Goodbye Nora

I don’t suppose more details are really necessary other than “empty sac” at nearly 7 weeks, but I’m an oversharer, so you’re getting so much more than you ever bargained for. And, you’re getting sentences that end in prepositions. Because, grammar be damned.

 

Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a shock to me that things weren’t right. I wasn’t nauseous, my boobs don’t hurt, and other than feeling really hungry and tired I’ve been feeling surprisingly normal. Surprisingly normal isn’t a good thing in the first trimester. You WANT to feel like death. You WANT to puke. Those are the signs that you’re gestating a tiny human that will one day live outside of your body.

 

But, I wasn’t feeling that way and went to my appointment at way-too-fucking-early-o’clock this morning braced for the worst, but hoping to hear hear a teensy tiny heartbeat. I then proceeded to wait for some ungodly long time before finally getting called back. The ultrasound tech was either new or just unused to patients that have had trans-vag ultrasounds before, because she made sure to tell me the probe was going IN MY VAGINA like three times. I finally had to tell her that I am a fertility clinic graduate and am used to strangers sticking probes up my cooch. She then decided to check my ovaries first. Because that’s what every RPL suffering preggo wants to see when all they can think about is whether or not their baby has a heartbeat.

 

My left ovary popped straight up, looked perfectly normal, and was just generally A-OK. Ms. Right… not so much. It was lopsided and a bit flat. When I asked about it she blew me off and showed me the corpus luteum. I wanted to say “duh, bitch, I see that, I’m asking why my ovary looks like a pancake.” But I actually said, “Oh, OK.” Then she went looking for the goods. I knew it was all bad when she switched the ute and it looked empty. I could see the lining was good and thick and my cervix looked long and good, but there was no big black circle in the middle. Just a lot of ute. So, she went digging and poking and probing and found the sac. It was minuscule. Maybe half a cm. Tiny. Too tiny for 6w5d. Then she zoomed in and it was clearly not only small, but also empty (duh). Fuck. So, she said “Let me page the doctor to talk about what we’re seeing here.” This time I couldn’t hold it back and said “I know what we’re looking at here, we’re looking at an empty sac that is much closer to 4 weeks in size than nearly 7.” She was saved from having to answer my rudeness by the doctor walking through the door.

 

He of course thought my dates were off. By three weeks? He ordered betas and another ultrasound in a week. Waste.of.time. An empty sac at this point is a non-baby. I might have had some hope if this had been 5weeks, but not almost 7. Missed miscarriage strikes again. He sent me upstairs to DW, who was very sweet and kind and agrees with me, and the other doctor. He wants to order the tests to be sure before taking any action, but he agrees that it’s a missed miscarriage. So, I had to go BACK DOWNSTAIRS to get my blood drawn in the clinic in the women’s health building. Guess how many pregnant teenagers were waiting on their glucose tolerance test? Guess! Three! And, one adult. So, I sat there with the 4 pregnant bitches who were complaining about the orange stuff and being hungry and waited for my blood test that will determine how long I have to wait to miscarry this baby. I didn’t smack anyone, so that was good. But, it wasn’t fun at all.

 

DW’s office only works a half day on Friday, so they’ll call on Monday with the results. That’ll be fun. As will dragging all these kids to the lab to get the second beta drawn.

 

Telling G and my mom was hard. G cried. Telling the kids was really hard. I didn’t want them to know I was pregnant. I only wanted to tell my mom and sister. For appointment planning purposes. We ended up telling lots of people. It wasn’t FB official, but most family knew.

 

In summary, missed miscarriage sucks.