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How My Miscarriage Ruined My Summer Vacation

The second D&C surgery went well. I think it goes without saying, I didn't die, and everyone was glad about that. There was a bit of a scare for my husband — the doctor told him it wouldn't be a long surgery, maybe 15 minutes or so, but he told me that almost two hours had passed before my doctor came out to tell him I was in recovery. He insists that he did not think I was dead, but I'm pretty sure he's just saying that and totally thought I was dead. Anyway, I was all doped up, but the doctor called me later that day to tell me she felt very sure they had gotten everything, but that the remaining tissue was really stuck in there, so I think it was a good thing we went to the hospital and not the clinic.

GRARARRRRRG. Mind if I scream for a moment? Thanks. I am feeling so frustrated this week, because I thought I would be in a different place physically and emotionally by the time my in-laws rolled in. They arrived last night. My father-in-law and his significant other have been planning on coming out to visit us for months. We thought by September, we would be feeling better, maybe even trying again. But instead, I'm still recovering from surgery, reliving the first trauma and loss all over again and frankly, I am an emotional wreck. The hardest part about this visit is that when I thought of September (before we knew the pregnancy wasn't viable), I figured when they got here, I would be starting to show and wouldn't feel as moody and crappy. We were planning a trip to Spain in October for our BabyMoon. I was going to bust out those $8.99 maternity cargo pants I found at Ross that I bought before I needed them, because they were so cheap. I was going to make my husband watch YouTube videos to learn how to French braid my hair. I had pregnant lady plans, and they all just went away.

Yesterday, my husband came home from work and told me someone asked how his weekend had gone. He'd said, "Shitty." He told me it felt good to just say it — that we'd had an awful summer. My therapist pointed out that this has been a time of loss for me since we found out I was pregnant, and that I need to acknowledge all of my losses. Not just the baby, but loss of things I enjoyed doing but stopped the minute I saw the plus sign (drinking, eating sushi, being selfish, hot springs, etc.). As well as the loss of my regular socializing and activities after losing the baby. I have been trying to get in my normal exercise, but if you ever been depressed AND had to bleed for 8 weeks straight at the same time, then you may know it's not always possible.

We live in a planned community that has FIVE swimming pools, and I was unable to use any of them this summer. We had a patio put in for all the summer parties I wanted to have in our new home, but I couldn't bear to see anyone. And now, what should be a joyful visit with family has been turned into an anxiety-filled trial, where I try to pretend I feel OK, but I look like hell and just want to be in my bed zoning out on television. My husband keeps saying, "You don't have to do anything." The problem is, I am who I am, and while I am not a perfectionist, I like for guests in my home to feel comfortable, have everything they need and feel loved by me. I keep trying to put a button on this paragraph, wrap it up with something uplifting for my fellow sufferers past and present out there, but all I got is: This has been a really shitty summer and it totally sucked.

Whew. I'm done and it did feel good to write that, I guess sometimes keepin' it real is the best option.

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