After receiving the news that I was going to miscarry what was growing inside of me, I was in shock for a day or two.
Returning to work on Monday, I moped around and was not myself. I could not concentrate on work, and my job is one that needs full concentration. I mulled over the decision of wanting to miscarry naturally. That was what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted to give birth to children naturally, so what was different about this?
However, after talking with coworkers and really thinking through what the miscarriage entailed, I decided it would be better to have medicine get things started. I had a field trip and parent teacher conferences filling my next week. I could not afford to have things start with 30 kids on public transit. I shakily called the office to tell them that I had changed my mind; I wanted the pill.
They made my appointment for that Thursday and told me to take Thursday and Friday off of work.
Wednesday night I was at school late, making extra sure that everything was ready to go. My principal had a TV show viewing party that I hit up. I recall sitting between my two favorite coworkers, shoving fatty pizza and sugary soda into my body. I wasn't growing anything that needed extra care now, so I could do what I wanted.
Thursday morning I headed to the office by myself. My husband had class and he could not get out of it. One last ultrasound "just in case." I then had four prescriptions written out for me and I was sent on my way.
Why go anywhere else when you can to to a SuperTarget pharmacy? I handed in the prescriptions and then proceeded to fill the 20 minute wait time with pity shopping. I loaded my cart with Nutella cups, egg rolls, sour cream and onion flavored something, and chocolate milk. On the way out, I grabbed the prescriptions and numbly shook my head when the pharmacist asked if I had any questions. I was trying to get something that usually brings happiness and joy into people's lives out of my body. How could I mess that up?
At home, I made a nest with blankets, my computer, a couple books, and the pity food and inserted the suppository. And...nothing.
I inserted the suppository at around noon.
The afternoon flew by.
I downed most of the pity food and checked for bleeding every half hour.
As 4:30 neared, I had a decision to make. I had a Master's class at 4:30 and again at 7:15, but nothing was showing signs of starting. 'How bad can the start of a miscarriage be?' I mused. I emailed both professors to let them know the basics of what was happening, but insisted I would still show up for class.
"Do not come! This is what I would consider a medical emergency," was the reply from both of them.
I went to class. (Why did I go to class?)
Class number one was fine. Near the end, I noticed a bit of bleeding. Finally!
Class number two started and I began to feel different.
Normally I have an extremely heavy flow. Not a super dramatic girl's "heavy flow," but legit triple times the bleeding of an average woman heavy flow. This was more. This was intense and gushing and crazy.
I thankfully had the sense to leave the class early. I could tell I was having major leakage. I was living the nightmare that many teenage girls have. I could tell it was spreading everywhere. The car could not come soon enough. Thankfully it was shortly before 8 and I did not pass anyone else on my flight to my car. I briefly thought of my stain-free light colored driver's seat as I sat down in shock. I really felt for the first time that I was loosing the growing mass inside of myself. In a sea of hysteric tears and uncontrollable bleeding, I safely made it home. I was shaking like mad and pleading in prayer the entire way.
Once home, I was not sure how I would get out of my car. I did not want to see the damage nor did I want to get blood anywhere else. I did not know what to do. The doctor did not prep me for this. (What to do if you are bleeding so quickly, you leak through a pad in ten minutes...) I felt very alone. When I did get out of my car, I could not help but look down. It looked like a murder scene. There was enough blood for a murder scene in my car.
When I got inside, I stripped and plopped down on the toilet. The clots that started coming out really made me start to lose it. At this point I started texting my husband, begging him to come home from work. He wasn't sure how bad it really was. I begged again. He relented and was home within fifteen minutes. When he came in, he was surprised by all the blood. We both fretted over the clots and blood that were pouring out.
It took almost an hour for the blood to slow enough for me to feel comfortable getting off the toilet. We spend the rest of the night with me sitting on a plastic bag while we watched Downton Abbey.
While the blood did not take long to subside pouring out of me, the bleeding did not completely terminate for six weeks.