I saw my wonderful OB on Monday for what was supposed to have been my 8w1d first OB appointment but was instead a discussion on whether to medically terminate pregnancy #9 or have a D&C. She graciously offered to fit me in the following day for a D&C in the OR, and I opted for that. I don't know if getting the genetics on this pregnancy back will help me with healing and moving on, but I figured it cannot hurt. On the off chance this pregnancy was chromosomally aneuploid, that information would help. And if it is euploid again like loss #6, well... more complicated, but more information is more information, and I'm a big information seeker, even if that information is too late to help me. I think. To be honest, I'm not sure, but in case it could help me accept this better, I thought I'd rather know.
The procedure was uncomplicated and straightforward and I had no problems from the anesthesia, so that was good. Strangely I woke up from the procedure physically sick with a head cold that I hadn't had a single symptom of one hour prior, and I've been sick the remainder of the week, with Magpie sick and out of school today as well. It's a real cold, not psychosomatic, but pretty incredible it came on so suddenly and at that specific time.
So I've been at work, and have been somewhat crampy since Tuesday afternoon, and I have a head cold, and I'm dragging a bit and very sad. Some of the dragging is the cold, and I think some of it is that I'm tapering off of prednisone. And my hormones are crashing, so I've been having drenching night sweats as well, which is emotionally painful because it somehow simultaneously makes me think of my upcoming menopause and reminds me of the drenching night sweats I had after I gave birth to Magpie, both of which are hard to think about right now.
Speaking of Magpie, I've been hugging her extra tight and smelling her Magpie smell and rubbing noses with her and giving her butterfly kisses with my eyelashes against her eyelashes (no wonder the poor kid is sick). And she's thrilled I can pick her up ("The doctor says you can hold me again? Really? Oh!!") And it helps. It helps so much that she is here. I think I would be beside myself in grief otherwise, because that's what used to really flatten me, the fear that we would never have a child, never make it out the other side, that our problems were insurmountable. They still seem that way but she is here, and she is so real and present and wonderful and alive and herself. I am so grateful.
But despite that, do you want to know the honest truth? I'm not doing so great over here.
I'm also kicking myself a little while I'm down, questioning why I ever thought I could hold onto a pregnancy and what in the world was I thinking? I'm terminally infertile. How could I not know this? How could I get my hopes up again, even in the limited way I allowed myself to? But of course those thoughts are not helpful, and they are probably not even accurate, although it is hard to tell what is accurate these days.
So that is where things are at today. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Mo
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