June was a Bitch
June began optimistically enough. My 34th birthday was June 1. My dad, who I hadn't talked to in at least three, maybe four years called me to wish me a happy birthday. I had reason to believe the emotional surges I'd been having were due to hormones... pregnancy hormones. My husband gave me a birthday party, with a margarita machine (yay!) and my period was late. Lateness to me over the previous six months was meaningless in and of itself. The nausea and breast tenderness (they hurt when I walked) was making me think (hope) I had conceived again. I waited eleven long days after expecting my period to pee on the stick.
I was up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, June 9, and received the response I expected, pregnant. Jubilant, I sat down at the computer to re-subscribe to the Baby Center website. I calculated my due date and re-read all the information for the baby's early development. I figured out the child's astrological sign to determine compatibility with my husband and myself. I waited impatiently for my husband to wake up so I could give him the news. When I couldn't wait any longer (it was 9:30), I crawled in bed, kissed my husband's cheek and waited for him to open his eyes. Slowly his eyes opened, he said "hi" and asked me what I had been doing. I told him I had been on the Internet and determined our baby was due February 9. The corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled me to him for a kiss. We spent the next few hours optimistic about the future.
We attended a graduation party that day. I told my husband's mother our news and asked for her prayers, since I figured we needed all we could get after last time. Later that day I started spotting. I went to the doctor the following Monday. We saw an egg sac in the ultrasound, but it was too early to see anything else. Many women spot during pregnancy. I felt optimistic, a feeling I'd never had six months earlier. I had to return to the doctor in a week's time, if we saw an embryo with a heartbeat at that time, chances were really good that the pregnancy would progress normally. By Wednesday night, I knew I was miscarrying.
The next weekend was Father's Day. We traveled to Home Town to be with the Dads. One of my husband's family members had suspected I was pregnant at the graduation party (obviously I was pregnant if I didn't drink), and with her brother and brother's wife confronted me about it on Father's Day. I must say, I possess extreme control at times. I wanted to give them a piece of my mind about their constant pregnancy talk. About asking why we haven't had a baby yet. How it's insensitive and cruel. They know I want a child, can't they consider the fact that I don't have one doesn't need to be pointed out to me? So I told them. Yes, I had a positive test, but I was spotting, and that I'd had one miscarriage, and I was pretty sure I was having another, but that I wouldn't know for certain until I went to the doctor in a few days. I asked them not to share with the family, my husband's grandfather is easily upset, and news like that would hurt him. I wanted to cry for them, lash out at them, to hurt them, but I didn't. Hopefully, they will learn to mind their business on their own.
The next week the doctor confirmed my miscarriage. Doctors keep telling me the good news is that I can get pregnant, there may be things that can help me stay pregnant. But they won't do any testing until after I have three consecutive miscarriages. Let's hope we never get to that point.
My car broke down while we were in Home Town. It couldn't be fixed before we had to drive home, so we had to borrow a car from our friends. The power steering went out on the borrowed car the next weekend. We took it to the shop to be fixed. Meanwhile in Home Town, the shop working on my car determined (after a week and a half) that they couldn't do the repairs on my car. My father in law drove it to the dealer after the first shop "put it back together". I received a call from the dealer telling me there were parts missing from my car and that there were no fluids running through the engine. I called First Shop and they suggested the dealer check the trunk for the parts. Because "putting together" a car means placing the parts in the trunk. The dealer charged $250 just to put the parts back on so they could diagnose the original problem. Yes, I will get First Shop to reimburse me for that. I'm married to an attorney after all. So my car got fixed. And there doesn't seem to be any lasting engine damage.
The final weekend in June (THANK GOD), we drove to Home Town for my cousin's 50th birthday party. A few miles down the freeway, the drive shaft fell out of the borrowed car. Yes, the back end of the drive shaft snapped and dragged under the car (truck) right on the freeway. I pulled over and started to laugh with tears pouring down my face and I thought for a moment that my sanity had finally escaped me. I just couldn't believe that so much shit could happen in one month. I was done. I felt at that moment that I could curl up and sleep for a very long time. I might even enjoy a little relaxation time in the loony bin. We still drove to Home Town, barely got to the dealer in time to pick up my car, and managed to attend the birthday party.
July has been a much better month.
I was up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, June 9, and received the response I expected, pregnant. Jubilant, I sat down at the computer to re-subscribe to the Baby Center website. I calculated my due date and re-read all the information for the baby's early development. I figured out the child's astrological sign to determine compatibility with my husband and myself. I waited impatiently for my husband to wake up so I could give him the news. When I couldn't wait any longer (it was 9:30), I crawled in bed, kissed my husband's cheek and waited for him to open his eyes. Slowly his eyes opened, he said "hi" and asked me what I had been doing. I told him I had been on the Internet and determined our baby was due February 9. The corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled me to him for a kiss. We spent the next few hours optimistic about the future.
We attended a graduation party that day. I told my husband's mother our news and asked for her prayers, since I figured we needed all we could get after last time. Later that day I started spotting. I went to the doctor the following Monday. We saw an egg sac in the ultrasound, but it was too early to see anything else. Many women spot during pregnancy. I felt optimistic, a feeling I'd never had six months earlier. I had to return to the doctor in a week's time, if we saw an embryo with a heartbeat at that time, chances were really good that the pregnancy would progress normally. By Wednesday night, I knew I was miscarrying.
The next weekend was Father's Day. We traveled to Home Town to be with the Dads. One of my husband's family members had suspected I was pregnant at the graduation party (obviously I was pregnant if I didn't drink), and with her brother and brother's wife confronted me about it on Father's Day. I must say, I possess extreme control at times. I wanted to give them a piece of my mind about their constant pregnancy talk. About asking why we haven't had a baby yet. How it's insensitive and cruel. They know I want a child, can't they consider the fact that I don't have one doesn't need to be pointed out to me? So I told them. Yes, I had a positive test, but I was spotting, and that I'd had one miscarriage, and I was pretty sure I was having another, but that I wouldn't know for certain until I went to the doctor in a few days. I asked them not to share with the family, my husband's grandfather is easily upset, and news like that would hurt him. I wanted to cry for them, lash out at them, to hurt them, but I didn't. Hopefully, they will learn to mind their business on their own.
The next week the doctor confirmed my miscarriage. Doctors keep telling me the good news is that I can get pregnant, there may be things that can help me stay pregnant. But they won't do any testing until after I have three consecutive miscarriages. Let's hope we never get to that point.
My car broke down while we were in Home Town. It couldn't be fixed before we had to drive home, so we had to borrow a car from our friends. The power steering went out on the borrowed car the next weekend. We took it to the shop to be fixed. Meanwhile in Home Town, the shop working on my car determined (after a week and a half) that they couldn't do the repairs on my car. My father in law drove it to the dealer after the first shop "put it back together". I received a call from the dealer telling me there were parts missing from my car and that there were no fluids running through the engine. I called First Shop and they suggested the dealer check the trunk for the parts. Because "putting together" a car means placing the parts in the trunk. The dealer charged $250 just to put the parts back on so they could diagnose the original problem. Yes, I will get First Shop to reimburse me for that. I'm married to an attorney after all. So my car got fixed. And there doesn't seem to be any lasting engine damage.
The final weekend in June (THANK GOD), we drove to Home Town for my cousin's 50th birthday party. A few miles down the freeway, the drive shaft fell out of the borrowed car. Yes, the back end of the drive shaft snapped and dragged under the car (truck) right on the freeway. I pulled over and started to laugh with tears pouring down my face and I thought for a moment that my sanity had finally escaped me. I just couldn't believe that so much shit could happen in one month. I was done. I felt at that moment that I could curl up and sleep for a very long time. I might even enjoy a little relaxation time in the loony bin. We still drove to Home Town, barely got to the dealer in time to pick up my car, and managed to attend the birthday party.
July has been a much better month.
posted by lzymzy @ 9:08 PM
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