So I haven’t updated my blog in a really long time. I’ve had an interesting couple of months. First, I was fully intending to have about two weeks fully to myself at the end of the summer as my term ended at the university,. I had big plans for that time. I was going to start writing my novel (again) and have a good time having some time to myself. Instead, my grandfather ended up in the hospital and then died. Awesome.
Ten minutes before the funeral, I received a phone call from the university offering me my choice of jobs that I interviewed for. I took the one I wanted and I am grateful for my job. I’ve just had my three month probationary interview and I think that I passed it. I love my job. It’s difficult and challenging and interesting and the days and hours go by quickly. It’s taken a really long time to become comfortable in my job so that’s one of the reasons that I’ve been completely absent from the internet and all of the conversations. I have called anyone or read anyone’s blog or been involved in anything other than my own life in a really long time. Now that I’m comfortable in my job, I fully intended to start blogging again and beefing up mu “interweb presense” as it were. However….
Last Friday, I took a pregancy test in the morning because I was five days late for my period. Two pink line. After I got home from work, I took another pregnancy test (just to be really sure) and there was a crossed line. I was pregant. As you will notice from my use of the past tense, I am no longer pregnant.
Apparently, 50% percent of all conceptions end in miscarriage. That, to me, seems extraordinarily high. Never did I think that I’d end up on the lame side of 50%. Well I did. Lame. As the days go by and the fact of the miscarriage sets end, I don’t seem to be feeling any less sad. It doesn’t matter that this happens to many people, it happened to me and I’m sad. I was barely pregnant but I was just getting to point that I was really excited about the baby and the pregnancy and then it was “expelled from my uterus” as the charming elderly doctor from the clinic phrased it.
No one tells you before you get pregnant that the first thing that you feel upon learning that you are pregnant is that you feel scared. The second thing that you feel is special. That’s right. You feel special. Things are happening to your body that are new and right and different. Your tits ache and your nipples change and you can smell everything. Your nails grow and you feel…special. As hippy-dippy that it sounds, you feel like no one else has felt this wonderful and you know that you are growing something inside of you and its wonderful.
Then I started to spot. Then bleed. Then I cried. I barely had enough time to feel excited about my pregnancy (five weeks) and then it was taken away from me. And I know that it is normal. Many women miscarry. I didn’t want to be one of them. And as much as you want to feel okay about everything and the baby, I was obsessed about losing the baby. Once I started to bleed, I thought that maybe I’d jinked the pregnancy with my bad thoughts and even though I know that I should feel this way, I feel like I am broken.
“Imcompetent uterus” it’s called. Isn’t that awesome. As far as the women’s movement has come, it still hasn’t helped medical terminology become less offensive or hurtful. The doctor at the clinic asked me if I was cramping and when I said yes, a bit, he told my that the cramping was my uterus “expelling the foetus”. Great.
So now my husband and I are sad but are going to try to get pregnant again. We’re disappointed that now we have to try to get pregnany instead of the happy accident that we has before.
I’d like to hear if anyone else has any miscarriage stories. For some reason, other women’s pain makes me feel less alone…
