This post is going to be 50% funny and 50% disgusting. Or maybe it’s 30% funny and 70% disgusting. I suppose it depends on your ‘tude, but my buddy Lala and I laughed over this for a good 5 minutes this afternoon, so I decided to regale my readers with this tale.

Mmmkay, those of you who wear vision correction of any kind will appreciate this the most. Especially those, who like me, have the vision of a blind rat. And when you’re sick, the last thing you want to do is pop in contacts, especially if you’re heavily drugged & prone to codeine-induced narcolepsy. ::all blind readers nod in agreement::

This afternoon, prior to Nate’s lunch & visits from my girlfriends, I decided to hop in the shower. I place my coke-bottle glasses on the counter, and quickly hop into the shower before my vag has the opportunity to bleed all over the bath mats. I’m scrubbing my hair, humming to myself (Britney Spears’ “womanizer” is mighty catchy, no?), and I hear “plop.” And well…I feel a plop. It is loud & distinctive and I think “OH MY GOD I just lost my uterus. Or a kidney. But God knows my body finally gave in and an organ just fell out of my body.” Of course, I am curious as to which organ my body expelled, so I squint to no avail, then scramble past the shower curtain to grab my glasses off the counter. Despite the shampoo in my hair, I put on my glasses which automatically fog up. Remember, I’m intensely drugged, precariously squatting in the shower and desperately scrubbing at the steam on my glasses. Oh yes, I am sexy & coordinated. I’m lucky I didn’t fall, but it turns out that the “organ” that fled my body was actually another clot. Of course. Thankfully, much smaller & only the size of a quarter, which was uplifting.

My life is lame when I measure success in blood clots.

Absolutely disgusting and oddly enough, I did not want to touch it. So I’m cupping my hands and trying to splash it down to the drain. Success! fwiw, I did grab the Clorox spray after my shower; I don’t subject Nate to bathe in my filth. There you have it. Grossed out yet? lolz.

In other news, I’ve found the correct pain cocktail — 1 codeine pill every 12 hours and 3 ibuprofen every 6 hours. I have them spaced out well to where I took the ibuprofen at 2pm, the pain pill at 6pm, and next dose of ibuprofen at 8am. It is glorious, except the last hour always gets uncomfy. 50 minutes until my next dose, so I’m leaning against a heating pad & eating Mike n’ Ikes. Nate & I are setting alarm clocks tonight so that I don’t miss a dose and end up in the same position tomorrow as I was this morning.

Random thought of the day: I super-duper love the movie “The Day After Tomorrow.” You can laugh; Nate surely does. I refuse to change the channel, so he’s on his second beer as a response.

and a real blog post later

Talked to the doctor herself, which was awesome. She said that I should start popping 3 ibuprofen every 4-6 hours around the clock, which will help with both the cramping & the bleeding. She’s sorry that I’m in pain, but unfortunately, it all sounds routine so far. To keep an eye on my temperature, & if I start hemorrhaging to head to the ER stat & call her along the way, even if it’s in the middle of dinner tomorrow. She also said that she just got the pathology report back & although she hasn’t looked through it thoroughly, it did say that she got all of Harpie & the placenta.

God, that sucks to even write that. She “got” all of my baby. Just in case I wasn’t quite sure if my uterus was empty, there’s the nail in the coffin.

On the other hand, I’m thankful they did a path report — I wasn’t sure if they would since this is my first pregnancy & m/c, but I guess it was an odd enough situation to warrant further investigation past “eh, it happens.”

Just a note, though…I admire my doctor so much. I couldn’t do what she had to do & not have nightmares for the rest of my life. I mean…Harpie had fingers & toes. How did she sleep Saturday night, even though it was something that was a medical necessity to keep me healthy? I am so thankful that God makes people like her, that keep the rest of us healthy.

After 6 hours of writhing in pain, the office is open today PRAISE GOD.

Blair: “Hi, this is Blair & I’d like to leave a message for the advice nurse.”
Receptionist: “Okay, what’s the message?”
Blair: “I had a D&E on Saturday, and I am in a lot of pain today. Passing large clots & just in absolute agonizing pain. I didn’t know if this was normal or not, but…”
R: “Oh, I am so sorry you’re in pain & I’m even more sorry for your loss. Which doctor did the procedure?”
Blair: ::sniffles:: “Dr. M.”
R: ::soothing voice:: “Okay, sweetie. She’s in the office today, so I’m going to go take her this message right now. We’ll figure this out for you, I promise.”

::tears up:: I love them.

Nate is up & is officially my knight in shining armor. He brought me a pain pill & a cup of coffee, which have both brought relief & comfort. I have a call into the doctor and the waiting game begins.

We just feel at a loss as to what to think. We wish they had told us what to expect, what to look out for, etc. We know nothing & it’s frustrating.

and I am in pain. Awful, excruciating pain. That will be graphically detailed, so stop reading if thou art weak of stomach & reserve.

This cannot be normal. I am giving birth to blood clots the size of golf balls, my stomach is full of gas, and I am freezing.

Like I said…this cannot be normal.

I’m not running a fever. It started about an hour ago when I woke up with tummy pains. Cramping, but I couldn’t tell whether I cramped in my ute or my colon. I felt like I just had to fart really, really bad. Or maybe the pre-emptive tummy strike before explosive diarrhea (oh, whatever…you know what I am talking about, so stop blushing at your damn computer). I farted. And farted. And farted. I laid there for a good hour, farting & praying that each fart would bring me release, wondering what the hell was happening to my body. I finally got up, thinking maybe the Big Dirty D was awaiting me if I would just try, so I hobbled to the bathroom with a trashy romance novel in hand to comfort me. Sat down, and I swear, a clot the size of a golf ball came out. And another. And another. After a day of barely bleeding, I’m shitting blood clots out of my vagina.

Like I said…this cannot be normal.

Once the clot-birthing came to a lull, I stood up & crawled to Nate’s “man room,” where I’ve been holed up all week. I’m lying on the couch, covered in 3 blankets with a heating pad on my cramping back. It’s 62 degrees in the house, but I’m freezing. And my stomach still hurts, to no avail. I feel another clot coming on, which is a rather disgusting sensation, but the idea of getting up & making it to the bathroom is daunting. I’m contemplating waking Nate, although there is nothing he can do for me right now & there is no sense in stressing him. I’ve contemplated calling the OB on call, but there’s nothing he/she can do for me right now but send me to the ER which is 45 minutes away.

I should have called about my bladder yesterday. But I am stupid, and figured that since I was peeing at a normal rate with no fever, it must just be sensitive to all the infusing & the catheter. I feel like I keep making mistakes about my own care — that I should have called regardless of my bladder, just for pain management. It’s not like they pass out medals for who suffered the miscarriage best, longest, with less pain meds, etc. so I’m not sure what my deal is.

I am, however oddly, comforted by a friend that explained the doctor did do something to her ass during her D&E. My butt has hurt so badly, I feel full of gas, and OH MY GOD the first post-D&E poop was excruciating. Like my muscles, colon, intenstines, etc have all been replied with pain-laced peanut butter. I’ve been scratching my head as to what trauma my ass might have endured, but turns out they do try to “suction” stuff out and the procedure can lead to gasses & air getting stuck in your body, causing pain. Good to have an explanation, although yes, I should have called my doctor.

I will say, that the longer I lay on this heating pad & write to get my mind off the pain, the more I realize the cramping is all in the ute. The bitter, empty ute with Satan-sized clots. Disgusting.

If you cannot tell by this post & previous posts, I am determined to blow the cover off the idea that the only pain of miscarriage is emotional. I have a pretty high threshold of pain, but this is ridiculous. Why does nobody speak of the God-awful physical recovery?

Dear God,
Please bring 8am and an open doctor’s office. I need some kind of divine intervention with time for th enext 3 hours.
Love, Blair