Oedipus, pass the fork please.

My only consolation.Maybe.

I don't think scrotum fold intertrigo is too much to ask for. That, and some mites.

[And this is how you scare them all away]

Of pachiderms

Nothing much to see here, words behaving like birds today.

Sleeping is still a problem, or rather, the waking up after a few hours is. A few days ago I was woken up by a furballing cat on the duvet at 4 am - always at 4 am - and couldn't go back to sleep till 9 am. Does wonders for my intelligence and wit. I promptly opened up a new post window and stared at it for abt an hour. I was trying to address D.'s comment but I still cannot, other than to say, it wasn't abt taking the high ground at all, sure, we need to fight back but I don't see how actually fighting with them when there were more of them than us, when our group as a whole doesn't know how to fight - are you joking? Take a look at the photograph again, do we look like we can kick any ass other than our own? I had to quit my krav maga lessons bcs they all came from martial arts and the pace was unbelievable so I ended up sparinging something every single time and only learning how to actually have the shit beaten out of me by someone who wasn't actually trying to hurt me but there you go, that's the sad amount of my proficiency and fitness. Also, they carry knives they are wont to use, we do not. Believe me, I have been thinking abt it and daydreaming of physically hitting them. I might never but I would dearly have the skill to, that'd give me some more security, that would give me a mental edge. As it is, how should we have handled it? I'm not being snarky, I really want to know what you think we could/should have done. Sad as it may be, if I ever got in a fight with some low-life neon*azis and managed to break a few noses and cause a few hard-to-heal bruises and verlasting scars - it'd be lovely! You think I'd feel bad for my fellow humans? Er, what fellow humans would that be? As it is, unless we decide upon an essay contest or wit, I will lose, easily and fast. My being stabbed or beaten into a pulp WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST CHANCE OF FIGHTING BACK, and this is the important thing to remember, won't do much to bring us out of the ghetto as far as I can see.

The title is not abt my cervix, all seems to be healing well. Experienced quite a fair amount of discomfort all of last weekend, unable to stand for long periods again and generally achey. My most excellent and knowlegdeable doctor friends told me it's a good sign, means the endometrium - which was scraped raw, all squeaky clean - was regenerating. Kudos to my endometrium then. I mean the other sort of elephant.

I haven't been mentioning Uzi a lot. I still think abt him so often it surprises me but no longer speak abt him here all that much. I feel like it's all been said bfr. More than that, I think I have lost the ability to say it. I'm often left staring at the screen. But I had this miscarriage and I couldn't tell him. And I know he'd have said at least 2 wrong things bcs he'd be tripping all over himself in his haste to comfort me, and it would have shocked the bloody hell out of him (though maybe it'd have enticed him to send me some garinim) (oh and books) - but I don't care. I don't care much what happens after we die, we cannot know for sure and by the time we do it's all a bit moot. Maybe I'll see him on a higher plane and we'll travel together as blue light blablabla. Maybe I'll reincarnate as his mother, sister, dog, owner. Fabulous. How does that help me? How does that help me now? I want him now, I need him now. NOW.

As I said, nothing much to see here.

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I may be even dafter than I fear, I very effectively forgot to write abt the most important thing: my dreams. Fitting theme for today. My dreams have been populated by babies, it's a constant pregnant landscape. I am either fleeing trying to save my babies or someone else's. People are wonded and dying and dead and as a bonus often have pieces of their faces missing, and I talk incessantly in order to convince them to help me. I run all the time, renn Lioness renn, and wake up fragmented. The most telling dream so far was one where I ran and ducked and held guns and used them and dodged bullets and looked among the ruins for survivors (gorillas take a long time to die, I'm afraid) and then finally managed to have my baby - but Uzi was too late to witness the actual birth of our child. Often when I dream of him I know he's dead and therefore spend most of my time trying to squeeze the life force out of him, as it were, trying to hold on to him, to memorise his voice, his laughter, the way his shoes sounded on the pavement, the way he walked and smelt. I have often not been able to listen to what he was saying bcs I was trying too hard to keep all of him in. This time I didn't, and from within the anger that I feel over how the whole miscarriage process was conducted - very incompetently at times, I'm still putting it all together -, from within the loss that I came to feel, this is what stands out the most, the old one, the pervaisve one, the abrasive one. I am still whole but there used to be more of me, THERE USED TO BE MORE OF ME. That embryo might have been something but it never was, it couldn0t be, I can let it go peacefully. Uzi was everything and I sometimes sleep throug it. THIS is still what hurts the most.

It doesn't much matter what you lose does it. At the end of the day, all pain gathers together namelessly in the pit of you, dragging you down, dragging you down...

Cooter-wary

Went in for my post D&C check up at the public hospital, all is well. I also didn't pay for this one bcs, even though I am no longer pregnant, I am recently miscarried enough that I am still exempt from paying, as all pregnant women are. Losely translated, I suppose this means I am hanging to the sisterhood by a pubic hair and not the sort that gives your nether regions that tight, fluffy, composed look. No, rather the appalingly long sort that your elderly Aunt Jane is bound to find imbedded in the soap while visiting you oh dear. That sort of pubic hair.

As for my entrails, uterus back to normal size, no pain, cervix firmly closed, slightly bloody mucus but hardly any bleeding left (more like a bit of spotting really, almost non-existent). Also, there was a med student there this time who couldn't stop staring at my knees. I am a bit sorry I didn't do pointing motions while enunciating clearly Cooter WITHIN. Maybe he simply could not believe his luck, Ob/Gyn AND Dermatology. Hope he has a blog. Ha, hope I find it.

The dr. said I need to take some iron tablets and need no more antibiotics or anti-inflammatories (we will see abt these last ones, Saturday was rough). She also said there can be no shagging for a whole month since I had to have a D&C. Which surprised me.

DEAR BARREN BITCHES/MEDICAL READERSHIP:

Let's have an academic discussion, shall we? Literally at that bcs I am too busy peeling myself off the floor every day to even contemplate sex [unless it's like in the monkey and the pachiderm joke], but. BUT. I must admit I was a bit thrown. No man is a human-elephant hybrid. [Taking a brief moment to thank mother nature for this fortunate state of affairs] My uterus lies behind a thoroughly inaccessible cervix, yes? I should expect no sex till all symptoms are gone and I am fully healed (oh and sleeping, sleep would be good), let's say 2 weeks - but 4? What am I missing, have I led a too sheltered life? Or, on the contrary, does she think I am the lithe guru little Thai women flock to with their pingpong balls and tamed doves for further enlightenment on All The Things You Never Dreamt But Nevermind, The Tourists Will Never Forget It?

Ye Gods. Nu?


----------------------

Allrighty! Have given up my hormones, am thoroughly fed up w having them. Have proclaimed moratorium. As of now, am the proud owner of none, YES I AM. This morning after seeing the dr. I went to buy some groceries. After a while I couldn't stand it anymore so I came back w only half the things I wanted. I am craving Mexican food these days (try and understand my having cravings now, hysterical, yes) but was unconcerned bcs we have Uriad beans (or something) and they're black, albeit tiny, so they'd do. Besides, aren't the spices the thing that gives it the ethnic flavour? Ok then. I didn't have much for lunch bcs I couldn't eat, was slightly queasy due to lack of sleep, [NEEDED CENSORING, SORRY ABT THAT!]

Yesterday I cried watching V for Vendetta.

And just now? Just now I went into the Haagen-Dazs site so I could check the spelling and found out you lot have BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE ice-cream and we do not, and it will take ages till we get it here, and I am so fucking unhappy over that I could say I could cry but that'd have a literary effect only if I weren't already.

*sigh*

Shittier than not

I barely sleep these days. When this all started, abt a week ago, I'd fall asleep easily and wake up too early. Now I fight falling asleep, have bad dreams, sleep lightly and wake up every time I blink, it seems. Stupid cat pawing things off the nightstand all night long isn't helping much either. And I'm weak, I can barely walk small distances without having to rest for a bit. Meh.

Last night saw a flurry of tears bcs I still don't fit in all my clothes (also what happens when you quit smoking and, in my case, what continues happening after you resume smoking), my hair looks disgusting, no one seems to understand Portuguese when the time comes to highlight it, plus I seem to have managed to expel an embryo in the course of a week and not very proficiently at that.

I am more exhausted now than right after the D&C. Bloody hormones.

------------------

PS - Bulls and Jesus seem to go hand in hand here, bullfighting is rampant in the country and why not add some spice to your bloodless Easter. A bull escaped in a city in the Algarve and roamed the streets for a good while. Cars were damaged, a few people were lightly hurt, the police ended up having to shoot the bull and managed to graze a civilian as well. This was a gentle bull [cabresto]. Now tell me I do NOT live in the armpit of Europe. Go on. I'll wait.

Closer To Fine

This is rather long, I wrote it mostly to purge, to lay it to rest. It is also decidedly unpleasant. If you can't be bothered to read it all it's all right, we are both fine, the worst is over, skip to the last paragraph.

On Tuesday we had planned on going for the 2nd beta at 1.30 pm but E. received a call for a job interview at 10 am and they wanted him at their offices bfr 11, and so, bcs the hospital is nearby, we decided I'd drop him off and drive there and he'd come join me and then we'd come back home. Bcs there wasn't a lot of time left, he walked the dog and then she came w us (she is used to waiting in the car for us, asleep). I dropped him off, drove to the hospital, parked in the underground garage, walked up, asked where the lab was and by that time I was slowly shuffling along the corridors, holding my belly w one hand. When I got there I could barely sit and I had at least 15 people ahead of me, so I asked the lady at the counter if they could speed things up. She took one look at me and the reason for the blood test and I was the first one to be called in. The technician who saw me assumed I was going straight to the ER from there and frankly, so did I. It had become literally painfully clear that this miscarriage was going to happen, and sooner than later. I shuffled all the way to the ER, was sent up almost immediately, and then tried to sit in that waiting room until I felt like I was going to faint. I couldn't find a position that didn't hurt, the contractions were very painful, I felt absolutely nauseated and slightly disoriented and decided to get up and ask a nurse for some sugar to place under my tongue. I then tried to go to the bathroom (yes, constipation makes the pain much worse, I learnt that basically with my 1st period) where I found I was passing clots again and more blood than the days before. I went back to the waiting room (dragged myself there from wall to wall) bcs I was afraid I'd pass out if I stood but I truly couldn't stand the painof sitting, or even reclining, so I went back to haunting the corridors. At this point I was near tears and I think I'd have cried if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on not passing out. I coudn0t sit and I couldn't stand and I couldn't call for help and the corridor was deserted but for 2 drs. who'd been talking and laughing for what felt like a good while and I was feeling absolutely desperate when one of he drs. saw me - hard to miss - and asked me if I was waiting for something. I whispered A miscarriage, he said I needed to be seen immediately and asked if I could walk to the examination room, and I slowly shuffled there, so relieved someone was going to see me. I was in too much pain to climb onto the table on my own, and wasn't by then really too surprised to hear him say It's a retained miscarriage (don't know what it's called in English) and then i asked if the pg was absolutely not viable and he said it absolutely wasn't, but the sac was intact and they thought it'd all come out whole, and then he told his colleague I looked too pale and they should keep me there anyway and had I had blood drawn and I whispered Beta, he said I'm afraid we don't need that anymore, and his colleague said Yes but we have no beds and he said Let's put her in the recovery room with that other lady who miscarried as well and they said tehy'd be back in a minute and I said I cannot move and so I remained perched at the end of the table w my feet on the dr.'s stool and head btwn my knees, feeling wave after wave of nausea and pain and wondering when I'd topple over and then I decided I'd feel more comfortable if I wasn't bleeding on me anymore so managed to get up and put knickers back on but then sat on the stool and held on to he stirrups for dear life and don't know how long i was there but pain got worse, nausea did too, i was shaking and sweating somuch I had to removemy jumper, and then i saw 2 feet near mine and a woman asked if i was all right and I said Miscarriage, she asked if I'd been seen, I said Yes, she called a nurse to bring a gurney and fluids and painkillers, we waited, thegurney arrived and I climbed onto it somehow and just lay there, sideways on my belly, and while the nurse tried to find a vein in my wrist to draw some blood and then set up the IV drip I felt my mouth fill with saliva and I actually thought Vomit centre activated and then I started spitting the saliva onto the floor bcs I cannot really vomit, seems my body doesn't know how to even when it's needed, and really, it's amazing what happens to your sense of decorum when you're in that much pain bcs you will puke, spit, moan and nevermind who sees your bare arse or that you're causing a mess, you're beyond caring, and at that moment the other 2 drs returned and the 1st one, the one w the 2 feet whose face I hadn't seen yet and never would said I saw her as I was walking past the door and she looked terrible, she needs a room and they said they'd gone to find one (still think I shouldn0t have been left alone while bleeding w low blood pressure atop an examination table w my head forward) and then they wheeled me there and the ride didn't help the nausea much, and I asked if I could have something for the pain and they said they'd given me something and was I not better, and I said no and asked for something stronger, an then I crawled onto the bed on my hands and knees bcs it felt less bad then rolling on my back, and then they gave me something more but it didn't help much, and I had to try and ring Emanuel and my parents bcs I'd forgotten my mobile and the dog was still in the underground garage and no one was answering, and finally I managed to reach E. and tried to give him directions for the car but he was so panicked he kept interrupting and saying I'm on my way and I had to start from the beginning bcs I needed him to contact my parents as well, and then I was given an anti-emetic for the nausea and more painkillers and the pain diminished a bit and I dozed off and then I felt a touch on my leg and he was there and I thought he was going to faint bcs his face was absolutely white, and he could barely touch me bcs he was afraid he'd hurt me or give me an infection and he told me the interview had gone very well [when my father came round yesterday he exclaimed But you look much better! and that's when I found out that even when the analgesics were working my face was dead white and my lips were bloodless the whole day till I came out of the OR, and my mum was so concerned bcs my eyes were sunken in and when she told me this it occurred to me that I must have looked like one of our cows when they're very ill, and then yesterday also I found out I was anaemic, had a low HT but normal Hb and a definite leukopenia which now has me on antibiotics, but all things considered I'd say this isn't bad at all]. Then my mother showed up, my father was in the garage w the dog, and then Emanuel got a call saying he'dpassed on to the 2nd phase and they wanted to see him at 3 pm and he got white again and sat down and held my hand and all he could say was Too many emotions today, too many emotions and then E. left and I went to the bathroom bcs I could feel my sphincters contract just by looking at the bedpan, no way ever, and as I sat there I realised I could vomit after all, and I did, repeatedly and neatly into the conveniently positioned bidet (and you wonder why we love them) and then I felt a bit better but it didn't last, bcs then the analgesics wore off and so did the anti-emetic and my poor father came then when I was at my lowest and really, this is what I'd been trying to spare them from, I don't think it does them any good to see their child, no matter how grown up, in that much pain, moaning and trashing in bed bcs every position hurts and makes the nausea worse and by then I couldn't not do it, and then I turned on my belly again and I found out I was a repeat vomiter after all and I only had time to throw the vomit bag onto the ground bfr I was wracked bt a series of vomits that left me disgusted and depleted, but the nausea was a bit better, and then i asked my parents to bother the nurse till i was given more Primperam and pain killers, and the nurse said they had and now they couldn't anymore bcs the Dr. was going to do a D&C after 4.30 pm and I asked why so late and it turns out I'd eaten a small flat biscuit and drank a coke at 10.30 and now needed to regain fast status for fuck's sake and no more meds till then and was I all right with the D&C and I told the nurse I didn't care if it was invasive, I couldn't stand that much pain anymore and they could take my spleen as well if it helped, just make it stop and the time from 3.40 pm till 4.50 pm was truly horrendous but they must have given me something bcs the pain got a bit more manageable, and I remember the woman in the other bed saying You haven't had any children yet have you and I said No and she said I know, you were unprepared, this is what labour feels like and let me tell you right now, right now nothing could be further from my mind than being pg again, I'll need to forget abt the pain first, and then I got up to go to the bathrroom, my father had gone home to bring the dog and only my Mum and E. were there, and some other dr. showed up and gave me a pill that is actually designed for stomach trouble but can be effective at inducing miscarriages, and after abt 30 min I felt that solid gushy feeling and this amazing, AMAZING, UNVEBELIEVABLE coagulated mass rushed down (and E. nearly fainted) and I thought I did it, it's over, and I couldn't believe it, and the nurse came and called the dr, and she came and took one look and said No, this is just blood, and she felt my cervix (and fuck, painful!) and said it was softening a bit but I'd never make it on my own so let's get her prepped for a D&C and I thought Fuck, ONLY blood, how can that be and how long did the blood have to pool to create an amount that fits in my cupped hands only, and then they came to wheel me away to the OR floor, and I was beside myself bcs there was an end to the pain in sight, and I was placed in a corridor just outside the newborns' room, I actually think it may have been the prematures but I couldn't see very well, but I did see one tiny baby with flailing arms and legs suckle for the first time, and I could hear them meowling in their tiny voices, and for some reason I found it deeply comforting to be surrounded by live babies and live mummies and really, this is how it should be for everyone but since it isn't, this is how it should be for the majority, my own pregnancy had made me so ill, E. sat by my side still holding my hand very lightly so as not to infect or break me, and he mumbled I hate hospitals and me, I love them, I'd not have survived as a baby without them, or as a child or adolescent for the matter, and now, without a hospital I'd have suffered and suffered for days, probably not passing the sac bcs I apparently do good implantation and that blighted ovum embryo was firmly put, and by then the infection that was just starting would ravage me and I'd die, how could I NOT love hospitals, and then the pain was gone, they ust have given me something stronger in preparation and I quietly lay there listening to the babies and mothers, and then the nurse came and helped me to the bathroom, she pushed the saline on wheels and I held onto my flapping hospital gown bcs by then I gave a shit again who saw my fat white arse, and then I shocked her by asking her how many D&C's Dr. Jorge [NOT LIKE SPANISH! Sounds like "gorge" but the J is like the French one, ok? Jór-j.] had done, and had he ever left a tiny leg or arm inside and she sniffed and said she couldn't answer that but hey, it's my uterus and my life, and then I was wheeled in and the thougth that I'd not feel that pain again was exhilarating, I couldn't care less abt the anaesthesia, and I'd made my peace with the end of this pregnancy, that embryo was a very ill one and I hope had not developed enough to experience pain but it was sick and it was impossible and one of us needed to come out of this whole and so I let it go, and I asked Dr. Jorge to please keep in mind that I still intented to put this uterus to good use so would he pay extra attention, and then the Anaesthesiologist started talking to me and injecting stuff and asked me if I felt any difference, and I said no, and she said All right, let's give her Propofol now, and I lay there annoyed bcs I couldn't remember whether Propofol was a beta-receptor blocker, or an alpha-receptor or what and I should know it, and then I felt the induction which is as anguishing as I remembered it bcs you feel you're dissociating from your body and I always think this is how dying must feel like and the Anaesth. asked if I felt anything and I said I certainly did and either I was dying or being induced and she actually jumped a bit at my cheekiness or what have you and told me not to even say that word in there, and then the last thing I remember is discussing sushi, which is not a bad last memory at all, and then I was woken up against my will from a very deep and comforting sleep during which I even dreamt good dreams, and the first thing I noticed was that my lower back wasn't hurting and it was the first time in over a week, and then I noticed I didn't feel any pain whatsoever, or nausea, NO NAUSEA, NO PAIN, and I was starving and felt alive for the first time in a long time, and they asked me how I felt and I said Splendid, when may I go home? and they laughed and wheeled me out and I saw my parents and E. and cheerily waved at them and then a nurse came into the recovery room, where I was w 2 C-section mothers and their little newborns and she said I cannot believe this is you, you look so much better! and I stared at her and realised this was my nurse, the one I'd had in the other room and I hadn't recognised her, and she said You went through such a rough time, poor thing, I’ so glad you’re feeling better, every time I came in you were on your hands and knees rocking back and forth and do you know I barely remembered this but it's true, she kept telling me to lie on my side and I couldn't even be bothered to answe after the first few times bcs THAT DIDN'T HELP EITHER and I'd assume the position that felt less excruciating at any given time which isn't saying much, and then I needed to pee and I wasn't allowed up so I accepted the bedpan and peed and peed and peed and it felt wonderful, and then I remembered I'd also been desperate to go to the bathroom while in the OR and they'd told me they'd express my bladder after I was under and I assumed they hadn't but nurse said they had and would you believe I lay there and wondered where on earth I was finding the fluid to make all that urine and later when I told E. abt it he looked at me like I was mad (the look he reserves for when he has to go hunt for my keys, or my glasses or etc bcs I can never find or remember anything and he always does) and said They have been relacing your IV bags for hours now, you've had so many! and true, I had an IV drip (which has given me a fine, big hematoma), and I waited and waited for E. and my parents and one of the husbands even went out into the halway to see if they were anywhere to be seen (they all felt awful I think, the nurse had walked up to me and cheerily asked Normal birth or C-section? and I'd answered Abnormal miscarriage, normal D&C, and they all looked away but seriously, the babies, all those new lives were comforting, and besides, I'd been thinking E. and I had got into this quite ambivalently, I mean, being a parent is the scariest thing, and this had turned us into 2 people who knew w absolute certainty that this is what they wanted, regardless, and for that how could I not be grateful), so finally one of the husbands lent me his mobile and I rang E. and he said he’d made everyone stay away on purpose so I could rest and I told him I felt wonderful and was bored and please come, and then they all came, taking turns, and E. kept remarking that my heart rate and respiratory frequency were normal, did I hear that, they were normal, look how normal!, and I was told I’d be released later that evening, and then the nurse told me patients usually went home after abt 2-4 hours in the recovery room but my family had felt that that was too soon and I said WHAT?!, and luckily for me and sadly for him Dr. Jorge was walking past the open door and I called him and asked him to please not be swayed by my incredibly catastrophe-fearing parents and he said You’re doing fine, I’d let you go home now, it’s the anaesthesiologist that needs convincing, an by then it was 8 pm already and the story was, usually the anaesth. wants to wait 2 h, TWO HOURS, but my parents had apparently talked to her and since they were still afraid I’d exsanguinate, and bcs they couldn’t forget how I’d been a mere hours bfr they couldn’t believe I’d be in any shape to go home so soon after all that, EH. Then I sent everyone home to rest bcs it was ridiculous, E. had a test the next day and my parebts looked absolutely knackered and I’d be released in a few hours anyway and would give them a ring so they could come get me, and after a batlle of wills they all went home and eventually I was moved to a new room, given food, pestered the nurses to call the Anaesth. every so often in the hopes that’d make them want to get rid of me faster, and finally one came and pronounced me fine and I dove for the phone and asked my parents to please fly back to the hospital, and then I got dressed and felt no pain whatsoever, or nausea, and I walked up and down the corridor bcs I couldn’t wait to be out of there, an the nurse who’d sniffed and disaproved smiled at me politely and then did a double turn and said It’s you, I cannot believe it, you don’t look like the same person at all! and I laughed and that didn’t hurt me either, and then my parents came, and we drove to the chemist’s for the antibiotics, the 2 sorts of pain killers and the pill that is to help shrink my uterus and get it back into shape, and then I was home, in my home, on my sofa, with E. and my pets, and I was giddy with lack of pain and I couldn’t do anything but revel in it, absolutely nothing hurt except for the IV drip vein but that hardly counts [actually counts a bit, can be unbelievably painful], and then I slept and woke up at 3 am or so and tried to write a post but couldn’t bcs was still high from lack of pain and exhaustion, and then I slept some more and yesterday when I woke up I felt exhausted still and could barely move w tiredness, and I tried writing that post and answering emails but I couldn’t so I watched Bend it like Beckham, Nanny McPhee and House M.D. and started re-reading David Nobbs’ Pratt of the Argus, and then I fell asleep at 10 pm and woke up at 4 am and then went back to sleep and 5.30 am or so, and woke up abt an hour ago and decided I needed to write this for me, so apologies for length and detail, I dare say not many made it this far.

I want to talk more abt everyone who helped me so much but that will be for another day, I’ve written enough as it is (I wish I knew how to do the Continue reading link but I don’t). I am in no pain physically [UPDATE: am now a bit, sharp pain on right side that comes and goes, still manageable, I suppose it's to be expected], ibuprufen w every meal and paracetamol every 8h. I feel my uterus and my right ovary region at times but it’s mostly harmless. I'm barely bleeding. I’m still pale and tired but everyone pronounces me positively rosey in comparison, so that’s fine. I have come to terms w the fact that this pregnancy was not viable. Don’t know if this is the total amount of digesting I’ll do but I’ve learnt that in life a) shit happens and b) pain is unavoidable, suffering is optional. The first beta at 6w4d was 1654, remember? At 6w6d it was 535. Poor thing never really stood a chance. I was watching E. sleeping tonight, and early this morning (still wake up a few times during the night), and was thinking how bizarre to have been pregnant at my birthday and to not even know it. This has made me realise how much I do want children. I’ll be all right.

HAG SAMEACH.

UPDATE: E. has just rang me, he'd gone out with my father to buy me this very car in Panther Black today (remember it was supposed to be for my birthday) and got a phone call, HE GOT THE JOB, he got the job he wanted, and it's well paid as well! It may not seem quite like it but our life is most definitely changing for the better.

Lioness

Hi,

Lioness had an small operation to extract the embryo. She's fine and will arrive soon at our home. She will post all the details when she feels better. Thanks for your comments and support.

Shalom
E.

"And sings the tune - without the words, and never stops at all"

I have hope. This is what it boils down to. The beta has spoken, the dr. has spoken, the blood I am still losing and my almost pain-free, visibly smaller boobs speak to me daily, and yet, I have hope.

Hope and I, we know each other well. I always seem to be able to cling to it long after all the facts say otherwise, yes? I always seem to ride it wildly in the face of death.

I told my mum, actually right after I wrote my last post. She rang me and all of a sudden waiting for that 2nd beta didn’t seem to make much sense. I know. They are worried and mostly want to make it all better. Ha. Wish someone could.

I cannot talk to E. abt this, not quite. Well I can, as long as I don’t say death, dead or dying. He is waiting for the 2nd beta tomorrow to allow himself to believe the unavoidable. He hopes, as well, against all odds.

There is a not so wide gap between an embryo and a baby. In my mind, I have crossed it. Maybe it’s not quite a baby I am losing, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t planned, it was very much wanted, in abstract, and now in concrete. I did it all backwards, first thinking I’d miscarried, then the u/s showing it might still be alive, then realising with the beta that it is dying. It didn’t help. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how or where you started, it doesn’t matter how you got there, it doesn’t much matter what lay in between. I still want it to live. It is still mine, it has become mine despite its impossibility.

I am losing the potential of this baby, and it hurts like the bloody hell.

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Some of you have asked abt the beta and how I am, physically. Blood should be drawn tomorrow at around 2.30 pm, and the results are ready within 30-60 min, so I should be posting them btwn 4-5 pm my time [when it's midnight here it's 4 pm in Berkeley]. I will wait for the dr. to come give me the values, in the little Enya-infested waiting room. Physically, I am in no pain, no cramping anymore, just a vague and rather alien feeling of pressure, of stretching, weight, in my uterus from he ovaries to the pubic bone, on the sides. It is so uncomfortable in a painless way it bothers me when I speak in a more enthusiastic tone or for longer periods of time, like I'm pulling something. Nothing can be growing in me right now so I can't very well think it's round ligament pain. Oh, my lower back does hurt all the time. I am still bleeding a bit every day, not much, and the blood is rather bright but no clots. I am surprisingly weak and tire very easily, especially when I stand for a while. My belly still looks the same - it was beginning to depress me, the fact that I seemed to all of a sudden be gaining weight on my belly, and I couldn't think of a reason bcs I wasn't eating all that much more. E. would sometimes remark I looked pregnant - but then he says it often, it's wishful thinking on his part. I am often thirsty (a very rare thing for me) and drink loads of fluids these days. I'd fall asleep easily at night bcs I get so tired from doing basically nothing and then become slightly feverish and sweat a bit around my neck and chest, the same odor-free sweat I produce when I am normally ill and feverish (haven't had a fever in 3 days). I wake up often during the night, often after only a few hours, and then it takes me forever to fall asleep again. I am also constipated. And now I must drink some more tea again.

Ps - Couldn't be bothered with the exam, didn't even go.
PPS - Woke up at 2 am cramping, still at it. Also, sharp piercing small pain in right ovary area. Who wants to place bets it's only gas? I know what will inevitably happen but I almost considered going to the ER just to have confirmation that it's started. But no bleeding. I NEED YOUR HELP HERE, if anyone knows: how long after you'd started feeling this way did you miscarry?

The Pride Proudly Presents The Abysmal Beta

Now we know we have The Little Embryo That Would Never Have Been Able To.

6w4d post conception date: 1654.0

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking ab, the value should be btwn 15.000-200.000. See the humungous difference? Small matter of a decimal, or two.

I did go to the private hospital bcs, even though I do live in Europe's armpit [and Kath has just decided she lives in its nasal passage, Kath Kath Kath, why am I not surprised that you are hilarious], it was my fault. See, I used the old card. The dead one - no pun intended. *Self-kick* I am feeling very guilty bcs I lied to the dr so I'd get an u/s and a beta, I did. I set the dates back 3 days and told him I had been running a high fever the night bfr and had passed a clot again but surprise, my cervix? Firmly closed, thank you. This Little Embryo That Can't doesn't seem willing to give up just yet. We also couldn't see it so well, whereas yesterday we could. Now, maybe that's the machine, the dr. did say the ecograph was just for emergencies - whom do we have to sleep with to get a good u/s is what I'd like to know - and its resolution wasn't the best but I doubt it. What do I mean I doubt it, the beta has spoken, the end. Or on its way there.

Also, our waiting room was the passage to the new babies ward, and my infertility blogs propensity has taught me that that cannot but be an absolute mind fuck for women who didn't know there was a problem until something starts going wrong, who have been trying, who have maybe been going through hell to get a positive test. As you can see, my lovelies, I am fully educated. No pictures of babies, I'm happy to report, just tasteful flowers. Oh, and bloody shmaltzy Enya - on repeat, I was ready to start banging my head against the wall to drown it out. How is that soothing?? And not one trashy magazine to be seen.

[The ashamed bit has more to do w exposure in general than the miscarriage itself. I have always feared exposing myself and blogging has taken care of most of those irrational fears. No one has been less than kind when I reveal things I find profoundly shameful. This comes to mind. In a way it's been just a matter of extending what I'd learnt abt psoriasis to all the rest of my life, carrying your fucked up genetic code for all to see either breaks you or teaches you it is not something you have to feel guilty abt all the time, often both. In one highly particular way a miscarriage is easier to handle, people don't literally step back afraid you'll infect them w he same vileness, less potential for feeling like the village leper and wondering when the natives will start offering little bells for you to ring at crossroads. ]

The funny thing abt this is, I know, I KNOW that so many of you are feeling worse than I am right now, and I feel like a bit of a fraud bcs I am not feeling much really, and I am more pissed off at failing the exam tomorrow (that is an absolute certainty) than anything else right now, and I am sorry if I've caused you pain in any way - bcs I seem to be able to get pregnant, and it was oopsy of sorts and I know how hard for many of you that was, or bcs I've reminded you of your losses. I am all right, I really am (will tell parents after 2nd beta on Tuesday, might as well be able to tell them w absolute certainty so there's no room for their hope). I don't know if I'll remain this kind of all right till the end, or if it'll eventually sink in much further but for now, the closest I came to crying was when I saw the beta levels, and even that was more bcs of the embryo than bcs of me, poor thing, nowhere to go but down and still hanging on by the skin of its neural tube. Even our non-viable offspring are stubborn.

Fag, anyone?

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UPDATE: Oro has done it, Oro has made me cry with her kindness. Fuck. So maybe this miscarrying thing is harder than I thought it was going to be. Maybe I shouldn't be suprised but I am. I am beginning to think I may be the only one surprised, maybe it doesn't matter so much whether you were trying, maybe a loss is a loss is a loss.

And Then There Were None

This post and the info within may surprise all but the Barren Bitches Brigade, except for the small fact that I am the one writing it. It certainly is not for the faint of heart. Blood and Clots of an unpleasantly suspicious nature will be mentioned, often in the same sentence. Fuck and its derivatives will figure prominently. Etc.

Also, in honour of my conversation with David, which was an eye-opener [he rang me – he rang me, how sweet is that?? - from Israel bcs of this. Well actually not, that started out as the greatest motivator but then the rubbish behind this very post happened and then he rang.] – anyway, if you are a religious Jew, I will be immodest.

TUESDAY, CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT
Awaited period arrives in all its glory as I stand outside a Catholic Church, during a wake. Never one to miss potential symbolism, I promptly decided it would be quite like the Pope [especially this one, have you taken a good look at his face? The Huns, The Huns, RUN LITTLE ONES, RUN TO THE FOREST AND DON’T LOOK BACK] to somehow arrange for occult sects to invoke something or other or pull a lever or other and have me exsanguinate to death right there on the steps. I say my goodbyes as I feel the blood literally gushing out of me, and then a solid gushy feeling, as if a a murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens a band of clots had fused together and slithered all the way down my wapooha. When I got home I had blood halfway up my crotch, and the solid feeling had been caused by a clot colony that was humungous and could easily fit inside my palm (what I usually call the size of a small African nation but a bit too big this time). I also had blood trails all the way down into my socks. I took 2 Ibuprufens and went to bed, and

WEDNESDAY
I was supposed to go meet my friend Shrimpy so we could work together, and I didn’t manage to leave till 3 pm or something bcs I bled through 2 pairs of pants and the bathroom, good grief the bathroom looked like a CSI scene, there were even droplets on the mirror, the let’s-perch-on-the-bidet manoeuvre seemed to have been a bit too much and the blood felt too liquidy. Those of you fortunate enough to have bidets (don’t see how the rest of the world can live, truly I don’t), do you know when you’re washing yourself and the cold water eventually stops you from bleeding for a little while, so you can quite easily get your knickers and the new pad? I soaked in cold water for 15 minutes and kept on bleeding, and this is when I first thought something wasn’t right. When I got to her place I felt that solid gushy feeling again only more so, so I rushed to the bathroom and the clots/clots/clot colony was so big I felt it could be something else, so I called her in and she took a look at it – she’s a dr. – and said: “Hmm yes, looks like you’re miscarrying.” “It does a bit, doesn’t it,” I replied. There was even a membrane surrounding it, oh well. I was still a bit incredulous bcs this is me, and everyone knows my ovaries don’t work, and the dr. keeps reminding me I will very probably need assistance to get pg, so I was dreading a tumour or myoma far more.

THURSDAY
I’d managed to make an appointment yesterday so went in to see Dr. She too thought cyst and myoma, especially after feeling my uterus. As an afterthought she said, Just to be absolutely safe buy a pregnancy test and I said All right and left thinking what havoc a myoma could wreak and would I have a womb/tubes/ovaries at the end of it all. So I drove to the chemist’s and had this conversation with the woman who spent at least 4 years in the university bfr being able to have it:

She: But are you more than a few days late? Bcs this test doesn’t read “early late” so well.
Me: It’s all right, it won’t make a difference.
S: Well it will, it won’t pick up the HCG (Human Chorionic Gonadotropin) if it’s only a day or two late.
M: It really doesn’t matter, I don’t need to find out whether I am pg, only whether I was, see?
S: ?? But how does that work?
M: Could I just have the test please? I simply need to find out whether I’m miscarrying, thank you.

She was unconvinced but did fetch the test. And the test, ah the test showed 2 pink lines immediately, lightning fast. My first, isn't that a moment to remember, and I, I unhinged my jaw and made it terribly hard for myself to give the good Dr. the news, and she, she unhinged her jaw and stammered Well, this changes everything, forget abt all the ultrasounds and regular checkups I ordered, come see me on Sat at the hospital, we’ll see if you’ll a need a D&C – and this is where I entered a parallel universe where I actually am treated as someone who conceives something other than notions. I was shocked as the bloody hell bcs fuck, I do not do pregnant, at all. And I had, obviously. Only too late now, gone. Or going, at the very least. And you know what the truth is? The truth is that, amidst the shock, part of me was just relieved and grateful bcs I’d smoked a lot the previous months, and taken a fair amount of anti-inflammatory for my ears, and my folic acid reserve must be non-existent bcs I was on the pill all those years to give my ovaries the chance to rest and reabsorb the cysts that lived in/on them – and sod it if it didn’t work! – and I kept forgetting to take it and we all know what happens to folicacidless embryos, and I felt like I’d barely avoided giving birth to the new Miles Vorkosigan, with the distinct disadvantage that this child would not be protected by being a Vor, and we’re a few centuries behind so no synthetic legs etc, and the meds, have I mentioned the medication and the smoking and the stress and the late nights working? So yes, relief. E. was somewhat happy, strangely enough. He told me At least we know we can make babies. I didn’t have the heart to detail the fact that getting pregnant and staying pregnant are two very different things, who knows. Immediately the horrid humour began, with my telling him it was his turn to clean the litterbox bcs I was too busy miscarrying, or that he should save me the last cookie bcs I was eating for one and a half. WELL, I think they are! [A while ago E. said something beastly and I said something nasty in return and then went out again to go exchange 2 books bcs if there was time when I needed books, this is it. I am now back and E. and I are not talking to each other right now. As a matter of fact I have not seen him since I came back.]

I went to Shrimpy’s to work but at around 10 pm or something my lower back was killing me and I was feeling very tired so I came back home. I had barely bled all day, and there were no clots anywhere – not the pad, not my legs, not my socks as sometimes happens. Good. BY the time I got home I was shaking w cold and tiredness and was a bit feverish. I took one Ibuprofen and fell asleep easily and early, and woke up at 3.30 am and couldn’t fall back to sleep again so got up and emailed a few women asking if there was anything natural I could take to ensure all would come out and I would not need to have a scientific-looking sort of spoon up my cooter, forcibly into my womb to then literally scrape it raw – and I am not too sure we are given general anaesthesia for it here, and btw, I do not not not want a GA, they make me want to die and I cannot even puke and it takes me at least 6 h to be able to even lift my head and speak. Sadly, and as expected, mostly you need to cross your fingers and leave your cervix wide open, if you personally can manage that little trick. I also emailed Persephone and David bcs I wanted to know if there was a special prayer to be said when miscarrying and well, in Judaism we’re not even supposed to truly mourn that which quite wasn’t, and the modesty bit got me thinking a lot [and basically maybe I should have emailed David’s wife Zahava but I’ve never even talked to her so I couldn’t very well address her directly plus I didn’t think asking it would be considered inapropriate by religious Jews, so sorry David - he was nothing but sweet and great and Treppy-like, as expected, this guilt is all my own bcs I should have known better] and hell, it’s just another bloody mess I choose to ignore right now.

FRIDAY
In the morning I realised I’d bled again but not as much and still no clots to be seen, so that reinforced my notion that this was the last stage of this miscarriage. In a way I felt also lucky. See, I never found out I was pg, I found out I’d been, no hope to cling onto, no fear to cling onto for the added 8 months, just a Never Would Have Been presented to me as painlessly as possible. I am not making loads of money while in vet school and E., who is an archaeologist, has been looking for work for a while now, has even branched off from his area of expertise – and nothing. It is my firm belief that you cannot simply want your children, you must prepare for them, economically more so than emotionally (I’ll never be prepared emotionally). I believe the parents must be the ultimate providers, as much as the family might be delighted help theirs is not the ultimate responsibility, and no one should embark upon parenthood bfr they’ve amassed at least a fair amount of money (read also: ensured they can put enough away every month), in case things go awry for some reason during the pregnancy or the first year. So, on our own we have my money and his savings – thank God he is the organised type! – but this was definitely not the time to get pregnant. I cannot imagine being pregnant and fretting over money – along with fucking vet school, that’d be enough to kill an embryo – and well no worries, I’ve done that already.

Also, I felt lucky that this was such an early loss bcs see above, attachement, what attachment?, Wham Bam ByeBye Mam, those last clots had membranes, and the heavy bleeding was gone, if you’re going to have to lose a baby you might as well do it as swiftly as this. I know, with absolute certainty, that this pregnancy cannot be older than the 25th of February due to E.'s minor surgery recovery. I don’t know if it’s a 7-day week or an 8-day week but yes, Feb 25th is the earliest it could be.*

[Make no mistake here, this is what’s been solidifying within me, it doesn’t matter that we didn’t know early enough, that it is too early, that it wasn’t viable, it doesn’t matter that there is more shock and surprise than sadness, this could have been our baby, this gave wings to our diffuse idea of what having a baby is or could be like – and we lost a baby indeed, bcs otherwise it would be born and we would have it, as we want to. May be a minor loss but a loss it is.]

Friday was a shitty day, with fever in the afternoon and evening and general feelings of shittiness and vague pain even after 2 Ibuprofens, and I slept restlessly again.

SATURDAY
We went to the hospital at 10.30 am w a friend of E.’s and then I waited and waited and waited, and then dr. came and wanted to do an US but couldn’t bcs THE ONE MACHINE THAT EXISTS FOR ALL PREGGOS AND MISCARRIGOS IN THE WHOLE HOSPITAL WHICH SEES A TONNE OF WOMEN A DAY WAS IN USE. So I waited and waited and waited and then the US machine was returned to us and I was called in and she gelled my belly and I was so sure my uterus was void I said It’s empty, right? and she said Er, no, it isn’t, and I thought Fuck!, I thought it in English as I often do, and I lay there and wondered how it would be with the D&C and how soon I’d be allowed to go home, would it be early or late afternoon or would my having eaten be a problem and such was my fervour I almost didn’t hear it when she said, In fact, I’m wondering whether it could still be alive and I said WHHH??? and she turned the screen towards me and there was an embryo inside me, INSIDE ME, this is mad, this is demented. This is what pelvic and vaginal probing have taught us:

- Elongated gestational sac (bad sign)
- Heavy bleeding and clotting of course, and then some more bleeding, albeit less due to:
- Partially detached placenta, quite visible, as well as underlying hemorrhagic area
- Decreased mammary tension (boobs hurt far less than 2 days ago and seem smaller as well)
- Vitelline sac (nourishes embryo, is a sing of embryo vitality)
- Embryo measures right on target, of sorts, at 6W3D [*unless it's prior to Jan, 30, which would mean those 6W3D measurements are scary as hell and this is a very well-preserved dead embryo, which Dr thinks is not the case but at this point what do we know]
- She tought she saw a heart beat. Oh no, wait, Oh there, look, did you see that, it looked like… Oh no it wasn’t, oh maybe I’m seeing what I want to see, we’ll have to wait a fortnight for a clearer picture, come see me again on the 17th. TWO WEEKS FROM NOW.

I lost a tiny bit of my sanity when I saw that embryo INSIDE ME, the bit that is in charge of asking What part of the uterus did you say it was implanted in? and I’d like to have a beta now and one again in 2 days and so on so we know if it’s going up, which it won’t, or down, which seems natural, or staying put, which also seems natural, instead of waiting 2 weeks to find out what we already know, so if we know it now we might as well be sure of it sooner than later, yes?, and I was actually thinking too bad I cannot blog abt this bcs bloody hell, did I name my blog aptly and then I realised I could blog abt this, and then I realised I needed to blog abt it bcs I need you, much as I did when Uzi was missing and then dead, and I don't want to act like miscarrying is something I should be ashamed of, ever, though it is ugly and lonely and morose, and anyway tiny bits of sanity are all I’m prepared to lose this time, so this is my truth as we know it.

We went to my private insurance hospital later which is as crème de la crème as they come, and there I was told the communicating entity that lives in the printer was spewing the words Client To Be Refused A Doctor At This Time, and the lady at admissions couldn’t tell me why and suggested I should have come bfr 2 pm and I snarled I’ll try to time my miscarriage better next time, how does that sound you bitch?, only the bitch part isn't true though it happened in my mind, this is how it is goes: you can ring their number Mon–Sat till 2 pm, after that time you’re on your own but you’re welcome to pay 123 Euros for the appointment alone, not to mention all the blood testing and US etc, even though the reason you got the medical insurance in the first place was – ARGH! I’ll ring them on Mon and if need be Shrimpy will order me a beta which I’ll pay for out of my own pocket if need be as well. I will know what I can know as soon as I can know it. (This is also why I don’t want to tell my parents anything till we know for sure what’s happening, no need to place them in pseudo-grandparental agony. Do you think it’s wrong? I have learnt in an amazingly short amount of time the difference btwn knowing the pregnancy is gone and experiencing the pregnancy as it withers and dies. In degree of lacerations I'd much rather they merely experience the former.)

Want to hear the funny, the truly hysterical in all senses, bit? Theres's some small piece of my soul that is still feeling tender and bruised and dislocated: after the US I went back to the Admissions counter so I could pay. The nice man said Oh no, you don’t have to pay anything. And I said But this is a hospital, I’ve never heard of such a thing, there were some exams involved, are you quite sure? I always have to pay! And he shook his head and said No no no, pregnant women don’t pay –

- and fuckfuckfuck, this isn’t me, this cannot be me, this is all wrong ARGH!!! And I badly need a fag and yet I am not smoking – and really, WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?

And so we wait.

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COMMENTING RULES – please pay attention, I mean every single one of them:

1) If you know me in real life, please keep this to yourself. If I want anyone else to know I will tell them. It is and remains my choice. Also, it is not necessarily a good idea to talk to me abt this. Writing and talking are not and will never be the same.
2) Think twice bfr bringing God into this if it’s going to take the form of This is God’s will unless you are a) mentally ill and b) God himself. Other than that, you cannot possibly know what God wants or is, and therefore kindly refrain from inflicting inanity upon me.
3) Along the same lines, sentences like This is all for the best are best written somewhere else. Again, unless you’re mentally ill, God or a psychic refrain from bizarre quasi-retrospectively futurology.
4) I would truly appreciate your opinion, an honest one, be it good or bad. As I’ve had the chance to repeat ad lib last year, to me not knowing is far worse than any catastrophic scenario you may provide me with. Had I had the imagination to imagine today’s scenario, I’d have been much better prepared, and I might even have had my beta. I repeat, DO NOT FEEL AFRAID TO WRITE ABT BAD EXPERIENCES YOU'VE HAD OR HEARD ABT. They will help me know what to expect in all its different ways, I promise. [Also, I don't mind mentions of all things baby or pregnant - if you are pregnant and happily so, GOOD. That's exactly as it should be].
5) That being said, please DO NOT write anything along the lines of: I am sure…, or I just know that..., or anything that means you have access to information you cannot possibly have – we’ve discussed this above
6) Don’t say anything imbecilic. Don’t tell me to relax – it never changed my psoriasis, don’t think it will magically transform that which is shrinking as we speak into The Little Embryo That Could; don’t tell me we’re young; don’t tell me we can try again; you get the gist of it.
7) Morbid, dark, inappropriate humour welcome (Soper? Anyone?). Really.
8) E and I are talking to each other again. Neck-nuzzling known to occur.