The Little Miscarriage that Couldn't, or, The Waiting is the Hardest Part

No, my miscarriage didn't just come and go as if it were nothing, quick cry and on to the next thing. Truth is, there's a technicality that has our life on pause: it hasn't actually happened yet.

It offically started one month ago today, and since then, very little has changed. See spot run. Or not. I've tried acupuncture, Chinese Herbs and TWO doses of Cytotec, which has resulted in 40 hours of intense cramps, little bruised pinpricks across my midriff, nasty powdered herb burps for days, a return to the dreaded pump to dump my poisoned breastmilk, and nada lot else.

So, the waiting: Over. My hoohoo doc, who has been enormously supportive and creative, called a time out to discuss The Risk of Infection, and I have a D&C scheduled for tomorrow. And in my first real Mother Martyr act, I am willingly having this procedure with local anesthesia only. You see, MZ's not weaned quite yet (she just turned one for heaven's sake, and I've been a little busy, you know, waiting). So in spite of the horror stories friends have told me about THAT SOUND of the VACUUM, and in spite of the relative ease of my previous D&C when the anesthesiologist said, "Visualize your favorite cocktail on your favorite beach" and I was raising my glass and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the recovery room, I am opting for the Cat in the Hat method.

I have doubts and fears about this, but the last two 24-hour experiments with instant weaning have not been great, and really, at this point, this whole thing is starting to feel like a cosmic joke. No, we can't just have a miscarriage and a cry and move on. It's gotta be a 30-day special. It's got to linger both physically and emotionally, and the emotional part has to seem like it might be a huge ocean of denial, perhaps since I can't get it started yet, not being physically DONE yet, not knowing what's in store for me once I'm not actually carrying this little person around with me.

So there's my pity party. My life is great, even blessed: amazing partner, amazing baby, filled with wonderful family and friends in a city I would choose any day. But this one little thing, it really, really sucks. And it feels good to get it out.