We're in the process of moving, and in a large box I found an old notebook from school. While flipping through it, I found a couple of journal entries I made nearly 5 years ago. I'm going to copy them in their entirety. Current notes will be in brackets.
1/1/13
Saturday, December 29, 2012 was a life-changing day for me. I woke up to some light pink spotting, and figured that I would probably miscarry sometime that day or the next. At the very least, I was thankful for a sign that it was coming. I went about my day with a pad on. Derek and I went outside and built an awesome snowman. :-) At about 4pm, I was sitting at the computer when I felt a cramp, then felt myself start to bleed. I stood up to go to bathroom, and felt a massive gush of fluid. By the time I made it to the bathroom, I had soaked both my pad and my underwear. I sat on the toilet, and just gushed blood. The cramping was mild, but I was horrified at the amount of blood coming out of my body. I would stand up to check the contents of the toilet, hoping to find my baby there, and when I sat back down there was blood all over the floor. This process repeated itself a few times, until the toilet was full of blood so thick I couldn't distinguish what was clots and what could have been tissue. I called my OB but the office was closed, so I left a message for the on-0call doc to call me back and tell me what the hell to do. I called my mom and she tried to comfort me, but I was so scared and the cramps started coming with greater intensity. I sat on the toilet, monitoring both the loss of blood and the clots as well as I could. Suddenly, a very intense wave of nausea hut me and I vomited into the trash can. This scared the living hell out of me, as I NEVER threw up during the pregnancy. At this point, I felt like I was losing too much blood and the nausea was causing me to dry heave which made me bleed more. I was scared, Derek was scared, so even though the OB hadn't called me back we headed to Mercy. In the car, the cramps became powerful contractions. I threw up everything I had eaten during the day into a plastic bag in the car. [I should note that we ate some of the top layer of our wedding cake, which was pink, and it scared the hell out of everyone to see that vomit until I remembered what I had eaten.] I could only apologize to Derek for the smell and grossness of it all, and he told me not to apologize. It had been about an hour since the bleeding started, and I was in agony. I was convinced that I was hemorrhaging and dying. When we got to the ER, I spent most of my wait on the toilet, contracting hard and bleeding like crazy. They finally called us back. It was hard, from that point on, to have any concept of time. I was uncomfortable on the bed, and my contractions were getting longer, stronger, and closer together. I was still bleeding very heavily. I was aggravated because nobody had come in to check how much blood I had lost, and nobody seemed to care how much pain I was in or about the fact that I was regularly vomiting and dry heaving. I could barely breathe. Derek was wonderful--I kept my eyes closed most of time because of how much pain I was in, but he kept pulling up cute pictures of Daily to distract me. I can't imagine how helpless he must have felt, watching me writhe in pain and puke and bleed, and being unable to do anything about it. He answered questions on my behalf, held my hand, fetched nurses for me...he was an absolute price. The doctor finally came in and checked me, noting that my cervix was still closed. Given that I was bleeding so much and contracting so hard, this scared me even more.. I thought I might never pass the baby. Shortly after the doc left, the nurse came back ni with a shot of Dilaudid for my IV. Within minutes, I finally felt some relief. I had another massive contraction and a HUGE gush, and called the nurse in again. I think that might have been when I passed the baby, though I wouldn't know any facts until later and I honestly still don't know if that's when it happened. They cleaned me up (thank goodness--it was feeling like a wet, sticky war zone by that point) [Jesus Jennifer, do you have to be so descriptive all the time?], and let me know that they got in touch with my OB and that I would need to go to Good Sam for a D&C. They disconnected my IV and sent me with Derek to do the transfer. By that time, the Dilaudid had me fairly comfortable and the bleeding had slowed down. When we got to Good Sam, I was immediately brought to labor and delivery, into a special D&C recovery room. My nurse, Donna, was an absolute peach and one of the best medical professionals I've ever come across. She restarted my IV, answered a lot of my questions, engaged me in conversation, and even brought me an ice chip even though she wasn't supposed to. Dr. Wall was also amazing. He really explained the procedure to me and answered every question I had. He made me feel better about trying to get pregnant again, and I think Derek and I both felt a loot better after talking to him. When the CRNA came in, he basically gave me 3 options. Local anesthesia w/ twilight, epidural w/ twilight, and general anesthesia. I had planned on getting the general, but the CRNA was nervous about my airway because I had eaten that day. Who cares that I threw everything up?? Either way, I ended up calling my mom for advice and she recommended the general so I went with that. The procedure was over in a flash, and the next thing I knew I was back in the recovery room, looking at my wonderful husband. I wasn't in pain. It took me a while to get my bearings enough to eat, drink, and pee, but eventually we were able to leave. I think we got home around 1:30 am. While being wheeled out of the hospital, I became aware of exactly how empty I felt--no more baby, dead or alive.
The next few days, including today and who-knows how many more days, have been filled with sadness. It comes in waves. I think of how much pain I was in and how scared I was, how much blood there was and how fast everything happened...and I cry. I think about my baby-how much I loved it and wanted it, how sad I am that I won't ever get to hold it or give it a name...and I cry. I think about my dad, and how much I could have used his love and support through all of this...and I cry. I think about my incredible husband, how much I love him and how grateful I am that he was there through everything...and I cry.
So now, I suppose it's time to move on. The soil has been tilled, my body is healing, and I'm sure my heart will too eventually. My biggest goal for this year is to know everything I can about my reproductive health and to fix anything that needs fixing. Then, we will try again. I won't give p on my lifelong dream to become a mother, and I'm going to do everything I can to have a baby of my own. A little piece of Derek and myself, with dark brown hair, sparkly green eyes, rosy chubby cheeks, chubby thighs, and a vivacious and hilarious personality. There is nothing I want more.
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Transcribed from paper--12/29/12
We're in the process of moving, and in a large box I found an old notebook from school. While flipping through it, I found a couple of journal entries I made nearly 5 years ago. I'm going to copy them in their entirety. Current notes will be in brackets.
12-27-12
Sometimes I just need to let it all out. This has been the most wonderful and depressing year of my life, and I'm really hoping that next year will be better. I didn't realize that so much joy and sorry can be intertwined.
Planning our wedding was an extremely fun and stressful process. The stress was exasperated by my former "best friend", who made everything about her. After over 15 years of living in her shadow, my happiness and independence apparently proved to be too much for her. She completely ruined the experience of buying/shopping for y wedding dress, selfishly scheduled activities on the same days I had fun wedding stuff going on, alienated my other bridesmaids by being a rude and selfish bitch, and then made me pay for everything for my own bachelorette party. Then, when I called her out on it, she became defensive and refused to acknowledge my hurt over the situation. I decided that day, 9 days before the wedding, that I deserved better than to be treated like shit and cut her out of my life. It's been 3 months now since I've spoken to her, and I'm fairly sure she still feels no remorse. For once in our friendship, my life was going better than hers and she just couldn't handle it. I steadily lost weight while she gained with her 2nd pregnancy, my sex life was fantastic while hers fell flat, and I was planning a wedding she couldn't even dream of. For the first time ever, I felt like she was jealous of me--but the only way she could express it was to be a horrid bitch. She was absolutely the most miserable, apathetic, unsympathetic person I've ever come into contact with, and honestly I'm glad to be rid of her. Of course, her mother had no interest in hearing my side of the story, and instead cut me off altogether. I miss Erik and Lucy, and her dad...but I know I'm better off without her in my life. [There is so much more to this story, I don't even know where to start. I think I'll leave this alone--it accurately represents my anger at the time.]
Other than my wedding day, the happiest moment I had this year was a positive pregnancy test. For 4 weeks, I was lucky enough to have a little life growing inside of me...a little combination of Derek and myself that I'm sure would have brought us incredible joy. We went to our first OB appointment with so much hope in our hearts, so much excitement! My joy turned to sorry, though, when I saw our amazing baby had no heartbeat. It was so hard to see that perfect little nugget on the screen--so perfectly made--not moving. No blood flow. No fluttering heart. What was supposed to be a joyful experience turned into yet another heartbreak. The baby had stopp4ed growing at least a week before we found out we lost it, and I am still sitting here waiting for our baby to leave my body. The waiting has been horrible--feeling like I am still pregnant and knowing my baby is not alive is killing me. I still hope to pass it before my next appointment--I don't want a D&C. I want to see my baby and grieve it. I want to have that moment, even if it's by myself in the bathroom. I'm sure that I will be even more grateful when we get pregnant again and succeed in keeping it alive...it doesn't make it any less difficult, though. I'm not a religio8us person, nor do I believe in angels--but I desperately want to believe that my father is watching over my little one's perfect little soul. It's the only way I can cope with this loss, other than the support of my amazing husband. I am so, so very lucky to have him in my life. I have never loved another person the way I love Derek...he is everything to me and I can't picture my life without him. From spending hours texting me when mom was in the hospital, to holding me tighter than ever when dad died, to holding my pieces together when we lost our baby...he is the most incredible source of love and support I've ever known.
12-27-12
Sometimes I just need to let it all out. This has been the most wonderful and depressing year of my life, and I'm really hoping that next year will be better. I didn't realize that so much joy and sorry can be intertwined.
Planning our wedding was an extremely fun and stressful process. The stress was exasperated by my former "best friend", who made everything about her. After over 15 years of living in her shadow, my happiness and independence apparently proved to be too much for her. She completely ruined the experience of buying/shopping for y wedding dress, selfishly scheduled activities on the same days I had fun wedding stuff going on, alienated my other bridesmaids by being a rude and selfish bitch, and then made me pay for everything for my own bachelorette party. Then, when I called her out on it, she became defensive and refused to acknowledge my hurt over the situation. I decided that day, 9 days before the wedding, that I deserved better than to be treated like shit and cut her out of my life. It's been 3 months now since I've spoken to her, and I'm fairly sure she still feels no remorse. For once in our friendship, my life was going better than hers and she just couldn't handle it. I steadily lost weight while she gained with her 2nd pregnancy, my sex life was fantastic while hers fell flat, and I was planning a wedding she couldn't even dream of. For the first time ever, I felt like she was jealous of me--but the only way she could express it was to be a horrid bitch. She was absolutely the most miserable, apathetic, unsympathetic person I've ever come into contact with, and honestly I'm glad to be rid of her. Of course, her mother had no interest in hearing my side of the story, and instead cut me off altogether. I miss Erik and Lucy, and her dad...but I know I'm better off without her in my life. [There is so much more to this story, I don't even know where to start. I think I'll leave this alone--it accurately represents my anger at the time.]
Other than my wedding day, the happiest moment I had this year was a positive pregnancy test. For 4 weeks, I was lucky enough to have a little life growing inside of me...a little combination of Derek and myself that I'm sure would have brought us incredible joy. We went to our first OB appointment with so much hope in our hearts, so much excitement! My joy turned to sorry, though, when I saw our amazing baby had no heartbeat. It was so hard to see that perfect little nugget on the screen--so perfectly made--not moving. No blood flow. No fluttering heart. What was supposed to be a joyful experience turned into yet another heartbreak. The baby had stopp4ed growing at least a week before we found out we lost it, and I am still sitting here waiting for our baby to leave my body. The waiting has been horrible--feeling like I am still pregnant and knowing my baby is not alive is killing me. I still hope to pass it before my next appointment--I don't want a D&C. I want to see my baby and grieve it. I want to have that moment, even if it's by myself in the bathroom. I'm sure that I will be even more grateful when we get pregnant again and succeed in keeping it alive...it doesn't make it any less difficult, though. I'm not a religio8us person, nor do I believe in angels--but I desperately want to believe that my father is watching over my little one's perfect little soul. It's the only way I can cope with this loss, other than the support of my amazing husband. I am so, so very lucky to have him in my life. I have never loved another person the way I love Derek...he is everything to me and I can't picture my life without him. From spending hours texting me when mom was in the hospital, to holding me tighter than ever when dad died, to holding my pieces together when we lost our baby...he is the most incredible source of love and support I've ever known.
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