Insensitive: Everyone is bad at this

Today, Eric and I went to his parents house before he had to work so that he could get the last of his things out of storage at their house.

As I’ve said before, his mother took it upon herself to tell EVERYONE about the pregnancy.
Including the next door neighbor who, I guess, is a few years older than myself and Eric and has known him since childhood.

As Eric and I were leaving, we saw this particular neighbor.
He asked, Eric confirmed.
He apologized for our loss.
In the same breath, he said “but I’ve got one on the way soon!”

I sobbed the whole way home.
I don’t believe that any person who takes a moment to think about the feelings of others would do that.
He even said that his girlfriend had three miscarriages before this pregnancy, so you would think he’d have some semblance of what you do not want to hear when you’re going through a miscarriage.

I don’t have much else to tell.
I’ve been sad and weepy for the past week.
The long drive back and forth to get Eric to work is a long time to think about things.

Life is funny sometimes.
Life hurts.



Life is still feeling kind of fuzzy. Still having cramps, still bleeding, still readjusting to life back in my old bedroom in my hometown.

Since the miscarriage I’ve been finding myself extra attached to my pets. Today I stopped at the pet store with Eric before he went to work. I got my mice a ball for them to roll around in as well as a few treats and toys designed to wear down their sharp little fangs. Shiro got a HUGE bone that he is sure to enjoy. Eric didn’t want me to give it to him until he got home so that he could “See the joy in his face.”
Shiro and I spent a lot of time today closed up in the bedroom watching netflix, organizing our things, and reading articles.
Shortly before writing this, we sat and shared a poptart as we watched Family Guy.

I’ve had pets before. I’ve loved them with all my heart.
November of 2011 my dearly loved husky/cocker spaniel mix, Bandit, died. I miss him everyday, I still cry sometimes. He was the only constant in my life as a child and it breaks my heart to think about it.
I love and miss Bandit more than words. My mother and I spoke of him today and we both cried together. He was wonderful, we had him for almost 12 years before he left us.
I’ve never felt such a deep loss.
Even now, the pain of miscarriage feels so miniscule compared to the pain of having lost that dog.
Still, though, I don’t know why it is, but I never referred to him as my “best friend”

Right now though, as hard as it is to get along with him sometimes, I feel that Shiro has become my best friend.
My whole life has been turned upside down and I spend a lot of my time alone. My mother no longer seems sympathetic to my loss. I feel very alone. It’s always just me and Shiro.
I don’t know that I could keep going the way I do if it weren’t for Shiro.
He needs me to get up and walk him every so often, he needs me to tend to his food and water. Sometimes he just needs affection. Those needs are sometimes the only catalyst for getting off the couch and doing something, no matter how small.
I’m glad I have him. He is my baby.

Last night, after Eric and I finished getting the last of our things out of the apartment, we headed back to my mothers.
It’s about a 30 minute drive. It was nearly midnight and the through the whole drive, things seemed very still. There was a lot of time to think.
I thought a lot about Lily.
I finally asked Eric about her.
He’s known for a couple days now that I’ve given her a name. I don’t expect him to use it.
He didn’t say much. He just listened as I explained my coping methods.

I started to cry. I told him how lonely it feels to be the only one who cares about her. To be the only one who really misses her as a person and not just an idea. The only person who feels anything.
I asked him when he was just over it. I knew he was disappointed at first, but since then, it seemed he was only sad because I was.
He admitted to still being sad about it, but seeing no point in being said and wanting to not keep worrying about it.
It was nice to know he missed her.
It would help a lot more if he were more willing to open up about it. I still feel very lonely.

I thought about getting a Peace Lily. In honor of my own peaceful Lily.
I learned, though, that they’re mildly poisonous to dogs. I could never live with myself if the memorial for my little girl harmed my little boy.
I’m also concerned that, with my black thumb, even the hardy peace lily would not survive. I can only imagine how painful it would be to see that I couldn’t even maintain the one thing that could keep her memory alive.

I’ll have to find another way.
I’d like a tattoo for her, but of course, funds make that unlikely anytime soon.
Maybe someday though.
For now I may settle on an angel pin with a diamond. The birth stone that would have applied to Lily. It would be discrete, as it would applied to both myself and her father as well.
We were hoping to be lucky enough to have her for our birthday.
She would have been the best gift.

I’m afraid for my 22nd birthday. I don’t know how painful it may be. I don’t know how much longer I can feel like this.


Yesterday was our big moving day.

We got up early, packed up the animals and headed for moms.

My brother helped us move, as did Eric’s brother. My dad let us borrow his truck.
It could’ve been worse.

So here we are. By this morning, I’m already not loving being home. I love my family but I’d rather have my responsibilities AND my privacy.
Now I have not much of either.
I woke up, it was okay at first. It was a cozy, bed in a cozy bedroom with wall to wall carpeting, unlike our all hardwood apartment.
I checked my email, checked the weather, asked Eric to take the dog out. (Our dog still doesn’t get along very well with my mothers, so it’s an ordeal. Our dog sleeps in our room, her dog sleeps with her).
Of course, with the dogs, there was lots of howling and barking. My little brother didn’t like that. He cried and yelled.

Then my grandmother walked in the door.
All hell broke loose.

Eric went back to bed and everyone calmed down a little.
Mom made more coffee and us three women sat around chatting about life, and moving, and landlords.

I already miss walking around in my underwear, or nothing but my big fuzzy robe. Having free reign of the small, dinky apartment that we called our own.
Hopefully, this won’t last forever though.

I have some big news though, and I’m surprised that I’m not feeling so bad about it.

Yesterday, I had very few cramps.
On the way to our apartment for the 2nd or 3rd time I had what felt like the beginning of contractions, but it never progressed.
We were almost to the apartment when I felt sort of a bubble. I thought it was just blood that was about to gush out, but when I got out of the car, nothing happened.

I went into the bathroom. Still nothing.
I looked into the toilet to see if there was any blood. Then I saw it.
This big, grayish, translucent blob. Just hanging there.
I had to physically remove it.
It was appalling.
But once it happened I felt better.
I thought I would either feel great, knowing that it had finally happened or feel worse, seeing it for what it really was.
But I just feel peaceful.

By the end of the day yesterday I was feeling pretty down.
I had been having some clots throughout the day, not lots of blood or cramps.
I had finally passed what seems like the Big Show, I had moved out of my own, independent apartment where my boyfriend and I were starting and life and, at least for a little while, a family, in favor of my mothers home in my old bedroom where I have lived for the last 14 years.
Everything was conflicted. I’m still having mixed feelings.
I hope that I can adjust well. I’m tired of feeling crazy.

Never Have I Been So Wrong

In my last post, I thought that I had seen the worst of my miscarriage experience.

Until last night. And this morning.

The physical and emotional pain were killing me.

Yesterday, I was in pretty okay shape. We went and helped my dad a little, we got some things moved out of the apartment and we had a good time overall.

That night, about 7:00, we were still at my mothers, just kind of hanging out and chatting.
I started getting contractions again as I was trying to get my laundry together.
My mother insisted I sit down, got me a heating pad, and folded the laundry (she’s a saint).
This went on for what seemed like ages, but was really probably maybe an hour, a little more.
Finally I went to the bathroom. I felt the blood. It was alarming. Much more than the previous night.
I passed a lot of small clots and even discovered a small, smooth looking spherical *something* I have no idea what these things coming out of me are.
By 8:30 or so I was feeling a little better, so we got in the car to come home.

I had about half an hour at home before it started again. Not as bad, but terribly sore and ache-y. I passed quite a bit of blood. I hardly slept all night. I woke up several times in pain and needing to use the bathroom and change my pad.

This morning I was sore, but mostly okay.
I did a little bit of cleaning and then the contractions started again. This time for almost an hour again, but nothing productive. There was very little blood and no clotting.

The pain has been on and off all day, but there hasn’t been much blood. I still don’t know if this means I’m almost done or if I still have more to go.
Until today, I don’t think I truly knew the depth of the emotional pain and turmoil I can expect from a miscarriage.
Last night, the pain was bad enough that emotionally I felt next to nothing until it started to subside.
On the way home from my mothers, I cried. A lot. Eric could do nothing. I felt bad. I wanted his help. I’ve never felt so lonely.

During the night,  I was tired and in pain, so emotions were nil. I felt okay, I just wanted the pain to stop.

By this morning I was tempted to call the doctor for some good pain medication. Tomorrow I’m supposed to spend the day moving. Driving back and forth, hauling boxes, dealing with family.
Honestly, I partially wanted medication to dull the emotional pain as well. I’ve been numb all day. It’s killing me.

I was supposed to spend the day packing. Eric was at work and tomorrow morning we have a lot to accomplish. Shortly after my pain subsided this morning, I thought I would be okay. When we got in the car for him to go to work, I started sobbing again. As I was driving it was all I could do to not stop by the gas station for cigarettes. I haven’t been a “smoker” in a little over a year. Some days are harder than others.

I didn’t accomplish much today.
The bathroom and the kitchen are pretty well boxed up, but that’s about it.
That didn’t even happen until about an hour ago when I got a call from Eric that cheered me up a little, so I had some motivation.

I sat in bed, wrapped in my robe, heating pad on my belly. Intermittently bursting with tears.
I perused forums and blogs and articles about miscarriage. I spoke to other women who had suffered a blighted ovum.
I learned the ways some women commemorate their children.
Within the past few days I’ve even discovered my baby’s name.
It’s Lily.
I’ve known for almost as long as I knew I was pregnant that I was pregnant with a little girl. I could feel it. It feels appropriate now to refer to her by her name.


I’m still trying to find the right path through my grief.
I don’t want Lily to be forgotten.
I feel like I’m the only one who feels the loss. I know Eric is slightly disappointed, but he’s over it, apart from having to see me in physical and emotional pain, he feels okay, he wasn’t attached.
Everyone else is “sad for me” but not sad for Lily. They don’t even know her name. They didn’t feel her presence.

I think that, at the very least, I soon will get a ring or a necklace with her name on it.
I’m leaning towards a necklace, so she can be close to my heart.

I’m really feeling this for the first time.


It was the hardest thing, sending Eric off to work today when the only thing I wanted was for him to be there with me.

I feel miserable. I don’t want this anymore.

Update: The worst is over?

Be aware, it’s about to get TMI in here:

Yesterday I went to my friends house for her birthday party for a little while before Eric got out of work.
Once he got out, we were supposed to go back, but on the way to get him I started getting horrific cramps.

We ended up just coming back to the apartment so I could rest.
Good thing too, because it only got weirder.

The cramps started coming in waves again. Then they stopped. They came again but were milder this time.
I won’t get into the details, but Eric and I haven’t had sex in a while, we decided to try it, with condoms and gentleness of course.
We knew we were advised against it, but sometimes in the spur of the moment you can’t see the risks very clearly.
It didn’t hurt, but there was an uncomfortable pressure as soon as we started, so we stopped.

I stood up to get dressed and felt this incredible pressure within me. I assumed it was just a lot of blood, so I rushed to the bathroom.
A fairly large mass came out of me.
By the time I was able to get up and really investigate, there was so much blood and whatever this mass was had sunk to the bottom.
It didn’t look like any clot I had ever seen, and I hadn’t had any clotting or anything this whole time. Although throughout the day I had a few strings of something but I wasn’t sure if it was mucous or just thickening blood.
The rest of the night was mild. I had some pretty bad cramps immediately after and another gush of blood (I say gush because, for me, it was a lot, but it wasn’t all the much, it just happened very suddenly). After that, it was done.

When I finally went to bed I had a little more light cramping, but I haven’t really had much bleeding since then.
I’m starting to feel slight pressure in my lower abdomen/pelvis, but nothing terrible.

So, even though I’m not sure, I’m hoping that this means it’s coming to an end.
I’ll wait it out and mid-next week maybe I can get in to see the doctor.
But here’s hoping that the worst is over.

Now, I’m off to help my father clean up the property he’s planning on giving us next summer.
I’m not sure if he knows of the miscarriage. My sister asked if she could tell him, because he’s always asking her about me, and I told her I didn’t mind either way. I’ve messaged her to ask. I figure that with my sometimes debilitating cramps I’m going to have to take breaks sometimes and probably not work for very long, so it’d be nice to know what to say to my father. Whether I have to break the news or just let him know that it’s happening now.


Everything is dark.
It’s painful.

I’m waiting patiently for Eric to come home.
He only worked till 7 tonight, but he went out with a friend (who I do not like) and is currently at his apartment.
He should be home soon. I hope. I can’t stomach being alone much longer.

Today is the first time it really seems unbearable.
The bleeding hasn’t gotten any worse. But the pain has been relentless today.
I’ve not left the couch and my heating pad.
I haven’t eaten anything, save two pieces of toast this morning.
I don’t hunger for anything. I just want to sit here and cry and waste away.
I see so little point in everything.

I want to stop.

I’m supposed to be going to my friends birthday cookout tomorrow evening.
The last thing I want to do is socialize. I’m afraid her nieces will be there.
I can’t deal with children right now.
They seem to be everywhere. But none of them are mine.

Somehow, my only comfort has been my beloved dog.
He needs me to get up and take care of him. The only times I’ve left this couch have been at his urging. He nuzzles me when I cry. I know my depression is bothering him. He’s not as energetic as he once was. I feel awful about it. I wish I could take his pain away, but that would require me to get rid of mine.

Last night I went to pick up Eric from work at 11. I got there and my friend was also there, getting supplies for the cookout on saturday.
She asked how I was doing. I told her. She laughed. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but no matter what it was I’m sure it did not warrant a laugh.

Nobody is taking this seriously. After 3 weeks everyone thinks that I’ve recovered mostly. Until I physically started miscarrying I had. This is a whole new ordeal.
It’s going to require time. But nobody realizes. No matter how much I try to explain it.

Miscarrying is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve never been more alone.

My First Night Back

Eric and I are moving next week.
My mother came over to help us pack up most of our things yesterday.
It was productive. The apartment is so much more serene now.

My friend “T” came over last night to visit. We hadn’t seen each other in a while. Things have been strange given the recent events.
We discussed what happened over the past couple weeks, we rented a movie, we decided to have one last hurrah while I’m still in town.
Over the past few months, we’ve collected a lot of half bottles of liquor. T is diligent about coming over to help us get rid of some before we collect more.
That was not our original intention last night, but that’s what happened.
We decided to go to the liquor store to get pre-mixed long island iced tea.
We had a grand time.

On the way there.
T admitted to feeling like a bad person for being glad that I’m able to drink again. We discussed it. I feel stronger about it, of course. My emotions are still everywhere. But it was nice to have a night where I didn’t have to feel for a little while.
I got to go back to my life.It was conflicting, but it was a nice break from reality.

This morning I bled again, then stopped. Throughout the day yesterday I bled lightly. No real clots, certainly no tissue.
This afternoon, as I was getting ready to take Eric to work, I had to lie down because the pain was so bad. I was in agony. It cleared up, but throughout my drive there and back I had intermittent cramping. When I got home I passed a lot of blood and then it stopped again.

No exciting updates.
I’ll be sure to post more when it gets interesting.
Regardless of what happens I have to call the doctor next week to make sure things are moving smoothly.

Update: The Eagle Has Landed

Bare with me, this may take a while.

I’ll start this story where I last left off.

I went to the doctor yesterday.
My ultrasound tech thought that I had already miscarried.
As we walked in, she said “So, do you think you’ve passed everything?”
I assured her I had not.

I ended up seeing the midwife that I spoke to at my first appointment, she was much kinder, but talked a bit much for my liking.
She said that my ultrasound still showed no changes. Although I didn’t ask her, I looked carefully at my ultrasound. The sac seemed different, misshapen. My hope was that this meant things were going alright.

I told her that, as long as we could emotionally handle it, that we would like to let it go until it happens naturally. She told me that that was a reasonable choice and that, since the doctors were not in that day (it was a surgery day) she would call me after talking to them and seeing how long the doctor was comfortable letting me wait it out.She warned me of what I might experience and she said that, if I can, save any tissue that I pass so that they can see if I have passed everything (we’ll see about that).
Before leaving, she also told me that my PAP, from my first visit, showed an abnormality. They’ll have to do more tests once the miscarriage is over, but there shouldn’t be a reason to panic, especially because pregnancy can evidently mess with the results of your PAP.
My Great Aunt Sheila died of cervical cancer when she was 35, I believe. She’s the only one. It’s unlikely that this strange result means anything. I’m not worried, but her death was something that crossed my mind.

Around 6pm, the midwife called me. Dr. Daniels (a doctor I had heard of but not yet met) said that standard practice is to wait no more than 6 weeks after the original diagnosis. I am at 3 weeks. This seemed sufficient to me. Six weeks being pregnant without a baby seems like a long time to suffer. But that point I would surely be ready for a D&C.

Now for the meat of this story:

It’s begun.

Last night was awful.
I started getting cramps again, worse than usual, and they seemed to be coming in waves. My hips and my back hurt immensely. It got worse if I was still, so I spent a good portion of the night cleaning and sitting down briefly to rest while rocking my hips to try to get through the pain.
Finally around 1, I got ready for bed. I got in and then decided that I should put on a pad. I was certain that this was it.
I fell asleep. I woke up a few times in moderate pain, mostly in my back. When I got up this morning, I knew something had happened. I felt it. I went to the bathroom and bled quite a bit.  No solids, except for a few small clots.
Once this is all over, I’ll probably write a full post on the experience, so let me just say this for now:
After reading up on childbirth and all the weird things that go with it, I’m a little astonished that, to begin birthing my non-existent baby, it reminded me of those accounts of childbirth.
I know a lot of women say that miscarrying felt like giving birth, while others say that it feels like a bad period. I assumed that, because of the circumstances of mine, it would be more like that latter.
Once the waves started it felt incredibly primal. In between the bouts of pain, I was at peace. I felt womanly and comfortable. I felt that my body was doing what it needed.
As much as I’ve been dreading this miscarriage, the physical act of miscarrying is freeing, for me at least.
It’s proving that, although my body failed at this pregnancy, it does not fail at taking care of me.
All of this may change. Today I have mild bloating and a few cramps so far, but nothing terrible.
I don’t know if it will get worse or better or how I will feel once large clots and tissue start coming out of me.
I do know that I’ll be sure to let you in. My story is not the majority, but it is one story about what a million women are experiencing.
This will be okay.

A Rough Night Into A Rough Morning

Last night, I spoke with my mother on the phone.
I asked her her opinion on my options, how each one would tear me apart and I didn’t know what to do.
Her suggestion was: D&C
It would kill me a little inside, but I would be able to move on much quicker.
I respect that logic, and considered it.

After Eric got home, I talked with him.
Unless something is going on in there: Wait it out.
He again said that it is ultimately my decision, saying “Just wait. If that’s what you want.”His diplomacy is difficult sometimes.

That night, as always, Eric stayed up playing his video game after I had gone to bed. I tried to make it clear that I would like to have him in bed with me if only until I fall asleep.
He didn’t get it.
He seems to think that my wanting to have him with me during times like this, after being alone all day long, means that I have a problem with him playing his games.
We fought. I thoroughly explained how I don’t like being left alone all day to sob and cry and worry only to have him come home and ignore me.
I need him. I know this isn’t as painful or upsetting to him as it is to me but the fact that it’s killing me is exactly why he should be there.
If only for a little while. Just until I fall asleep.

After I ranted about needing him, he held me for a long while as I tried to stop the heaving sobs and the panic attack.
He agreed to come lay down with me. He even made me a hot cocoa. We cuddled and I felt much better.

Men seem to think that, once things have been logically spoken about and sorted out, that everything is done. Because there’s nothing more to be done about it, there’s no need to worry.
I suppose there’s a solid reasoning in there, but nothing about this is reasonable. I don’t need to talk it out with him anymore. We’ve done that most days for the past month. I need him to be there because life is hard and no matter where I get my support elsewhere during the day, it’s important that the one person who is really 100% in this with me be there at night to hold me when I try to fall asleep and can’t because all the thoughts I’ve avoided and rationalized during the day are bombarding me the moment I get to my quiet place.
Eric is my happy place.
That sounds needy and codependent.
But what woman doesn’t want to be with the one she loves most during times of turmoil.
I want to be with the man who has consistently worked, if only after some prompting, to make me happy and make me feel safe.

I still spent a lot of time debating and reading.
I struggled with the pros and cons.

If I get a D&C:
I can move on much faster.
I don’t have to wait for things to happen on their own at a possibly difficult and inopportune time.
But there may always be a sense of “I killed my baby.” No matter how inviable the pregnancy was.

If I wait it out:
I get closure. I know that this is what my body is supposed to do.
I don’t have to worry about the risks of surgery. General anesthesia makes me nervous.
I may start miscarrying when I am home alone. Stuck suffering by myself, scared.
If things don’t come out entirely, I could bleed for weeks, only to end up with a D&C afterall.

It’s hard.
As much as I can’t cope with the thought of waking up one morning and finding what was supposed to be my baby scrawled in pink in my toilet bowl, I cannot handle the idea of someone else MAKING me miscarry. This is something that should be done on my and my babies terms.
Pending something disastrous, my intention is to wait.
Maybe I’ll even have the courage to try those herbs and teas I’ve spoken about.
With any luck this will be over soon.
I can only stay like this for so long.

Harder Than I Thought

Just a quick update on what if feels like to have to call your doctor and tell her that, after you pregnancy didn’t go as planned, now your miscarriage is not going as planned and that you will need to see her.

I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon for an ultrasound and to meet with the doctor.
I still don’t know what to do.
Originally I thought that I might want to go ahead with the D&C if nothing is happening, but the longer this goes on the harder it is to accept. So while it might be a wise idea, in theory, to go through with the D&C so that I don’t have to sit and wait and wonder any longer, I’m afraid to do it. In my head, I’d still be killing my baby. Even if it doesn’t exist.

I’m sure that, regardless of how the conversation with the nurses had gone, I still would have been upset after scheduling the appointment. Realizing that this means that, once again I’m going to have to see my empty uterus. Knowing that there’s nothing in there but still hoping and burning that image into my mind while trying to find something that just isn’t there.
But when I spoke to the nurse, who had to clarify that nothing had changed so that she could put notes in my chart.
Before transferring me to the scheduling department she said “How are you doing?”
I knew what she meant.
I choked out an “Oh, well enough.”
To which she replied, “I know. It’s hard.”
She went on to transfer me and that was that.

Fortunately, Eric took his 15 minute break shortly after, so I was able to call him.
It wasn’t much help. But it was nice to not be so alone for a little while.

I still don’t know what I’m going to say to the doctor tomorrow when she asks me.Eric tells me to do whatever I want, but I know that, after discussing things a little, he seems to be in favor of the D&C. He just doesn’t want to see me suffer like this.

It suddenly feels so fresh. Like the moment I found out.
I’ve struggled with it for weeks, but I’m not closer to a resolution.
I have no idea what I’m doing.