This is part 3 of my miscarriage story. Read part 1 and part 2 here.
After we got the news (on a Friday) but before the D&E, we had to get through a long, shitty weekend.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I was supposed to go wedding dress shopping with my best friend and her other bridesmaids that Saturday. My initial instinct was to cancel – surely I shouldn’t be oohing and ahhing over pretty white dresses when my world had just exploded, I couldn’t go five minutes without bursting into tears, and oh yeah, I was still carrying around a dead baby. Right?
My friend told me I certainly didn’t need to come if I didn’t feel up to it, but it really helped, actually, to get out of the house with three awesome girls and have a) my first Diet Coke in three months and b) a giant margarita (also, needless to say, my first in three months). Oh, and to ohh and ahh over pretty white dresses instead of spending the entire day sitting on the couch eating donuts and feeling sorry for myself.
On Monday, we went to Northwestern for the first step of the D&E.
First, we had a long consultation with a fellow and a resident. They expressed their sympathy and talked to us about “arrangements” we could make. Apparently, it’s now an option at Northwestern to have your baby (fetus?) cremated or buried, instead of just having the hospital dispose of the remains. We also had the option to have a blessing said for the baby before and after the my surgery. While I really appreciated having both of those options, in the end, we declined them.
Then we talked about what was going to happen with the D&E. That day, Monday, they would be starting the process to dilate my cervix. The next day, Tuesday, I would come in for surgery. I would have an amnio to see if my OB was correct about the baby’s chromosomes. I was supposed to take it easy both days and was not allowed to go to work (not that I was complaining).
The dilation process? Hurt like hell. My husband was in the room holding my hand, and I squeezed it as hard as I could. When that was finished, we went downstairs so that I could have blood work done (typing, etc.) in preparation for surgery. My husband (have I mentioned it was his birthday? Poor guy) went to go fill my prescriptions for pain pills and antibiotics. As soon as he left, I passed out at the blood work registration desk. Like, cold. I fell on the floor. I remember having a dream that involved the characters from Twilight, and when I woke up, I had no idea where I was.
So, that was awesome. I hadn’t eaten anything before going to the doctor, so that was probably the issue.
The next day, I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink before surgery, which was scheduled for 1pm. I didn’t really mind not eating – I was nervous – but dude, I normally drink a LOT of water. So that drove me crazy.
When we got to the hospital (I was at Prentice), everything was pretty easy. We had a wait a good while in the pre-op room after checking in, but I think that’s fairly normal. Many, many nurses and doctors (I think there were six doctors total: the big-shot for reals attending doctor, the fellow from the previous day, the resident from the previous day, two anesthesiologists, and a student) came in to introduce themselves, check seemingly random things, and ask the same questions about whether or not I’d eaten that day.
During this time, I didn’t really feel sad at all. I felt upbeat, actually, glad to be getting this taken care of, to be starting to move on. Also, to have people acknowledging what I was going through.
After a few hours, I got wheeled into the operating room, and they started the anesthesia. As I drifted off, I heard them getting ready for the ultrasound for the amnio. I remember thinking I was really glad I didn’t have to deal with another crappy dead-baby ultrasound.
And then I was out.
I’ll pick up from there in part 4.
