I spent my weekend doing absolutely nothing but staying in my pj's moping around and eating junk food. Hubby and I did get out and go to a movie Saturday night, which was much needed. We live in a small town, but are fortunate enough to have our own pretty nice theater about 5 minutes from our house. We saw the movie Silver Lining Playbook. We thought it was an excellent movie.
Yesterday was my D&C. We left our house at 6:40am for an 8:30 check in time. Of course I had paperwork that needed to be filled out. Along with the normal paperwork, the gal at the check in counter handed me a small slip of paper that asked what my goal was for the appointment. Considering what I was there for, I thought that question was really tacky and inappropriate. Hubby agreed. What was I supposed to write? My goal was to get rid of the dead baby inside of me? I was supposed to hand that slip of paper to the nurse. When she did come get me, I gave it to her blank and told her the reason. The nurse agreed that it was an inappropriate question.
The doctor came in and explained what the surgery would entail and answered all of our questions. She was extremely nice. She even humored us when we asked if she would be checking the baby before doing the procedure. Not that I didn't believe the results from the previous week, because I know Dr. W checked extensively, but well.....just in case there was some miracle and there was still some growth after all. She brought the ultrasound machine into the room and we got to see our baby one more time. Still no heartbeat and still at the same growth measured last week. It was a sad moment, but also kind of bittersweet.
We finished signing all of the consent forms and they took a vial of blood from Hubby so they could do a chromosomal test on the tissue of the baby. They are going to do some testing to try to narrow down what the cause of the miscarriage was. It could be something genetic, or it could be something wrong with my uterus. They needed to take a blood sample from at least one of the biological parents, and since that would not be me because we had an egg donor, it was Hubby that had to give up some blood. He was totally okay with that, and I thought it was great that he got to have a turn getting stabbed with a needle. lol
After that part was done, we had to go to a different building to check in for the actual surgery. The worst part about the whole day was getting the IV put in. Oh. My. Goodness that hurt so bad!! I cannot even begin to tell you how much I hated that part. The hospital gown I got was pretty cool though. They connected this really cool hose thingy to it that blew warm air and puffed up the gown (imagine a vacuum cleaner bag that fills with air when it's turned on). But oh boy, when she was putting the IV in I was sweating SO much and was begging for them to turn the warm air off! Low and behold, it could blow cold air too! It was the best part of the day.
About an hour and a half later, I finally got wheeled back into the operating room and I was pretty much asleep by the time we entered the room. That anaesthesia works fast! I was out of it. It's also pretty amazing how quickly you wake up afterward. It's a very strange feeling.
They gave me a mega dose of Ibuprofen, some water, and some crackers. Then they let me go to the bathroom. They have some really fancy hospital underwear that they gave me, along with a pad. There was some blood, but that went away within a couple hours after the surgery. I'm actually really surprised at the lack of blood. They gave me a prescription of Vicadin, but I didn't take any. The nurse almost scared me into taking some before I left the hospital. She said it's really hard to catch up with the pain if you don't stay on top of it. I'm really glad I didn't give in and take it. I had some cramping going on, but I was mostly just uncomfortable, never in any actual PAIN. Unless you count the IV! I don't want to take that stuff if I don't need it. There is way too much of a problem with pain killer addictions in our country. With both of my parents being drug addicts/alcoholics, I tend to stay away from stuff like that if I can help it.
Hubby has been awesome through this whole thing. I know this isn't the case for a lot of people, but this loss has actually brought us closer together. Ever since we found out about the miscarriage, he can't get enough of touching me (not in a sexual way, but in a comforting way!). He said he just couldn't stop wanting to pet me! He has pretty much been at my beck and call, jumping up to do things for me all the time, even though I keep reassuring him that I am okay. Actually, it's been kind of nice to feel so loved and taken care of.
Last night we met with the pastor at our church. It was much needed because I have had a lot of bitter feelings towards God and I needed to get a handle on those feelings. I needed to get a different perspective about things. The meeting really, really helped me come to terms. It really helped Hubby as well. He's been struggling with his faith the past couple years anyway. We are both believers and have never doubted that there IS a God, but sometimes it is really difficult to understand the why. Why does God allow things like this to happen?
I really appreciated that Pastor S did not have any pat answers, but listened and offered comfort. It was exactly what we needed. He is going to find another couple for us to connect with, that is a little older than us that has experienced some of the same struggles we have. He also invited Hubby to meet with him for breakfast sometime, which is PERFECT. That would be so good for him.
Today, I am still binging on junk food. I'm going to have to get over that soon. I may be a personal trainer, but that doesn't mean I don't struggle with having a healthy relationship with food. I've given myself permission to eat bad long enough. I will get back on track as soon as I finish off the ice cream in the freezer....
I am feeling much better both emotionally and physically. I have some minor cramping today, but nothing serious. Emotionally, I feel ready to move on. Or at least ready to accept the loss of this pregnancy. I am not quite ready to accept the lonely outlook of our future without kids.