The Orion Nebula

This is one STELLAR nursery!

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Who asked you?

I guess the firt time one experiences a miscarriage, one runs right to the doctor. On number five, though? Meh. I know how it goes. It's cycle day 17, your beta is only a 12, you should get your period soon. Smell ya later. Been there, done that. So when I was fairly certain that I'd had (sigh) another miscarriage I decided to spare myself the indignity and ride it out solo.

Big mistake.

So, here I lay for the second night, in a randomly inflating and deflating hospital bed. Having been scanned in every hole imaginable, sucking up all the pain meds they'll give me while the IV antibiotics pour into my system. The doc that came to see me this morning was shocked I was concious, my white blood count was so high. He said things like "blah blah blah lose a tube" and "blah blah blah want more kids?" The general implication being, like reproductive health? Lay back and take advantage of the all-your-veins-can-pump IV bar and be glad you're not in surgery right now. I know there's a crapton of stupidity here. First, what the hell was I doin getting pregnant now in the first place? I know! I know. Second, it's one thing to know your own body but that's no excuse to not get medical treatment. Ugh. I know. I have a habit of thinking I'm smarter than I am when it comes to medical stuff.

However, what in the world makes my friends and family members think that they should be telling me to get my tubes tied to "keep this from happening again". Does it matter to them that I'm not done having children? No. They think this is too hard on me. Ok...then suggest I go on the pill...get a shot...get an IUD...but dude...burn out your own tubes. Leave mine alone.

The More Things Change...
For my 3rd miscarriage, I had to have a D&C. I thought it was totally sick that I had to go to the labor and delivery area for my surgery. It really helped me though, when the sweet old nurse patted me on the shoulder on my way out the door and said, "We'll see you next year, sweetie."

Now, after #5, my hospital room is on the mother and baby/womens surgery/pediatric unit. Every time a baby is born, they play a snippet of a lullabye over the speaker. It makes me wonder if that music will ever play for me again. I just don't think I'm done. Maybe I'll be back next year.

1 comment:

Susan Cullison said...

HUGS!! I'm thinking of you. Your mind is a truly wonderful thing.