OK, this isn't the type of anniversary that I want to remember, but I can't help but count the weeks. Why do I have to count each Friday as my miscarriage anniversary. It seems like a sick thing to do. But hey, I don't feel too good (on the mental front) so I will do what ever the hell I feel like doing.
I mustered up strength to get the mail, and I had a little surprise. A letter from my former partner's attorney. It is still so difficult to think of her as an "ex" or "former" anything. It is still difficult to believe that I am no longer with child. It was a draft lawsuit against me for not paying her for the house and furnishings.
Did she ever ask me for an amount? The answer is "No".
The next day, she called to ask me if I got the letter. I was told that she retained the attorney to help her come up with a number because she didn't know how to calculate what was owed to her. blah, blah blah. Her lies poured out into my ears while I think "I'm not pregnant anymore"....
I did manage to ask her about the numbers. I mean, she retained the attorney to help come up with numbers, but she paid him to frighten me with a draft lawsuit that didn't have a dollar amount anywhere. What bullshit. It was like a merri-go-round because she restated her reason for hiring an attorney. I may be emotionally devastated, but I can easily see that she did still did not produce a number for me.
After everything that I have done for her, after the way I treated her, after everything, I get this fucking lawsuit. Nothing like getting stabbed in the back and having the knife twisted when I'm at the lowest point in my life. She often told me that she thought me life was easy and that I didn't have any hardships. She would be angry when she was telling me this (I should have picked up on the clue that she was jealous and not a supportive partner).
Well, ain't you happy now. Lookey here, I am miserable. I'm having a hardship. I am depressed and can't get out of it. I am a zombie. I am a shell of a person. Happy now?
6/18/2007
Week 1: In hiding
I lay in bed. I cry. I sob. I scream. I don't eat. I don't answer the phone because I don't have caller ID. I only answer my cell phone for calls from my family.
I am depressed - the most that I have ever been in my life.
I am alone. I am without my baby.
I spend hours researching miscarriages. I feel so guilty, since I think I did something to cause my miscarriage.
I am depressed - the most that I have ever been in my life.
I am alone. I am without my baby.
I spend hours researching miscarriages. I feel so guilty, since I think I did something to cause my miscarriage.
- maybe it was the stress of her moving out
- maybe it was my 2 week business trip
- maybe it was the walks/hikes that I went on
- maybe it was the lack of sleep
- maybe it was my lack of demanding closer monitoring by my doctor
- maybe it was the lack of hormonal monitoring by my doctor
- maybe it was something that I did
The Helpful Bitch
I laid in bed screaming and crying. I never knew that I could scream and sob so loudly due to intense emotions. My body still thought I was pregnant, and I was an emotional mess. Since no friends knew that I was pregnant, I had no one to talk with. My best friend, my lover, my partner had abandoned me.
Then she showed up. Just waltzed into the house, expressed condolences, and started to clean. She needed to clean, because when she moved out she left the place filthy. I was very thankful for her to clean my sheets and mattress pad from the evidence of my miscarriage earlier that day. Despite her being helpful, she let me know that she wants payment for her part of the house and it was going to be much more than I thought. Nice. Really nice.
She also let me know in her venomous voice that she only took what was rightfully hers, or things that she thought she was entitled to have. Interesting that things we bought together (with my money!) were no longer in "our" home. It was no longer a home, but just a place to live. So, I lay there in bed wearing my adult diapers, having a deflated stomach, and hysterically crying over her hurtful attitude and words. I asked her how she could be that cruel to me when I just had a miscarriage a few hours prior. I never received an answer.
The next day was a repeat with her being even meaner to me. Apparently, I violated some unknown rule when I watched her mowing the lawn. I was once again reminded of things that I would owe her, and that I would have to pay her a substantial amount of money. She was telling me this as she unscrewed artwork from the wall. Crying, I asked her if she could possibly wait and just leave me alone since my miscarriage was they day before. Was I really in a relationship with this person for 11 years? I've never needed her more, but she wasn't there for me. It wasn't like I did something to her to make her leave me. How could she hate me this much? How could she just leave me crying and sobbing. Just 4 months prior, we were looking at purchasing a new home together. What the hell happened?
It was like a light switch had been switched off. She just ended our relationship without trying to save it.
Then she showed up. Just waltzed into the house, expressed condolences, and started to clean. She needed to clean, because when she moved out she left the place filthy. I was very thankful for her to clean my sheets and mattress pad from the evidence of my miscarriage earlier that day. Despite her being helpful, she let me know that she wants payment for her part of the house and it was going to be much more than I thought. Nice. Really nice.
She also let me know in her venomous voice that she only took what was rightfully hers, or things that she thought she was entitled to have. Interesting that things we bought together (with my money!) were no longer in "our" home. It was no longer a home, but just a place to live. So, I lay there in bed wearing my adult diapers, having a deflated stomach, and hysterically crying over her hurtful attitude and words. I asked her how she could be that cruel to me when I just had a miscarriage a few hours prior. I never received an answer.
The next day was a repeat with her being even meaner to me. Apparently, I violated some unknown rule when I watched her mowing the lawn. I was once again reminded of things that I would owe her, and that I would have to pay her a substantial amount of money. She was telling me this as she unscrewed artwork from the wall. Crying, I asked her if she could possibly wait and just leave me alone since my miscarriage was they day before. Was I really in a relationship with this person for 11 years? I've never needed her more, but she wasn't there for me. It wasn't like I did something to her to make her leave me. How could she hate me this much? How could she just leave me crying and sobbing. Just 4 months prior, we were looking at purchasing a new home together. What the hell happened?
It was like a light switch had been switched off. She just ended our relationship without trying to save it.
Pregnant then Not Pregnant
After nearly 1 year of trying, I achieved a pregnancy with IVF. Just before my procedure, my partner of 11 years announced her departure. She wanted independence (not very conducive to a relationship), she wanted to run her own life, she didn't want to be a mother, she wanted to get away from me.
Despite the considerable amount of stress that I was under, I managed to achieve a pregnancy at 42 yrs of age. Very soon after my good news, I hit 43. The fear of being a single mother at 43 was overwhelming. Still shocked at being dumped, I was even more shocked to have her move out while I was out of town. She decided what items were hers and made 100% of the decisions as to what she would take. Apparently, what was 'mine' was hers, what was 'ours' was hers, and what was 'hers' was hers. I came back from my trip to find 6 news papers in the driveway and 1/2 the household contents to be missing. I was upset to say the least. I was spotting which had me very worried. She called and hung up when I answered the phone (*69 is good for something).
The next morning, I had diarrhea and some cramps. I also had my appointment to see the specialist for my CVS test. I soon discovered that my diarrhea was not causing the cramps, but was a side effect from cramps. I was having a miscarriage, as was confirmed when I sat on the toilet and filled it with blood and large things that came out of me (due to all of the blood in the toilet, I couldn't see what I passed but they felt large). I screamed and cried while this was happening because I knew it was the end of my dream.
I called my OB, but had to wait for a call back since it was early in the morning. While I waited, I passed more blood and stuff. My doctor told me to come in to the office and someone else would see me. I packed myself up with 3 pads and a towel between my legs. More safety towels on my car seat completed my preparation. It worked, because I made it to the office and was taken immediately to the back. There was no question in my mind that I lost the baby - there was too much stuff coming out of me.
I knew things were bad when the ultrasound technician says "Oh my" and runs out of the room. You would think that she had never seen blood all over the examination table and dripping onto the floor. She bagged out of my exam and I had to lay there and wait for a physician to be called into the office. The grim faced doctor arrived and confirmed that she couldn't find the baby or heartbeat. I was 12 weeks and 6 days along.
Off to the hospital I went for an emergency D&C. My OB just happened to be there and she was waiting for me. They didn't want me to drive myself (something about passing out due to blood loss), so my sister came to get me. It was a surreal experience - laying there an knowing that I no longer carried a life within me and getting prepped for the surgery. I cried a lot, my sister was shoving her 15 month old into my face because she believed the baby's kisses would make me feel better. I still cringe at the recollection of the baby being shoved at me - it was one of those defining moments that I will always recall.
I cried while waiting for the surgery. It was horrible to know that they were going in to scrape my uterus - the home of my baby. I wondered if the baby was really dead. I was awake when I was wheeled in to the OR. I had to move myself onto the OR table and adjust myself so that my body was positioned just above the hole in the table - the hole where my blood and uterine tissue would drain out of me. I'm glad that I was not awake for getting strapped into the surgical stirrups.
When I awoke, I was crying - I was not pregnant anymore. The nurse was very compassionate to me, but I would have rathered her to be rude and for me to still be pregnant. My body still thought it was pregnant, but I wasn't. I bleed all over the floor when I changed into my street clothes. I wore two adult hospital diapers. My sister drove me home, and that was that. I was alone in my broken home. I wasn't pregnant. I was wearing pads and diapers. My partner was gone from my life, and I never needed her more. It was May 4, 2007
Despite the considerable amount of stress that I was under, I managed to achieve a pregnancy at 42 yrs of age. Very soon after my good news, I hit 43. The fear of being a single mother at 43 was overwhelming. Still shocked at being dumped, I was even more shocked to have her move out while I was out of town. She decided what items were hers and made 100% of the decisions as to what she would take. Apparently, what was 'mine' was hers, what was 'ours' was hers, and what was 'hers' was hers. I came back from my trip to find 6 news papers in the driveway and 1/2 the household contents to be missing. I was upset to say the least. I was spotting which had me very worried. She called and hung up when I answered the phone (*69 is good for something).
The next morning, I had diarrhea and some cramps. I also had my appointment to see the specialist for my CVS test. I soon discovered that my diarrhea was not causing the cramps, but was a side effect from cramps. I was having a miscarriage, as was confirmed when I sat on the toilet and filled it with blood and large things that came out of me (due to all of the blood in the toilet, I couldn't see what I passed but they felt large). I screamed and cried while this was happening because I knew it was the end of my dream.
I called my OB, but had to wait for a call back since it was early in the morning. While I waited, I passed more blood and stuff. My doctor told me to come in to the office and someone else would see me. I packed myself up with 3 pads and a towel between my legs. More safety towels on my car seat completed my preparation. It worked, because I made it to the office and was taken immediately to the back. There was no question in my mind that I lost the baby - there was too much stuff coming out of me.
I knew things were bad when the ultrasound technician says "Oh my" and runs out of the room. You would think that she had never seen blood all over the examination table and dripping onto the floor. She bagged out of my exam and I had to lay there and wait for a physician to be called into the office. The grim faced doctor arrived and confirmed that she couldn't find the baby or heartbeat. I was 12 weeks and 6 days along.
Off to the hospital I went for an emergency D&C. My OB just happened to be there and she was waiting for me. They didn't want me to drive myself (something about passing out due to blood loss), so my sister came to get me. It was a surreal experience - laying there an knowing that I no longer carried a life within me and getting prepped for the surgery. I cried a lot, my sister was shoving her 15 month old into my face because she believed the baby's kisses would make me feel better. I still cringe at the recollection of the baby being shoved at me - it was one of those defining moments that I will always recall.
I cried while waiting for the surgery. It was horrible to know that they were going in to scrape my uterus - the home of my baby. I wondered if the baby was really dead. I was awake when I was wheeled in to the OR. I had to move myself onto the OR table and adjust myself so that my body was positioned just above the hole in the table - the hole where my blood and uterine tissue would drain out of me. I'm glad that I was not awake for getting strapped into the surgical stirrups.
When I awoke, I was crying - I was not pregnant anymore. The nurse was very compassionate to me, but I would have rathered her to be rude and for me to still be pregnant. My body still thought it was pregnant, but I wasn't. I bleed all over the floor when I changed into my street clothes. I wore two adult hospital diapers. My sister drove me home, and that was that. I was alone in my broken home. I wasn't pregnant. I was wearing pads and diapers. My partner was gone from my life, and I never needed her more. It was May 4, 2007
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