I hope no one eats me alive for this post. It could get controversial if someone really chooses to stir the pot. I urge you NOT to stir it. Leave the stinking pot alone. Just hear my heart, and only that.
With the news of our ultrasound on Thursday, we decided to continue on with life the next day, and begin the ugly medication process on Saturday, when Brady was home and I wasn’t alone with all of the kids. I have done this once before at home, with Theo, so I knew what to expect. I took medication first thing in the morning and waited. Within the hour, I was nauseous and feverish, shaking and miserable. There is nothing glamorous about it. I hid out upstairs for most of the morning, shivering and being sad. I started bleeding, but nothing crazy at all. Brady ran me a bath so I could warm up and relax my crampy body. At about the six hour mark, everything had slowly down significantly, so I took the approved second dose. It didn’t really do anything. I maybe cramped a little more, but not much. Bleeding was still slowing, and “unproductive,” to use a word that is maybe less graphic. The only thing the second dose accomplished was making me sick all over again, which is did well. I was so miserable that day, and SO annoyed that, by the end of the day, nothing had been accomplished.
I waited Sunday out, or rather Sunday waited me out. I completely stopped bleeding. I had no cramps. It was just sooooo nothing.
I called Dr. Guselle’s office on Monday and asked if there was any way I could be approved for another dose of this medication. I wanted this done with. I wanted to work through the portion of my grief that was actually having the baby. I wanted to be able to move forward and actually be able to leave my house. She approved a third and final dose, and asked me to call in a day or two if nothing happens.
And nothing happened. It didn’t even try to happen. I got the chills, but I didn’t cramp at all. I didn’t spot at all. I didn’t progress at all. I just waited. I felt completely neutral all the time. Gutless. In limbo. I haaaaated it. I finally admitted defeat on Thursday, and called to say nothing had happened. I was asked to book an ultrasound, to see what was going on in there. I decided to put it off until Monday, so I’d have all weekend to give my body that last chance to do its job and release my baby. But it didn’t.
I called on Friday and booked an ultrasound for Monday without too much fuss. I once worked at a doctors office, and people would call for an appointment and insist on telling you their whole history. It was fine, but it was totally unnecessary. It seems at this clinic, I cannot get an ultrasound without giving them ALL the information and proving that I need one. Its just dumb, but they did give me one when I told them I had lost a baby and it wasn’t coming out. Saying that on the phone just choked me up. I didn’t want to. But I had no choice.