The weekend was bearable. I appear to have survived intact. F and I didn’t win a darned thing, but that wasn’t exactly the point of going. It was for “west and wee-waxation”, as Mr. Fudd would say.
I’m so proud to have married my darling husband. He did the perfect thing, as far as I was concerned. He didn’t try to ignore the elephant in the room, as some would do. Nor did he make a huge deal out of it, which would have made me even more uncomfortable and miserable than I already was. He simply gave me a Mother’s Day card that stated that he was glad he’d married me. God, I needed that. I couldn’t help but cry, but it wasn’t a miserable sort of cry, really. It was more of a bittersweet kind of emotion. He told me he’d bought it a long time ago. I really, really appreciate what F did. Even recalling it now, it brings tears to my eyes.
We came home late Sunday night, and Monday I really felt out of sorts, so I didn’t go to work. I thought it might’ve been bad food or something, but I wasn’t sure. I’d also starting seeing traces of pink when I went to the restroom, so I had my suspicions in that direction too.
Sure enough, I was right. Late that afternoon, I took a shower, and while I was towelling off, I noticed blood on the towel. Even though I knew it was coming, it still took my breath away. I tightly gripped the blood-stained part of the towel in my fist, sat down on the commode, and sobbed. I was still like that when F got home later – stark naked and wailing on the toilet, towel clutched in my folded hands. Poor man – he doesn’t handle me crying and being upset very well at all.
I took Tuesday off too, partly because I was a basket case, and partly because of the lovely cramping. It’s weird, too. It hurts more to lay down; the cramping’s worse then. It started in earnest about 2:30AM Tuesday morning, bad enough to wake me up, and I usually sleep like the dead. I will say that the cramping hasn’t been as bad since then.
I’ve been snuggling up with a heating pad at night, which seems to alleviate most of the discomfort. It also makes me the most popular sleeping companion, as far as our beagle’s concerned. I’ve been waking up with a beagle attachment for the past couple of mornings, with a heating pad between us. One can’t help but smile when you see how she’s allllll stretched out, right next to me. It’s pretty cute. 🙂
My RE told me to give her office a call when I had had the miscarriage. I think I’ll probably give her office a ring this next Monday. I’ve read several ladies’ accounts of their miscarriages, and, of course, I don’t know if the worst is yet to come, or if this is it, or what. Considering the baby’s heart stopped sometime during the seventh week, and that this would have been my (sigh) 10th week if I were still pregnant, it’s possible that my body could have started to reabsorb things in the womb. I may not (TMI alert!) see a recognizable placenta, or anything definitive. I imagine I’ll probably keep bleeding for at least another week, though again, I could be wrong. I have no idea.
These days, my body is and is not my own, if you get my drift.