October 22, 2012 at 6:46 pm | Posted in Heartbreak | 26 Comments

(I am having a really hard time writing this post, for so many reasons. Please bear with me.)

The past week, the waiting for The End, has been awful. Charlie Brown is home this week – until Saturday morning. And then he’s away for the weekend, and then back on a plane to Ohio next week.

It’s causing me undue stress; the worry that I won’t miscarry naturally and will need a D&C on a week he’s not here.

Or that something will go wrong if I DO miscarry naturally and I have to go to the hospital while Charlie is gone, and what would I do with Lucky if that were to happen?

Or I will miscarry naturally and not get it all, and still have to have a D&C at the end of the day.

And honestly, this waiting is undoing me. Physically, I am still pregnant. My body BELIEVES I’m pregnant. I am nauseated most of the day and my boobs are still huge and sore. Right now I absolutely loathe looking at myself in a mirror. Because I look like I am early into a pregnancy. And where last week it made me happy, this week it makes me want to scream.

Emotionally, I’m a wreck. I feel pregnancy symptoms, and I have hope. Maybe the little embryo is defying all odds, the slow heartbeat AND no meds, right? – and will turn into a real baby. And then I remember the statistics, how there was no yolk sac, and the gestational sac was irregular, and that 71% of pregnancies with slow heartbeats between 6 and 7 weeks end up terminating prior to the end of the first trimester. And then I get mad for hoping, and I grieve all over again, because it’s just all so cruel.

I need to have this over. If this pregnancy isn’t going to end with a live baby, I need it to be over now. I need to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart and start to put things back together.

So I called my clinic this morning, and I asked if it was possible to schedule a D&C on Friday so that I knew if nothing happened before then I wouldn’t have to worry about next week.

They called me back a few minutes ago. They can’t have me in on Friday; the surgeon is booked through 6pm. But they had an opening on Wednesday, which they booked me for.

And tomorrow I go in to confirm no heartbeat via ultrasound.

Here’s the thing: Every choice I have, right now, is awful.

Wait, and bleed on my own, whenever my body decides to figure it out and let go of this pregnancy. And go on with my life as if nothing was happening, as if it was just an everyday, normal occurrence, to pass an embryo that I once thought of as a baby.

Or to end this pregnancy medically with a procedure, clinically. To have them scrape what I thought of as my baby out of me.

I am aware that I live in a time where I am lucky to have the choice for a D&C. In the past week, I’ve thought a LOT about the politicians who are trying to create “personhood” laws, where they say that if there’s a heartbeat, there’s a person.

Because. My baby had a heartbeat last week, and I still made the choice to stop my medications. And today, I made the choice to go in on Wednesday and have a D&C.

It goes without saying that I hate these choices. If I really had a choice in the matter, I’d have chosen a VIABLE pregnancy, one that turned into a live baby at the end.

Instead, my choices are limited.

I don’t want a D&C. I don’t want to have a dead embryo in my uterus. I don’t want to miscarry. I don’t want to be where I am today, grieving over lost hope.

But, you know, I have a choice. It’s more than a lot of women had before Roe vs. Wade. It’s more than I’d have if the religious right agenda had the kind of power they wanted and got to declare any bunch of cells a “person.”

So today, I am thankful for that choice.

Even if it means that choice is breaking my heart.



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  1. Serenity, my heart is breaking for you. Many, many hugs.

  2. Wrapping you up in a comforting, sisterly hug from across the miles. Wishing these were not the choices before you and that the effect of choosing wasn’t devastation.

  3. Crying as I read your post and type this comment. My heart is breaking along with yours. xoxoxo

    I can’t remember if you have had a D&C before, but if you have the option, you may want to ask to be put under for the D&C. I was conscious for mine and I felt things during the procedure that made an already traumatic experience even more so.

  4. You’re in my thoughts. Big hugs

  5. I know all of these emotions. My heart breaks for you, love, completely and totally. I needed closure, even though I didn’t want it. It was right for me, despite the whole thing being so very very wrong.

    Much love to you from my heart.

  6. I was in a similar situation last fall. Slow hb, irregular sac. It was a spontaneous pg so I wasn’t on any hormone support. I also wasn’t allowed to schedule a d&c until the hb stopped – which took 2 or 3 ultrasounds over a period of about a week and a half. My body was chugging along as if everything was fine. It was absolutely horrible watching that hb get slower and slower but not stop. You are lucky your clinic is a little more proactive than mine was…we all knew the end was coming, but had to wait to schedule it. So bizarre and isolating.
    My heart goes out to you. I am just so very sorry, and I too remember not even wanting to look at myself in the mirror and being so full of a horrible mix of self loathing and blinding grief.

    • Oh, how awful. My RE told me last week that if by the next ultrasound, the embryo hadn’t grown and/or the heartbeat was slower, they would be able to call it “imminent m/c” (or something to that effect) and be able to schedule a D&C. Today’s ultrasound will really tell us if I can do tomorrow’s procedure. I can’t think too much about it, but it would make this decision a hell of a lot easier if there’s no heartbeat today.

      • My heart is with you today. I hope the outcome brings you some measure of peace.

  7. Oh hun, I am so so so sorry. My heart is breaking reading this post.
    hugs and love.

  8. This is my first time stopping by your blog and wow- I just read this post twice. I cannot fathom having the strength you need to display right now- thank you so much for writing something so emotional and poignant. I’ll be thinking of you and sending as many good thoughts as is possible.
    Adding you to my reader as well!

  9. Brave post. Good for you for posting this. I’m sorry you are going through this.

  10. Oh, Serenity, I’m so, so sorry you have to make these horrible choices. I’m sorry for your losses. Thank you for stopping by my blog while you have so much going on. I really appreciate your support.

  11. I wish all this was not written. But you wrote it and it is beautiful. And I am sorry for your choices and your heartache.

  12. I’m just so sorry this is where things have ended up. I’m so angry, on your behalf, at the universe. You remain in my thoughts.

  13. So heartbreaking. I am so sad for you and so sorry for all the hard and unfair choices that you have to make. Hugs

  14. I know there’s nothing I can say to make things better. So I’ll just say that I’m sending my love to you. XOXO

  15. I am so sorry. I had a similar thing happen and I will tell you the waiting and the false hope are the worst. There is no way to move on, to grieve when there is still a heart beating…. I did the same thing as you, scheduled the D&C, but I started to bleed and miscarry the day before for which I am so grateful for if gratitude is the right word. I hope you heal, both heart and body, quickly.

  16. Oh Serenity, this sucks so bad. Many hugs to you. Whatever happens, I hope you have someone with you. I miscarried naturally (2 chemicals and one at 11wks) and I certainly don’t recommend going through it alone (I passed out after the last one and was lucky my husband caught me). Our bodies are strong, but our souls need company at times like this.

  17. My heart breaks for you. These are the shitties of choices. Truly. They are choices NO ONE should ever have to make. I wish you didn’t have to make them either.

    Abiding with you during this impossible time.

  18. Wow. Powerful writing.

  19. I’m here from ICLW and so sorry to read that you’re going through this terrible time. You are right that all of your choices are horribly heartbreaking, and it’s so unfair you have to make one. Wishing you peace and light as you head towards a resolution.

  20. I can understand everything that you are feeling right now. I know that nothing anyone can say will make you feel better. It just sucks so bad. I am so very sorry that you have to deal with this. No one should have to make any of these kinds of choices. Thinking about you.

  21. here from ICLW – I know that there isn’t anything to be said to make you feel better, but I’m so sorry to hear of the loss you’re going through…

  22. So sorry you have to be faced with this choice, and I definitely understand needing it to be over in some matter. I hope today’s ultrasound will give you helpful information.

  23. You are totally right. All of the choices suck and are not ones you want to make. No good options here but I completely understand just wanting it to be OVER. Hugs and love to you.

  24. Oh, sweetie. I’m just catching up. I am so incredibly sorry. I hate that you are going through this. Sending so much love. xoxo

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