Roadblock

Well our journey to being a family of four hit yet another roadblock this past weekend. On Saturday I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. According to my calculations I was about four weeks pregnant. Simon was so happy but I was hesitant to get excited. I knew that this wasn’t necessarily a sure thing given that we lost our last two pregnancies, but I was reassured by the pregnancy symptoms I was feeling. I had the tender boobs, the nausea, the headaches and the backache. With my last two pregnancies I didn’t have any symptoms at all so I was hopeful these were a sign that things were different this time. On Sunday I had really strong back pain on my left side and some occasional cramping. I tried to brush it off as normal but I think in the back of my mind I knew that something was wrong. The pain continued on Monday; so much so that I bought some heat pads to help with the pain. On Tuesday I was home with Quinn because her caregiver was sick. We had a great morning playing together but when I brought her up for her nap I felt a trickle ‘down there’. I immediately knew what was happening. I knew I was miscarrying again and three miscarriages in a row definitely means something is wrong.

 

Simon and I went to see my doctor yesterday. You remember I told you about her? Well, she and her office assistants fucked up again in my opinion. Pardon my language. When I’m standing in the waiting room with other patients sitting around I don’t want to be hit with “sorry for your loss”. Um, thanks? Do you think maybe I can just make a follow-up appointment? WTF? Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe I’m just looking for someone to blame; someone to vent my anger and frustrations on. Or maybe they can learn to use a little discretion? My doctor was no better. “Well at least you can get pregnant. You just can’t stay pregnant. You know some people would give anything to be pregnant for even an hour.” Seriously? I get that I’m lucky to have had Quinn. I completely agree. But when I have lost three pregnancies and am obviously upset and scared, how dare you say that. Would those women really want to be pregnant and miscarry? Probably fucking not.

 

I left the appointment with a handful of requisition forms for blood work, a follow-up appointment for a full physical, an appointment for an ultrasound to confirm I miscarried again and a referral to a fertility clinic.

 

I won’t lie. I’m scared. I’m scared of the unknown. I’m scared I may never have another baby. I’m scared I might be sick. I’m scared of how this will affect my relationship with my hubby. I’m scared that Quinn might not have a sibling. Bottom line – I’m scared shitless. But I am also hopeful. I’m hopeful that I will now be dealing with more compassionate and knowledgeable people at the fertility clinic. I’m hopeful they might figure out what is going on inside me and hopeful they can help us.

I suppose only time will tell.

On the bright side I can now have that glass of wine I’ve been wishing for and boy do I ever need it!

xo, Vicky