This post was supposed to be a happy message, one that I'd been keeping to myself before springing it on you guys with barely contained enthusiasm.
This was supposed to be a pregnancy announcement.
My due date was 9/20/2017, although it was probably closer to the beginning of October. Against all advice, I'd already decided on names. We told both of our families. I told my employer. My god, we were both so excited. It wasn't planned, of course, but that didn't dilute any part of our happiness. I was going to be a mother.
But this Monday, my body decided that it wasn't going to happen. After a whole night of severe bleeding and cramping, I spent nearly all day on Tuesday in the ER, barely able to walk because of the pain. The blood test verified that my hcg levels had decreased dramatically, and any hope I'd held onto that this was just a warning to take it easier was lost. The next day, I took another sick day and slept as often as I could in between the cramps and trips to the bathroom to change out bloody pads. And oh, did I cry.
I know that miscarriage is common - at least one in four pregnancies end that way - but that doesn't make it any easier. My OBGYN was empathetic and kind, letting me know that there was nothing I did wrong and there was nothing I could have done, but I had grown so attached to the little thing inside my uterus. Only four days prior, I had seen it in an ultrasound; it looked like a little deformed seahorse, and I'd cried looking at it. That was my little deformed seahorse.
I'm feeling somewhat better today, a bit closer to emotionally normal, although my doctor told me my body wouldn't be back to itself for a few months. I'm still exhausted, and every now and then, I have a mood swing. Like yesterday, I bawled because UPS sent back my package after trying to deliver my A&P I lab kit while I was at work (seriously??), and the day before, I was ridiculously confident that I could do one of my marathon walks but only made it down the block before wanting to crawl back into bed for seventeen hours. In some ways, I'm ... glad isn't the word, but it's all I can think of right now, because I'm going back to school full-time in the fall (nursing school or bust, y'all) and I took a job that does not provide insurance so the pregnancy would be considered a pre-existing condition, making it difficult to find affordable health insurance options. That doesn't change the sadness I feel right now, and I suppose only time will help with that. And maybe someday in the near future, I'll carry a baby to term, welcoming it with open arms.
But for now? I'm going to focus on me. That's all I really can do.