Nothing.
My father called me to ask how I was doing. I told him that I was terrible. He said that I was always terrible and then he told me to look on the bright side. I told him that there was no bright side because in all likelihood I had a dead fetus inside of me or worse yet might have an ectopic pregnancy like my mother had had (and she almost died from hers). He suggested we have lunch soon. I said I didn't think I'd be up for going up anytime soon and in any event that I might have to have surgery. He suggested then that we put it off until the weekend. I was too numb to even cry at his insensitivity.
My father called me to ask how I was doing. I told him that I was terrible. He said that I was always terrible and then he told me to look on the bright side. I told him that there was no bright side because in all likelihood I had a dead fetus inside of me or worse yet might have an ectopic pregnancy like my mother had had (and she almost died from hers). He suggested we have lunch soon. I said I didn't think I'd be up for going up anytime soon and in any event that I might have to have surgery. He suggested then that we put it off until the weekend. I was too numb to even cry at his insensitivity.
I was being tested again for hCG, progesterone, and TSH to see how the levels were progressing or not. The hCG results didn't show up until the mid afternoon. It felt like the longest day of my life as I kept checking the website. When I saw the hCG results, my heart sank. At 82, they were sinking, rather than rising like they were supposed to. The fetus, or whatever it was, was dying or dead. The progesterone and TSH results were not up yet, but it didn't really matter, because we knew that what the nurse had said yesterday was for sure true, we were not going to have a baby.
Yesterday and today are the two darkest days of my life. I felt too numb and overwrought to even cry after the hCG results. I can't imagine ever getting over this fresh agony in my life. Worse yet, I have to grieve while I still carry a dead or dying fetus in my swollen body with tender breasts and I'm filled with hormones that make me feel even more emotional and irrational.
The ugly feeling I had had in my stomach earlier, worsened over the afternoon. I felt crampy and had stabbing pains in my stomach and abdomen.
The progesterone results and TSH results were posted around 4:00 p.m.. They were not good either.
I went to the washroom after reviewing the final results and I was bleeding. Any hint of a hope I had that the results were in error has been dashed. My body is vibrating with fatigue and emotional stress, I feel like I'm going to throw up, I have a strange tingly feeling across my abdomen mixed with sharp stabbing pains from my stomach all the way down through my abdomen on top of the feeling of cramps like normal menstrual cramps. My head aches, but I feel like I can't take anything. I want to feel it all and say goodbye to the baby that never was. In any event, no painkiller is ever going to dull the pain in my head and my heart.
I called the after hours nurse coordinator number at the Victoria Fertility Centre. She told me that I was in the first stages of a miscarriage by the look of the numbers on my lab tests and the sound of my symptoms. She warned me to have my husband come to the bathroom with me in case I faint from heavy bleeding. She also told me that it's best to shed "the remnants of my pregnancy" at home instead of at the hospital if possible. I should stay hydrated, but if I am bleeding very profusely, if I'm very lightheaded, or I'm fainting, I should go to the hospital. I must repeat the blood tests on Friday to see where my hCG is. And I will have to keep doing this until my hCG level goes below 5. Then I can think about next steps she said.
At this point, the thought of a next step is overwhelming and terrifying to me. It took me a long time and a lot of counselling and soul searching to accept that I could undergo IVF and that I was going to go that route. Now I feel worse than back to square one. My aversion to having IVF is back with a vengeance and I feel like I can't handle the pain, disappointment, physical strain, emotional roller coaster ride, and the possibility that I may go through all of that agony and still not conceive or worse yet, not carry the baby to term again.
I just keep thinking that maybe this just isn't meant to be and I should reassess my entire life and my goals and do something different, leave, and never come back. This has been the most agonizing experience of my life, because it's primarily emotional. I'd take a dozen more surgeries in my life, over this fresh emotional agony. In the fight or flight scenario, I feel like I can't fight anymore and all I can do is flee. But when you're running from yourself, there's nowhere to go.
Yesterday and today are the two darkest days of my life. I felt too numb and overwrought to even cry after the hCG results. I can't imagine ever getting over this fresh agony in my life. Worse yet, I have to grieve while I still carry a dead or dying fetus in my swollen body with tender breasts and I'm filled with hormones that make me feel even more emotional and irrational.
The ugly feeling I had had in my stomach earlier, worsened over the afternoon. I felt crampy and had stabbing pains in my stomach and abdomen.
The progesterone results and TSH results were posted around 4:00 p.m.. They were not good either.
I went to the washroom after reviewing the final results and I was bleeding. Any hint of a hope I had that the results were in error has been dashed. My body is vibrating with fatigue and emotional stress, I feel like I'm going to throw up, I have a strange tingly feeling across my abdomen mixed with sharp stabbing pains from my stomach all the way down through my abdomen on top of the feeling of cramps like normal menstrual cramps. My head aches, but I feel like I can't take anything. I want to feel it all and say goodbye to the baby that never was. In any event, no painkiller is ever going to dull the pain in my head and my heart.
I called the after hours nurse coordinator number at the Victoria Fertility Centre. She told me that I was in the first stages of a miscarriage by the look of the numbers on my lab tests and the sound of my symptoms. She warned me to have my husband come to the bathroom with me in case I faint from heavy bleeding. She also told me that it's best to shed "the remnants of my pregnancy" at home instead of at the hospital if possible. I should stay hydrated, but if I am bleeding very profusely, if I'm very lightheaded, or I'm fainting, I should go to the hospital. I must repeat the blood tests on Friday to see where my hCG is. And I will have to keep doing this until my hCG level goes below 5. Then I can think about next steps she said.
At this point, the thought of a next step is overwhelming and terrifying to me. It took me a long time and a lot of counselling and soul searching to accept that I could undergo IVF and that I was going to go that route. Now I feel worse than back to square one. My aversion to having IVF is back with a vengeance and I feel like I can't handle the pain, disappointment, physical strain, emotional roller coaster ride, and the possibility that I may go through all of that agony and still not conceive or worse yet, not carry the baby to term again.
I just keep thinking that maybe this just isn't meant to be and I should reassess my entire life and my goals and do something different, leave, and never come back. This has been the most agonizing experience of my life, because it's primarily emotional. I'd take a dozen more surgeries in my life, over this fresh emotional agony. In the fight or flight scenario, I feel like I can't fight anymore and all I can do is flee. But when you're running from yourself, there's nowhere to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment