Well I went to see the fabulous Dr C. who I am totally in love with. She is funny and not at all patronizing and makes me feel like yes, this is shit. No doubt about it, she is fantastic.
Just to catch you up to speed. So, the dot died and I was sooo sad and low and felt like I was the biggest failure to walk the earth. you know I even had a little case of the karmic heebie jeebies (cue big God-voice): "What is the significance of this miscarriage happening when these two people get MARRIED in the sight of God". It didn't last, thank God.
But, I wanted to make sure I did everything right. I knew the baby was dead, but noone told me what was going to happen next. When the bleeding started I thought that was the miscarriage. I had no idea. That's how uniformed I was. I thought two weeks of bleeding was a miscarriage. Its a bit like the person who, in all seriousness, once told me they didn't know babies could be born at night. And this person is in her fifties.
So, I go back to the doctor's when I realize the bleeding is getting worse and clots are coming out. Clots are really, really gross. And, of course, you think that is the miscarriage. Nope.
So, I am back at the doctor's office. Not with Dr C (who we have already established I love), nor with the doctor who told us the news about dot (who I am more meh about). This time I am with an emergency doctor who is seeing me on her lunch break. Thank God its another one I love. We do the hushed theater-routine (just me and her this time) and there is the baby (she hides the monitor from me, for which I am very grateful because at this point (a week ago today) I am still crying a lot and very attached to the dot.
She tells me: "The fetus is now five weeks and your cervix is closed. We can do the D&C and get it all out, but it will hurt." Part of me (the part with my mum's voice) is telling me to just do it and get the hell over with it. So, I agree. I'm there, in the stirrups and of course I see the needles and then the other part of me (the part which is scared of needles) starts to go woah a minute.... So I call off the surgery and take the other option which she proposes.
The other option is the do-it-yourself option. Misoprostol. You go and get four white pills that you insert into the vagina and that induces the miscarriage.
I wait for two days just in case my cervix decides to open and, when it doesn't, I do the Misoprostol.
I lie in the bed and insert the pills. All the while I am looking around the room. It feels weird to put pills that kind of look like tylenol inside yourself. I have never done anything like this before. So I place them in and lie back. I start to wonder: "did they go in far enough? Are they going to work fast? Will Z get home from work in time?" Of course, me being me, this period of contemplation lasts about 20 minutes. I am lying in the bed. I am, my husband will testify to this, the world's most impatient person, nothing is happening. I am actually annoyed about this.
Anyway, by about 7pm (I put the pills in around 4pm) the pills start to kick in. I start to get weird cramps. It is a bit like period pain but only in the front part - the uterus - there isn't the stomach pain or the hot and cold or the need to poop. I normally call this "washing machine stomach". Even though the contra-indications indicate otherwise, I am being contrary to the contra-indications.
After a couple of hours of the cramps and some moaning and groaning and taking one of the strong painkillers doctor number 3 has given me I need to go to the bathroom. Something slimy passes. Then I stop being okay. I start to cry. Dot is being flushed away. And again, she is gone in two flushes. I am sad.
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