I had a miscarriage yesterday. Went to doctor’s today, she half-confirmed it, half-denied it, and then sent me for bloodwork to be absolutely certain. But it’s identical to the 3-4 miscarriages I’ve had before, plus I know I was pregnant, but the official doctor peestick said negative, so hence the bloodwork. But the first time I miscarried, a few months after Little Man was born, the peestick came back negative too, and the bloodwork showed positive but dropping within hours of it happening (I went to the ER for that one, not having experienced it before and not knowing what to do). So I guess I’ll get it confirmed tomorrow when the lab gets done with my bw, and…that’ll be that. Nothing will have changed.
So I’m grieving. And in pain. And bleeding, like still a lot for me, though not nearly as much as when it actually happened (while I was at work, I then had to tearfully tell the owners what happened and then WALK HOME because my hubby was too far away to give me a ride). I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until it was gone–I was like, is this a really good thing? It felt good, but I remember the sleeplessness, the diapers, constant fucking diapers, the worry and the pain and the fear, the frustration, though I would know better this time around what to do, I think. But then…what if I pass on the autism again? What if I pass on the EDS? The depression and anxiety? I know these things aren’t like, the end of the world, at all, and they’re at varying levels of hard to deal with, but I don’t want my child to struggle like I am already, like Little Man has been, and might still yet to come? (his joints look hypermobile, unusually so…).
But I guess I did get my hopes up, because here I am, crying on and off, unable to get off the couch to even do the damn dishes, or make myself dinner, or anything. I’m nauseous, I’m deadly craving water, and my cramps and back pain are still fighting against me, and now I’m in sweats (I haven’t worn sweats in like a year) and I desperately need a shower but I’m like…wtf is the point of anything. I’m in a deep depressive downswing, guys, and it’s not okay or pretty or timely. I think I’m just gonna stay in bed tomorrow and do nothing all day. Read, or something. Like I used to when I had nothing to worry about, when it was summer and I was alone and I had nothing with which to fill my days but books and TV and video games. No job, no SO, no kid, no bills to pay or house to keep clean, nothing. I crave nothingness.