So we went back in on March 16th. I had cramped during the week, but nothing out of the ordinary. I thought a few times that the miscarriage was beginning, but it didn't. We showed up at the doctor's office a bundle of nerves, but we were in good spirits, even joking around.
They got us right in and you could see there was no growth. And this time, there was no heartbeat. I was strangely calm and we just talked about options. He scheduled our D&C for the next day (so quick!) and we headed over to the hospital to do bloodwork and meet with the anesthesiologist. The rest of the day went by really quickly and it seemed like it was time for the surgery before I was actually ready for it.
We arrived at the hospital, and I got changed. They gave me warm blankets...I was shivering underneath that stupid tiny gown. I was a mess of hormones. I felt like I could cry at anything. I felt like the nurses were all giving me pitying looks and it just all seemed too much. They finally wheeled me back to pre-op, to give me my IV and ask me for the hundredth time what my birthday was. It's March 11th by the way. It was a really fun birthday. Not.
I was going pretty good, but it was taking a long time for the doctor to show up. I must have been pretty chatty, because they asked me a few times if I wanted sedation. I did not, thank you very much. The nurse knew my husband and said how sorry she was that we were going through this. And then I cried. Just a little. And then I got control.
The doctor arrived and they took me back. I could taste something sort of metallic when they gave me the la-la-land drugs, and I remember leaning forward to do the spinal block. And that's IT. So long, farewell. Keri had left the building.
I woke up and asked immediately for Dave. The brought him in right away (thank goodness) and we sat together while I waited for my butt to stop being numb. I couldn't leave until I peed and I couldn't pee until I could feel my butt. All I wanted to do was be at my home. Just get me home.
It took FOREVER, and I finally just said I could feel enough and to please help me stand up. I almost bit the dust a few times, but I finally settled onto the potty and....about 10 minutes later I think my body just felt sorry for me and did it. Thanks, body.
They ripped out my IV (ouch) and taped it so tight I looked at Dave like - UGH. But then we were out the door (in a wheelchair) and headed home. Or, CVS for medicine, Subway for supper and THEN home. I was starving, by the way. They didn't let me have clear liquids after 6:30am and my surgery was at 2pm. God bless Dave, he set his alarm at 6:15am and brought me a bowl of jello. And then I snuck two spoonfuls at 8:30. I'm such a rebel.
So I got home and snuggled up to Dave on the couch. I was still pretty numb, so I was feeling pretty good. I went to bed early and only had minimal cramping the next day. As the week went on, I was feeling really good. I took it easy until Friday, when I decided to clean my house for some friends who were coming over to keep me company. I wore my stupid self out. I was wiped out when they were here and just started feeling pretty crampy.
So I took two vicodin that night. Hey - that's allowed!
But then things got really bad. Awesome.