Well this is terrible. Mom called it death by a thousand paper cuts.
We were pregnant and thrilled. Then I bled just a little bit and then I bled more. Then I went to the hospital.
Never have a problem the day before a holiday weekend. You'll end up like me, four days later and just getting test results. This is my summer vacation. No work July 2 through 10. I had plans to baby shop and go to the beach.
I spent the 4th of July bleeding into a maxi pad and forcing myself to be ready for the bad news. I called my insurance company and the hospital and got answering machines all weekend. I spent this afternoon getting another ultrasound that shows no baby. No fetus. No heartbeat. The tech kept asking if a "felt OK." Are you kidding me, lady? I am grieving the loss of a baby that never existed. I don't care if you poke me through the organs with that stupid wand. Find out what is happening. I can pee later. You can touch my thigh. This moment is the very least of my worries. I tell the receptionist I'll take any appointment, "I'm on vacation." That's a cruel reality.
I never knew how long days could be when the lab is closed and the ER doctor said the horrible words, "fifty-fifty." What the fuck is fifty-fifty? I wish they had said, "Your pregnancy is certainly over. I am very sorry." Classic under promise, over deliver. My doctor's nurse scheduled an appointment for Thursday to do final tests and decide what to do next. She doesn't sound optimistic. So, that's a full week to diagnose a miscarriage.
This is the worst vacation ever.
