Miscarrying is never easy, but twisted as this sounds, I think it gets easier to “get over” when it keeps happening, like a flare of anger at everything in the world, and then soon after, it’s like what the hell, what did I expect. I’m 28 and have lost four, Cody is 26 and has lost three, do we really expect that anything will come of this in the end? Not anymore. My latest loss was at about 16 weeks. I don’t have this belief that it can’t happen to me, because it has happened, and happened again and again and again. I’ve had more miscarriages than the average American woman has pregnancies. We don’t know why it happens like this, but it does.
We’ve both done everything right. I’ve given up my favorite foods (do you have any idea how much I love tuna and raw sushi?), I’ve given up my favorite drinks for the caffeine in them, and I’ve given up my beloved ballet classes. Before getting pregnant I whipped my butt into gear and lost about 180 pounds to get to the best weight for this. We arranged our lives so I wouldn’t have to work while pregnant but could instead dedicate myself to relaxing and having the time to eat right. My drug-addicted whorish cousins have no problem getting pregnant and bringing babies to term while doing crack and drinking nightly, multiple babies in teen years, and here I am, unable to get one past 16 weeks (my first), despite doing everything right. Do you have any idea how temping it is to live their lifestyle and see if there’s some magic behind it? What I’m doing clearly isn’t working.
One of the things you learn when infertile and have suffered repeated miscarriages on top of it is just because you’re pregnant, there’s nothing to say you’ll stay that way. So I’m pretty stupid to have presumed it would stay that way with me just because we saw both heartbeats, and they were both steady and strong.
And after so long of being injured and re-injured, the scar tissue on the heart begins to get thick enough that it takes a lot to penetrate and feel anymore. I don’t feel any happiness at being pregnant anymore with this remaining one, and almost wish I wasn’t so that losing this baby will just get over with and I could go drown myself in our alcohol cabinet.
Right now I feel a lot of bitterness. It’s about all I can feel. That and cynicism. Perhaps not surprisingly, I’m also rather self-absorbed right now, and apologize in advance if these less-than-desirable temporary traits become apparent in any replies I make. I assure you, it’s not my intention. I’m just not in a good mental place right now and am mostly shut off. When I shut off, my better judgment goes out the window too.
So today I had an appointment with a high-risk intake nurse. All my medical records or not, I am easily high-risk at this point. Tomorrow I have an ultrasound in radiology, which I guess is better than the regular ones. I don’t know. If anyone can fill me in, I’d appreciate it. We’re going to try to determine what risks this remaining bean has, and if there are any clues as to what happened to the other one. The chance of this one being just too hidden for a clear view is so unlikely that it’s just stated as a loss instead of a probably or possible loss.
I guess all I can do here now is try to be supportive of others and take another loss with a grain of salt, or maybe a whole truckload, and feign joy I don’t feel. Maybe if I hit 20 weeks (ha!) I may feel some happiness again.