The D&C went as expected on Friday. I couldn’t eat or drink from midnight, and my scheduled procedure was for 1:00 p.m. That’s a long-ass time to not have any water. I brushed my teeth several times because I swore my breath was kickin’. Turns out the procedure didn’t take place until after 2:00. So by the time I got home, I ate something around 4:30. Yes, there were snacks in the car that my husband didn’t tell me about nor find until we turned on our street. By that time I knew I could wait for some soup and crackers. Since then, constipation has been no joke.
The doctor was nice. Although when we sat down to talk to us, she got 2 calls she had to step away and take. Both were regarding a woman who was about to give birth upstairs. I heard the doctor ask, “how dilated is she?” and it was painful. But, such is life. I am glad I don’t work in this industry. To spend your Friday afternoon performing a D&C and then go upstairs and welcome a baby in the world. There was another woman on the other side of the curtain also getting a D&C. I wanted to get up and give her a hug.
When I came out from anesthesia, my husband wasn’t there and I just started crying all over again. The day before I had told one of my co-workers what was going on; she still doesn’t know about IVF but she knew about the loss last year. She had said something that was meant to be comforting, like, “God is always watching out for you, always wants the best for you.” And while laying there in the dark post-surgery, I questioned, if God is always looking out for me, who was looking out for my baby?
None of our family and only a very few close friends know we are going through IVF. It was our choice, but then when something like this happens, you know you don’t have support because you kept them in the dark. Yet I read so many wonderful messages from women who read my post. I tried to respond to all of them but I know I missed some. Just know that I read them and held your words in my heart. Thank you all so much.
Today I saw two women who knew I was pregnant and knew I had a sonogram on Thursday. They were both like, “Well… how are you feeling?” with that little smile and happiness on their faces. And I came right out and told them. It actually was easier to say the words this time. Maybe that’s the only part that gets easier with experience.
Another friend, a guy in his 60s who went through some of this with his wife 30 years ago (they wound up adopting), by email said something that I just hated. I poured out my heart by email to him, told him how much this hurt, blah blah blah, and he said, “This too shall pass.” I know people say that in hard times, but it felt like he was brushing it off. Like, “Eh, you’ll get over it.”
Perhaps because we aren’t sharing this with others that I take every little thing people actually say and magnify it in my head. Because it’s the only words I hear and read.