9+2 weeks

Last Sunday, this is what I was. 9+2 weeks pregnant. Since it didn’t go well, last time, ending with Serena’s death, I have been worried sick since I took the pregnancy test and it showed positive. It took 2 days before I bothered telling T. that I was pregnant. And I did not feel like telling the children at all since some of them can not keep their mouths shut. Nor did I want to disappoint them soon after telling them the good news. Because in all our books, is was good news! Something that we have talked about for almost two years and hoping would happen.

At the same time, I am a realist. I knew that chances for me getting pregnant were slim. The internet basically says it is almost impossible to get pregnant when one has hypothyroidism. But a miracle did happen! And I was an idiot and thought the miracle would keep. Even though the internet also informed me that most of the pregnancies that do happen, end in the first trimester, in a miscarriage. I thought I had God on my side this time. That the medicine I am taking would solve the problem that caused Serena’s death. That the medicine would keep me going and save this baby’s life. I was contemplating starting to blog about my pregnancy last week to give other people with hypothyroidism hope. Good thing I did not because now I can only tell all of you, that I have been added to the statistics. Text book scenario. In the evening of week 9+2 days, without forewarning, I sat down on the loo and the paper I wiped myself with was covered with blood. I was in total shock that evening. And then I started reasoning with myself, well one can bleed eventhough one is pregnant. It does not have to mean the end.

But the next day the bleeding continued and the next. For three days now, I am having bad contractions that almost makes me loose my breath at times. Nothing except blood is coming out. No baby, no placenta… I am scared witless. 4 months before I got pregnant with “Boo”, I had a first trimester miscarriage. That time I phoned the women’s clinic and asked them what to do when I started to bleed. They told me that nature takes care of itself. Unless I felt that I could not get the rest I needed at home and unless I was loosing way too much blood, I could stay home and just wait it all out. So that is what I did. It took a month for the bleeding to stop. I was 6+3 days when I lost that baby, so a couple of weeks less than this time. But why should their policy have changed since then?

I just now that the women’s clinic is the last place where I want to go. Never ever do I want to set my foot there. I never want to meet “Nurse Ratchett”, or maybe I should call her Nurse Godzilla, again. I never ever want to go through a scraping again. Never wake up from the surgery feeling colder than cold, nauseous and feeling a need to pee eventhough there is nothing there. I never want to receive blood again and shake with cold from it. The whole experience was a nightmare. And I had to go through it twice with just a week and a half between the two surgeries.

… I was never able to finish the post Saturday because my contractions became worse and worse. There I sat on the loo realizing that every time that I have been through these sort of labour pains, I have been in a hospital and getting laughing gas or at least morphine, to deal with the pain. Here I had to sit scared, feeling lonely, being in excruciating pain AND having people run in and out of the lavatory since I am never allowed any privacy at all. I have no idea what came out, but nothing that looked like a baby… I went to Church yesterday to teach my lesson but then I was so near fainting that I had to drive home right after my lesson. The contractions started again last night and then again today when it was time to go fetch “Kitty” and “Boo” from school. I was in so much pain while driving that at one stretch I was driving 30 kilometers/hour and all other cars were overtaking me. I walked very slowly in to the school and begged “Boo” to come out at once, and then walked out again, not waiting for him. I am worried sick. My belly feels bloated and tender. But I still don’t want to conctact the women’s clinic. If one is going to miscarry, why can’t one just do it quickly and get it over and done with. Why does it have to get this drawn out and painful? Is it not enough that one mourns the child that will never be? Why does it have to be rubbed in this way? It feels so cruel.


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