Today has been easier...at least so far. We got up early to see my new ob. Her office is next to Sutter Roseville Hospital, and it looks like some kind of gynecological spa. It was hard to see all of the big bellies in the waiting room, but at least I didn't start crying.
The doctor was nice, and put me at ease. My uterine lining was pretty thin, so I didn't need a D&C. She got me set up with lab slips to make sure my hormone levels are falling back to 0 like they should. Instead of waiting for a perinatology consult when I get pregnant again, she's going to send over a referral. I need to check with the perinatologist so that I get the right formulation of IVIG when I do get pregnant again. I also got a slip for my yearly mammogram and breast mri. She told me to call back in three months if we haven't gotten pregnant, and at that point we'll talk about fertility treatment options. Hopefully it won't come to that. So, in the meantime, I am waiting for word on the hormone levels and the approval for more IVIG. We haven't gotten the bill for the first time. I'm hoping the bill isn't too painful.
I'm so, so sorry you are going through this. Every woman's experience is different, but the one common thing running through them is intense grief. You're right that it is wrong for miscarriage to be shoved under the rug. Apparently at least 1 in every 4 women have a miscarriage. Why is it such a secret? I felt guilty, like I had done something wrong, like my body had 'failed'. I felt ashamed. I irrationally kept trying to think of how to 'turn back the clock' and make him alive again. I've never known such pain in my life. It is true that it has changed me permanently.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that you've been getting good treatment at your hospital and OB office. It makes such a difference. So many women have their grief brushed aside. I know what you mean about not being able to say the words on the phone at the doctor's office. Several days after I found out Innocent had died, I got a phone call from the lactation specialist at the clinic. She had me on a list of women who wanted to breastfeed and no one had told her my baby had died. I had to wait for her long, cheery greeting and explanation so I could get the words past the lump in my throat: "I lost the baby." She was appropriately horrified at her faux pas, but the pain had already happened.
I'm rambling - sorry. I just wanted to let you know that while I would never say to someone that "I understand what you're going through" (because I can't - I'm not them), I have suffered and am still suffering, down this hard road too. It does get better - something that I was told by many people. It's so hard to believe and understand how it can get better, but somehow it does. And it won't mean that you have forgotten or ceased to care about Avalon.
(((hugs)))