The End of A Dream

Last post I informed you of how Scott and I were so excited to find out that we were going to have a baby and then unfortunately I miscarried. On July 10, I had one of my worst nightmares come true. I had to have a D&C. The morning of the surgery, I had to have a "confirmation ultrasound" to get a second "opinon" to verify my baby had indeed lost its little heartbeat. The doctor that did the ultrasound was so sweet and apologized for having to see me under these circumstances. She was also the doctor that did the actual insemination that got me pregnant. After verifying the loss, I had to go downstairs to the same day specialty surgery center.

The nurses there were wonderful. They tried their best to ease my mind and help me relax, when all I wanted to do was cry and scream and just go home. My doctor was fashionably late (as usual) and I was finally taken back to the OR about 15 minutes late. I had done so well with keeping calm and not crying. As soon as they wheeled me in that cold, cold room I started whimpering. I was terrified. Not of the procedure, I had every confidence in the world that it would go as planned. I was terrified of being put under general anesthesia. Medicine worries terrifies me if I have never used it before. (When I had my gall bladder removed, I did not do so well coming out of the anesthesia. I was crying, angry, and pissed at the world)

Apparently, everything went well with the surgery and I was childless once again. I remember waking up in recovery, with Scott by my side. I immediately asked him what time it was. He told me the time, and I immediately said "Good, because that means I get to leave in 15 minutes." Prior to going into surgery, the nurse said if everything went well, I could leave by 1:00. The recovery nurse asked if I was in pain, and I wasn't. I was told that I would have to be able to drink and keep down some crackers if I wanted to get pain medication and to go home. All I was interested in was using the restroom and getting the heck out of there. One of the nurses "assisted me" to the restroom. I did my business and called for her. She came back and asked if I had to change my pad. I sarcastically said that I would require underwear to do that. So, she kindly went and retrieved my belongings. I went to grab my underwear from her, and she wouldn't let go. So I ended up arguing with her that I wasn't handicapped, I only had a little surgery. Suffice it to say, she won that battle...if I wasn't hopped up on pain killers I think I would have gotten my way. ;-)

Recovery from the D&C was easy, at least physically. I had no pain, no bleeding...until about a week later, and even then it was just a couple hours of spotting. Recovery mentally and emotionally was much harder. I cried. A lot. Scott was such a good husband. He made meals, he did laundry, he was the only "functioning" person in the house for a good two weeks.

I had a saline ultrasound two week post op to make sure everything was healing like it should be. That was a horrible experience. I have to take medicine to dilate my cervix anytime there is a catheter involved in a procedure. Well, my doctor insisted that it shouldn't be a problem this time. Let me tell you, he was WAAAYYY wrong. He ended up needing to pry my cervix open with a hemostat (which I would not wish upon anyone). I got the all clear and everything looked great.