AUTHOR: Marty, a.k.a. canape TITLE: One of those DATE: 2/19/2007 09:39:00 AM ----- BODY:
It's one of those days. The days where you feel like pretty much everyone is against you. The days when you feel like nothing you do matters in the grand scheme of things. The days when you just keep doing because you can't figure out a plan B.

I went to bed early last night because I couldn't figure out a plan B. On my nightstand was the book that my OB gave me when I went in for my follow up visit. It is called Miscarriage: A Shattered Promise. When I look at the title, all I can do is hear it in my head as read by the movie man's voice followed by the big don don don of the brass. I mean, who named that book? Really?

Not feeling like starting another novel, I decided to read Miscarriage miscarriage miscarriage don don don. Why not, I thought. I might learn something.

I learned plenty. Plenty that I wish I had known the day before I had a miscarriage. I learned that you can request the remains and have them buried. I learned that you can view them. I learned that you have all of these choices that I didn't get. Then I thought, "Would that have changed anything?"

Do I really think that we would have kept the remains of our unborn child and had a memorial service? Do I really think that my mother would have passed that opportunity to tell me that I really had lost my mind?

The thing is, when do you learn these things? Should your doctor give you this book when you first get pregnant and say, "There is a 20% chance you might lose this baby in the first trimester. Here is a book to prepare you for that possibility"? Can you imagine the fear that would invoke in expectant mothers?

I can't.

Although I wish my doctor had.

I wish that I had known there was that high of a risk that our baby might die for absolutely no known reason.

I wish I had known that I should have requested genetic testing and whatever other tests were possible and that the insurance would have covered it. Instead we are left with questions instead of even ruling out answers.

I wish I had known that I could have asked to see him.

That is my only regret, and I have hesitated posting it because I had the sense that it was completely weird of me to have wanted to see him. He wasn't any bigger than a lime, and I know that to some people, hell, maybe a lot of people, it is weird and even gross to think about. But I don't really care. It would have been really nice to have seen our child, hold him, and been able to say goodbye.

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----- COMMENT: AUTHOR:Anonymous whymommy DATE:Monday, February 19, 2007 at 12:01:00 PM EST Yeah. Not weird. Human. And sometimes it's the humanity that scares us.

Remember, though, that you're not alone. If 20% (and I've heard 25% to 30%) of pregnancies end in miscarriage, that means that there are an awful lot of women out in this world who have also suffered such a loss.

We cry and mourn and often bury our beloved pets ... why wouldn't you mourn Cleatus? Of course you would, and you're doing great. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR:Anonymous Sarah DATE:Monday, February 19, 2007 at 4:39:00 PM EST Not weird to me at all. When I talk about my miscarriage and tell someone that I was at home alone when it happened and that I held my fetus (I keep that detail to myself a lot of times because I think some people do feel weirded out by it) they tend to respond with pity or shock, like how terrible to go through that all alone. But I feel fortunate because I was able to make a lot of decisions that would have been taken from me if anyone else had been there or if I'd been at the doctor's office. And I don't know if knowing the odds of miscarriage would help. I knew the odds myself, and it was still crushing. And when I told people and they responded with, "It's not uncommon" or some such like that, it would just piss me off, like statistical freqnency somehow negated my pain. You ask a lot of important questions. I don't really know the answers. But I do think that women should be given more information and more choices so that we can have more agency in how we respond to and process the pain. Everyone needs something different, and the more we know, the better chance that we get what we need to help us cope with grief. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR:Anonymous Oh, The Joys DATE:Monday, February 19, 2007 at 6:37:00 PM EST I don't think you're weird. I think it would have been somehow final - and settling in its way. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR:Anonymous Jessica DATE:Monday, February 19, 2007 at 7:07:00 PM EST While your Mom may have thought you were losing your mind, we here in your cyber-life would have understood completely, would've stood by you, and would have grieved right along with you, and we would've understood that you needed us... You're doing an amazing job with all of this, like I've said before your strength is like a beacon of light to many of us...
BTW, as I sit here typing this to you, Dave Matthews is on Music HD on the TV... He's singing American Baby. Have you heard these lyrics? Interesting. I'll email them to you :) ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR:Anonymous Marty, a.k.a. canape DATE:Monday, February 19, 2007 at 11:01:00 PM EST And once again, you all leave me speechless and grateful.

Thank you. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR:Anonymous Anth DATE:Thursday, February 22, 2007 at 1:03:00 AM EST Not weird at all. I tried to find the baby when I lost it, but it had died at 6 weeks, it was so so tiny, I couldn't see it. So instead I talked to the giant blood clot, knowing my baby was in there. Is that crazy? I don't care. We do what we have to. To deal. I'll say a prayer that Saturday brings you happy news! ----- --------