And Just Like That, It's Over...

I didn't see it coming.

I was living inside this little bubble world we'd created, with our home and our marriage and our daughter. Pregnant, just after the wedding?! What were the odds (and it wasn't the plan!) but, there we were. Pregnant.

Friday I had decided I wanted to head to Clear Lake on Saturday for the day with Elle. Jon and I toyed with the idea of going up Friday night. Ultimately, I said I was fine just going for the day with Elle and maybe I'd stay the night. Jon was going to hang out at home. All was well.

I got everything together in the morning, the bathing suit, the sunscreen, the towels, the life jacket, the snacks, the clothes for warm weather, clothes for cooler weather, pants, sweatshirts, a few bathing suits, swimming diapers, regular diapers, the works.

We headed north, with downloaded Sofia the First episodes on the iPad and a relatively happy toddler and very relaxed momma and momma-to-be driving.

We stopped at Brian's Fruit & Meat Market for fresh veggies and fruit and a few snacks to take to the cottage. We had a good time shopping the aisles. Elle and I don't get that kind of time together all that often.

We got to the lake and just enjoyed the time. Elle took awhile to warm up to everyone, but it was good all the way around. She was so cute in her little dress and the bow in her hair. We ultimately wound up in the lake, with the family and friends playing volleyball and Elle and I watching and her just taking it all in. It was so great. I found myself thinking I'd have to tell Jon how great it was to watch her then, enamored with the happenings in the water, on the water. We hopped in the kayak for a quick trip around the cove.

We got out of the water and changed back into warmer clothes.

And there was a brown discharge when I'd gone to the bathroom.

And I think 'weird' but not much else, because you read that that is pretty typical.

A few hours later, I go to the bathroom again.

This time, it is BRIGHT red, but only a little bit of blood.

And I immediately begin internally freaking out. My brother was at the cottage too, as it worked out, so I enlisted his help. I did not want this to be happening there - anywhere - but especially the cottage. As it would turn out, it had already happened there.

I try to bow out by saying Elle is out of sorts so that's why we're taking off. My aunts protest. So I send the young Lucy out of the room and tell them, "I'm bleeding".

And they say ok, they understand, and they send me on my way.

I head home, get home to Jon, and he's not flustered. Things happen, it's fine, don't worry.

It was not his body these things were happening in and to.

But, there was no more bleeding. Nothing more happening. I just took it easy the rest of the night and Jon took care of Elle and that was pretty much it.

I slept pretty well.

I figured that everything was probably fine.

Until I woke up.

And went to the bathroom.

And there was just...a lot of blood.

And other...

It was over.

I had miscarried Baby Too.

Only, turns out it was Baby Too and Three.

After a call later Sunday afternoon to my ob/gyn, I was told if I had the three symptoms of severe bleeding, cramping or fever to go to the ER.

I had none of those.

Nothing more was happening.

No more blood when I went to the bathroom, nothing. Just what I'd woken up to.

So, I didn't go to the ER.

I called the doctor's office first thing Monday morning and they sent me to the ER anyway. But I still had no symptoms like they'd outlined. That would take two more days.

I got to the ER by 10 AM and was in to a room by 11 AM. Jon was there by that time too. They had done my urine test, positive for pregnancy. They drew blood. My numbers came back and all was very well, except my HCG levels were slightly below what they ought to have been.

I would wait five more hours to go to ultrasound. Where a jovial woman would not realize until after looking at the chart why I was there. She had made small talk first. Isn't that the cardinal sin of working in the medical field?  I'm laying there, having a transvaginal ultrasound done, legs spread, with a cloth over my legs, when the woman leaves the ultrasound wand down there, walks out of the room to get the doctor. That's never a good sign.

He comes in and they are talking and they are pointing and talking about two things.

The doctor leaves.

That was the interaction - no introduction, no pleasantries or otherwise. I asked the ultrasound tech if a battle between good and evil was being played out on the screen. I thought she'd engage. She said nothing. I asked her what she had seen, what they had talked about.

Her response: you should've asked the doctor.

Ha, right. I knew that he was a doctor? and after the first thing I saw of him was him glancing at my girl bits? Nope. That didn't happen.

So, another 30 minutes and the PA in the ER (who I loved) came in. She confirmed that there was no cardiac activity, but that it was in fact - had in fact been - twins.

It was all surreal.

Could it really be over?

The following morning I call my doctor again.

They tell me to come in at 1 PM.

In the meantime, Elle is sweating mightily. I take her temperature. 102.5. I call the pediatrician. They say come immediately. I drive to their office. Elle has both an ear infection and an upper respiratory infection. They give her a shot of Rosefin to jumpstart her recovery and break the fever, I guess. It is a brutal, painful injection and she screams for 20 minutes while we wait to see if she has a reaction. I sit on the floor with her, and we both cry. The doctor asks me if I'm ok and I tell him what is happening, that I'm in the midst of miscarrying and I"m just having a rough day. He gives me a hug.

We manage to make it out of there.

I drop Elle with my Dad.

And I head back to my doctor's office.

Where Dr. Ahmad does another ultrasound. He confirms that the bleeding I experienced all night Monday was more tissue passing and that ultimately, my choices were a D&C or to just let everything pass naturally. Which is where we're at today.

A knock at the door Tuesday evening, and there were flowers from my boss and his wife, who'd lost twins themselves about a year ago and who are expecting their first girl - third child - at the end of July.

I tried to get up for work Wednesday morning. I got up, I changed my clothes. And I just couldn't do it.

I'd gotten my head to a place where my body no longer was. I just needed a day. I was taking Elle to Jon's parents house for the day, the housekeeper was coming to clean. I called in again. And it was the right thing to have done.

I went to work today. I filed my piles of paperwork. I cleaned and reorganized my desk. I got my emails all followed up on. But that's about it.

I'm taking it easy on myself.

Or trying to.

And while every medical professional has told me that miscarriages are typically genetic, that it's a blessing because you don't want to have children who aren't healthy...I find myself wondering what I could do differently the next time, what I did that I could have not done. Did I let Elle climb and play all over me too much? Should I have really stopped drinking caffeine altogether? Was I too overweight to carry the pregnancy?

Adding insult to injury in its most bittersweet form, the reminder for my doctor's appointment - my first for this pregnancy, or at least it was supposed to be - was today. It flashed on my phone. It reminded me (like I needed reminding) of what was supposed to have been.

I'm sad, of course. I'm realistic about it all. I understand the practical nature of all the explanations and everything. I agree with them whole heartedly. I get it.

But I'm not over it. I'm not over the idea of the baby - babies - that we were supposed to meet in February. I set some passwords at work having to do with having the new baby. I can't change them until time's up. Every day, a reminder.

Like I need it.