Saturday, February 19, 2005
My mother told me to start writing. It was a blur in the conversation, only to resurface after the trauma my body had been through for days. It went from pain to numbness, almost as if in complete denial that this could occur again so soon. Between my hormones and bleeding, the excuses I told myself to keep motivated were working, but not for long.
Thursday, like any other day, was full of “have to do’s”. Wake up, jump out of bed, get dressed, check e-mail, phone messages and make someone else rich for the day. Book events for Stevens, go to the hotel and straighten out accounting issues. Back and forth I went, all the while thinking of not thinking about the hidden stresses of the past. There it was, buried in disbelief, but revived every once in a while by a bill, comment from a creditor, or mention of disappointment from my biggest fear, my parents. I keep pushing it further away, hoping it will just disappear, the resentment, fade away with time. How could that business fail? How did I make everyone else so wealthy and happy? What happened to the easy life? Am I supposed to be this stressed out? Was this real? Oh, time to tuck it away again.
I told Brian there’s no time for the doctor. I have too much to do. Catering, time restraints, clients, it’s just not possible. My body was separating itself from my feelings and starting its own agenda. I wonder what it would say if it could speak as a whole without me. “What are you doing?” It would ask. “Do you think this is normal?” “We are overcompensating for the loss and you’re not helping us out!” And just like the hidden fear we’ll call Bad Bob, I tucked the voice away.
Friday was hectic. Deadlines for the catering were met, and the event went extremely well. I was in extreme pain, masking it with “I’m sure it will be okay, I’ll have to rest later.” I know now I ignored the reality of another miscarriage. I knew it was another one, didn’t I? The day got longer, getting home at 6:30pm, after being on my feet and lifting and moving items about all the while. The girls came over and I ignored it some more.
Today was a reality check. Okay, maybe it’s time to deal with it. Or maybe someone else has to see you in person to tell you to deal with it. That’s Tiffany. So I guess I don’t look well? “No, call the doctor” is her answer to my many questions. She is the definition of a great friend.
Dr. Kaplan listens to my story. I'm 31, been off birth control for a very long time, we’re trying to get pregnant, and I had surgery on my tubes in August after terrible periods forever. We can finally get pregnant and have a horrible miscarriage two months ago. The same story, I was bleeding and put on Provera. The emotional roller coaster is like a very bad dream. I had night terrors that had to be real. There’s no way these thoughts could exist in my mind! Why did I cry for no apparent reason and then want to laugh? I tell him about the level of extreme bleeding, many, many clots, groin aches and other pains and pangs that don’t seem normal. Why couldn’t I just have morning sickness instead? I’d rather have childbirth than to experience these tortures again so soon.
He calls in the order for the pills. Driving to Eckerds is slow and forever. Mom is trying to console me over the phone, sending stress free tips that later would be some sort of therapy in the mental healing process. Okay, finally home, bleeding to death it seems, Tiffany brings me food and after looking up every reason there could be for my extreme bleeding and dizziness for days, she tells me it’s time. I’m so emotional right now. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. Oh, that’s because I’m sick.
Dr. Kaplan says go to the hospital. You could be hemorrhaging, but not sure what this is without blood tests. He’s doubtful there would be this much blood for three days if it was an early miscarriage. It could be a hormonal imbalance or something more complicated. But I’m sure of my symptoms from last week. I know my body.
They came and picked up the dog, always to the rescue. How do you say thank you that many times in a lifetime and it still work? I want a new phrase with more power for my parents. They deserve a sentence. My husband deserves a paragraph for his understanding of my crazy emotions. An alien has taken control of my whole being.
I’m home now after the hospital visit. Bloodwork and all of the usual tests were run. My blood pressure was higher than normal, but slowly dropped with my bleeding decrease. The medicine was working, which meant it was more than likely another miscarriage. The HCG levels would prove the obvious tomorrow. My groin aches; I have some anxiety and back pain, but feel better. I’m awaiting 4 am to take another pill. What happens next? Do I live in fear of getting pregnant? And what happens to the hidden stresses? Do they ever go away? They are tucked again into the dark as I wait for my husband to come home from work.
It’s on paper. My mother told me to get it down. Now I’m going to move on. Right?