Friday, May 27, 2011

home and empty

First, I need to thank all of you who have kept us in your thoughts and prayers, who have reached out by leaving me a comment, or by calling, or sending me emails. I want to thank Rebecca and Jess who posted about our situation and sent many of their readers over to my blog, and who also left very supportive comments. Thank you to all old and new readers who left a comment of support. I thank Misfit, Bunny, Adele, Roccie, Pumpkin, and LisainSK who reached out by email. It was really helpful to talk with Misfit and Adele about the m/c options and help make up my mind. I thank Oat who posted an update yesterday in the comments section when blogger was being uncooperative, and for her immense support now and always. I also thank all my beloved IRL friends who read this blog and grieve with us at this time. As much as grief is trying to occupy 100% of the space in my heart, gratitude cannot help but grow in there at the same time. I am not sure how I would have gotten through the last 48 hours without all of you.

After several earlier phone calls with my doctor on Wednesday, we talked in the evening about what options were available for evacuating the pregnancy (doesn't that sound horrible). She told me that the u/s report showed that little owlet stopped growing at 9w0d. It had already been three weeks. In retrospect, I see that the decrease in nausea wasn't coincidental, but in fact a sign that things were not going as they should. She gave me the option of taking misoprostol at home for 2 consecutive days, bleeding out over the weekend, and having an u/s on Monday to see whether everything was gone. Let me say that this option never appealed to me. It sounded protracted and emotionally draining. The other option, a D&C under general anesthetic, is the one I chose. I told my doc at 9:30 am yesterday morning that it was my preferred option, and by 10:30 am, she called back to say that my surgery was at 3:30 pm that day. My doctor has had a stillbirth (and thankfully, 2 other successful pregnancies which resulted in beautiful boys), and she said that the doctor who took care of her during the stillbirth was the one who would be operating on me. She said she was lovely.

We arrived at the hospital with heavy hearts. I was looking forward to visiting that hospital in December for the birth, but instead we were going in to put an end to this pregnancy. The person who registered me at arrival was pregnant. It felt a little cruel, dear Universe, but I quickly decided it wasn't personal. I got registered and admitted quickly. The nursing staff was exceptionally kind. We were there at 1:30pm, but my surgery didn't happen until 4:15 pm. We had a visit from our doctor in that wait, who was indeed lovely. She came in and right away shared her sympathy for our grief. I guess my doc had told her our story, and I was glad for it. She felt that it was a very good sign that my body had taken on the pregnancy and that we should try again.

The procedure was quick, I think. It's good to be asleep for these things, if you ask me. I am so glad we made the decision to go with the D&C. I woke up in the recovery room, not sure if it had happened. When the nurse told me it was done, I started to sob. "I'm not pregnant anymore". But that didn't last too long. There was some physical pain to contend with, some morphine to be administered. I was finally wheeled back to the day surgery area at 6:35, where I was reunited with Mr. A. I was ready to go back earlier, but they had brought an elderly lady to the recovery who was in very rough shape. Both nurses were tending to her. I felt so bad for the elderly lady. I could hear the nurses and the doctor talk and she clearly was palliative with what sounded like lung cancer. It was another hour and a half before they let me go home. I got to drink and eat some cookies. Again, the nurse was extraordinarily kind. She was giving me hugs by the time I left. We got home a bit after 8 pm.

It feels steadying to have events to describe. Somehow, I feel like the worst is yet to come. I know how to be in survival mode. I've had a lot of practice at that. But when it's time to go back to work, and start thinking about thriving again, I fear I won't be adequate. I fear the dark grips of depression wanting to close in on me once again. How many more years of depression? How many?

For now, we are just regrouping. I had a pretty bad sleep. I was up from 3 am to 6 am. My body was confused with the lack of eating from yesterday, and was ready to eat again. So I spent those hours reading, eating a bagel, and sitting outside for 45 minutes listening to the birds in the early morning.

Today, a few of our dear friends have stopped by to offer us their love and support. It feels good to have so many loving friends around us, in real life and in cyber space.  

Thank you. I can't say it enough. Thank you, dear friends.

44 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry for your loss. This is a terrible thing to go through. I myself went through a D&C last year, and waking up from the surgery, realizing you're no longer pregnant, is so incredibly hard. My thoughts go out to you.

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  2. I'm thinking of you as well. I've had a D&C and an MVA (similar, but awake) and although it is not easy no matter what, I feel that being out for the process is somehow...kinder. Know that you aren't alone.

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  3. Dearest Augusta,

    Please, please don't worry about being an "adequate" thriver (that is SO you to phrase it that way -- striving to meet expectations even in the hardest times.) For now, just do the surviving you need to do, however you need to, however long it takes. This is happening on your schedule, not anyone else's. There is no adequate, no best practice, just you living this.

    You've reminded me of this so many times: you are allowed to feel whatever you feel: the grief and the gratitude both in their turn.

    I believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that while it doesn't look that way right now, the universe really is (to quote Mr. Brezny) conspiring in your favor. There are blessings to come, I know it, and you will discover them in your own time.

    Meanwhile, we will all be with you as you live through these days of survival and we will be with you as you move, as you surely will, into a thriving time.

    All my love, and C's, too.

    XOXOXOXOXO and ((Alex)),
    H aka Oat

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  4. Still here. Still thinking of you all. So sorry that you are going through this. It breaks my heart. I pray that more hopeful days will arrive sooner rather than later.

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  5. I'm glad you had a good experience with the medical team taking care of you. I know that sounds odd, but I think good empathetic care helps start the healing process. Lots of love to you and yours.

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  6. Augusta, thanks for posting the latest. I am glad that you did the DNC. I did that too with my first m/c. Please let me know if you need anything. Here at your side.

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  7. That is one big heart to find room for gratitude in the middle of all that pain.

    I imagine waking from surgery was a horrible realization. My heart breaks. It seems so painful to put an actual date to the loss, I am so sorry.

    We will do everything we can to keep darkness out and away from you.

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  8. Augusta I've been thinking about you all day today. I am sending you lots of hugs and love.

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  9. Im so sorry I thi k you made a good choice with the DnC...the mist postal was awfu, and. It doesn't always work (like for me). I wrote a lot on my blog in June about the after effects of my MC - it was a long road, BUT we got through it and so will you.

    You are strong and in time you will heal. As much as it hurts right now, it will get easier. Thinking of you.

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  10. I'm so grateful that this experience could come with so much compassion and kindness, though I so so wish it had never come at all. I hope there will be small things to comfort you in the coming days. Much love.

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  11. I am tearing up as I read your blog entry today. I understand the emptiness that you are feeling right now. I have lived your exact story 2 times (missed miscarriage after 8 weeks). The first time was 9 years ago and the second was 2.5 years ago. Thankfully, I was able to have a healthy child in between the two miscarriages. I agree with the other posters that it will get easier. Praying for you and all of the infertiles waiting for their miracles.

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  12. I am so so sorry. I also had to have a d&c after 8 weeks - unfortunately they did not put me out for it, I was wide awake and only given an ibuprophen - it was horrifying. I am glad you did not have to experience that. It does get easier....it just takes time. Thinking of you and praying for you!

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  13. My dearest Augusta, I am gutted for you. I am glad that this bit is done. I long for the next chapter, knowing that it's going to happen for you. You have been very much on my mind and in our prayers.

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  14. I am sorry, Augusta. I know your emotional pain will take longer to heal, but I hope your physical pain is eased soon. Abiding with you during this difficult time.

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  15. Oh I am so sorry that you two have to go through this. It is also great that you have such a strong support system. Please lean on everyone and don't put pressure on yourself to feel better. I am so hopeful for you guys whenever you decide to move forward.

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  16. Oh Augusta I am absolutely heartbroken for you. And I agree with Roccie, your heart is so big and kind and good. Which makes this news so unjust and unfair and I wish there was a way to erase it all and re write a happier ending, the one you deserve. I'm so very sorry Augusta. I think you made the right decision in opting for the d&c, I had the same feelings after my one, it was a releif to be asleep for it and just have that part over with quickly. I agree there is a long way to go and it is hard to get back to 'normal' with work and life in general. But dont think about that just now, and besides you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for. This news is awful and big and heartbreaking, but you are bigger than this and some way, with very small steps, you will move forwards at your own pace.
    I am thinking of you and holding you very dear in my heart.
    xxx

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  17. You are so beautifully gracious. Only you could find space in your heart for gratitude at a time like this... I'm just glad it is occupying some of the space that would otherwise be consumed by grief.

    All my love,
    Themis

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  18. Oh I am so sorry to hear this. I know a little of what it feels like - I had a m/c at 8 weeks in April. I believe prayers are what got me through, and I will definitely be praying for you.

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  19. Dear Augusta, I'm here from Rebecca's blog to send you my heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your little owlet. I hope you are able to grieve this loss in the company of loved ones, giving yourself time and energy to heal. Grief is absolutely exhausting I know. I have not been in your position so I can't say I know what this loss feels like, but I know how fiercely I loved my baby from the beginning and the amount of love I have for her now is boundless. I hope hope hope that while remembering and honoring owlet you are able to conceive and bring a baby into the world full term really soon. You sound like a wonderful open hearted mama. (( peace and hugs to you ))

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  20. I was so sad to hear about your loss. I've been following your blog for some time. As a fellow Canadian and health care worker, I was glad to hear you got such good care yesterday. It softens the blow of such difficult circumstances...there will be some emotional work to do for sure once you have physically recovered. Reach out to those around you and to the resources available, and, you will get through it....there's no time limit on recovery...feel what you feel, for as long as you need to. It will be OK and the sun will come out again. I know. I've been where you are more times than I care to admit. Thinking of you, your husband, and of course, little Owlet.

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  21. While I do agree, it gets easier, I also have to tell you that it might get a bit harder first. The shock wears off and people start to go back to their "normal" lives and nothing seems normal. . . and I just started reading, but you seem like the type that likes to please others, so you'll try to chin up and soldier on, and. . . like I said, it might get a bit harder before it gets better.

    But then. . . it does get easier. I do promise that. It gets easier to breathe, and it gets easier to laugh, and it gets easier to feel less guilty about the laughing. And though you will never forget your little Owlet, you will get to the point where the memories of your pregnancy will bring you comfort rather than pain. And that will feel very nice.

    In the meantime, you need to take very good, gentle care of yourself. You mentioned your job is wonderful, but stressful and requires a lot of energy, so be sure not to rush back to that. Take a few days.

    I always hated my body, felt it had failed me after a miscarriage, and didn't want to treat myself well. A good friend finally turned me around and said, "If you expect your body to nurture and nourish a baby, you must first nurture and nourish it." Makes complete sense.

    Treat yourself to wonderful things, whatever would normally make you happy (even if nothing makes you happy right now). A massage, a good meal, some tea, a favorite candy (all of the above if you can swing it). And just take care of yourself and be gentle and know that so many people are thinking of you right now.

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  22. Oh dear friend, I'm so sorry for all you've endured these last couple of days and the grief you are contending with. I'm glad you were treated with kindness and compassion by the staff at the hospital.
    The comment you left me earlier brought me to tears. You Augusta are an incredible, loving, strong woman and my dear I can tell you from experience you are stronger than you yet know. I remember wondering some of those same things after we lost Lily, how will we possibly move forward but one step a time together you and Mr. A will find your way. And have no doubt we will all be here with you, encouraging, sending love and holding hope that some day soon loss will not be the focus for you but instead celebration and new life. For now though feel what you need to feel, lean on each other and know that all around this world there are people holding you up in their thoughts & prayers ((hugs))

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  23. I am so sad. It is such a wretched place to be in.

    I am touched that you thanked all the people. It talks of how nice as a person you are.

    I want to say that if there ever was a time for your hubby and you to need each other, this is it. Hold on to each other...talk and hug and cry.

    It is not alright that owlet went away. I am so sorry you have to face this.

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  24. So many sweet gentle comments from so many incredible compassionate women. Beautiful indeed, but I am just in shock that these condolences are necessary.

    I wish that there was something I could do to offer help, to share my love, to tell you that there are people all across the world who are holding you right now. But with grief like this, sometimes the only thing is to feel it. to let yourself have the time and space you need. I know that you know that. but i'm not sure it makes it any easier.

    If there is anything you need, anything that we can do to help, please say. please ask.

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  25. Oh, Augusta, I can't even describe how sad I was to read your last post today as I'm catching up on blogs. What an enormous heartbreak. I wish I could bear a small part of the burden for you from across the world. I will be thinking of you a great deal in these coming days as you recover physically and begin the process of emotional recovery.

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  26. Augusta.... I am so sorry I have been absent from cyberspace and am just now discovering what has happened. I am so incredibly heartbroken for you both. I wish there was something I could do to lift the sorrow. Miscarriage is cruel. IF is cruel. And you are an angel and don't deserve any of this.

    I am thinking of you both. I am sorry to have been awol during this time. Please know you're in my thoughts and my heart.

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  27. I am sorry to hear about what you are going through. My heart goes out to you.

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  28. I remember so vividly that moment when I woke up in the hospital after one of my procedures. The nurse cheerfully said, "it's all over". The ache and the pain of those words and knowing that I wasn't pregnant anymore, well, I can still feel them. It was just awful beyond words.

    Please take all the time you need to heal, both physically and mentally. Listen to your body. Stay home for as long as you need to. My thoughts, love and prayers are with you right now.

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  29. I'm so sorry, Augusta. I am thinking of you ... and I hope you can be kind to youself right now ... take the tome to grieve, however you need to.

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  30. I just found your blog through another blogger's site and I just wanted to express my sympathy. I've had two pregnancy losses, and I think you made the right decision in going with the D&C. For my first loss, I let the doctor talk me into taking the medicine at home, which was a HUGE mistake as it landed me in the ER and didn't even do the job, which just drew out the process and necessitated a D&C later.

    You're in my thoughts and prayers now and in the days ahead.

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  31. *HUG* I'm so sorry, sweetheart.

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  32. I'm so sorry. Here from LFCA.

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  33. I'm so so so sorry. Thank you for sharing with so many of us. I hope you can heal well and that your heart will recover soon.

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  34. My heart breaks for you. I'm so sorry that you've had to go through this. There will be brighter days ahead. I will be praying for you.

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  35. I'm glad you're on this side of things, and that the hospital staff took good care of you.

    I had a D&C under anesthesia for my second missed miscarriage, and it's definitely the best option - my first D&C was in the office with a morphine shot and it was the worst thing I've ever gone through.

    Keeping you in my thoughts.

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  36. I have been in your shoes and I know the hurt. I am sending you a big hug and warm thoughts. I am sorry for your loss.

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  37. Augusta,

    I am just devastated for you. This was such heartbreaking news to read. You and Mr A are in my thoughts and prayers. Words can't adequately describe how sad I am for you and how I wish there was something I could do to help you through this.

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  38. I'm so sorry for your loss. Words can't even express...so instead, my thoughts & heart go out to you.

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  39. You have been on my heart and mind often today, just wanted to send you a little note letting you know you are being thought of & prayers are being sent for you & Mr. A.

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  40. I'm sorry you've had to go through this, but I'm glad you were given such good care. I hope you can continue to take care of yourself, and that, in time, if you find yourself ready to try again, you'll know that you have the support of so many of us out here wishing you the best.

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  41. Augusta, I heard of your blog through several other bloggers who obviously care for you a great deal. I'm so very sorry for your loss. Thinking of you.

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  42. Hi Augusta, I'm so sorry to hear about your m/c. I too had a missed miscarriage last year followed by d & c. I know that choking pain. The depression and blackness that feels like it is going to crush you. I am so sorry you have to go through this.

    All I can say is, with time, you will come through it. You will always carry your loss with you. It is part of you. But you will continue living and eventually you will begin to thrive again. Be kind and gentle to yourself and to each other. Time and love are incredible healers. xx

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  43. Your story brings tears to my eyes. I am so sorry for your loss. I've had 5 m/c's (had 2 DNCs). I know how painful it can be. Give yourself time to grieve. I am glad that you are surrounded by loving people.
    My thoughts and prayers are with you.

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