6 weeks. I was pregnant for 6 weeks, well 5 weeks and 6 days. That came crashing down early this morning.
Let me continue.
I woke up in a blur. It hit me. Like a ton of bricks. I sank further and further. Sitting by myself in the bathroom. I just cried. Its all I could do to hold myself up.
A couple hours passed, and pain set in. Mental and physical. The physical pain had kept me up all night. I have experienced significant abdominal pain, but this was very much different.
Ben and I went to the ER.
First, the world has not become "sensitive" we have lost "compassion". I will leave the name of the hospital out of this. The Dr. was rude. Commenting "ONLY" 6 weeks. His words were harsh (even harsh for tough Ben). His expression was closed, and his compassion didn't exist. He made several comments as if my pregnancy didn't exist anyway. He even went as far as to say, well maybe you are just really irregular.
Yes, ONLY 6 weeks. ONLY 6 weeks after trying for 2 years since our last miscarriage. ONLY 6 weeks pregnant after fearing I would never get pregnant again. ONLY 6 weeks after taking 5 pregnancy tests at different times to confirm. Only 6 weeks after no period for 2 weeks; the one that is NEVER late. We experienced joy, excitement, nervousness, and now immense sadness in that short period. For him to just wash it away with his flakey words.
I looked down at the ground, with my hands on my face praying, and praying. It was all I could do to keep myself from slapping the mess out of him.
A nurse came in, and they were busy, unorganized, and all over the place. Which I can understand to a degree. They drew blood. The guy drawing the blood says, "Oh Congrats, did you know you were expecting?" Only for me to reply. "No, I am having a miscarriage". It hit me, I cried. Uncontrollably. He never apologized, he patted my back, and walked off. I saw Ben out of the corner of my eye, his mouth dropped.
After several other encounters with compassion-less medical staff, in walked a wonderful RN. She saw my pain. She saw the hurt. And at that point she made me feel like a person. She cared. She explained. She showed compassion. I was met with a pregnant ultrasound tech, who showed compassion. Who sympathized, and cared. She explained my HCG levels just never made it to where they needed to be. (Something no one did up until this point).
Then the young lady who did my pelvic exam. She asked me to prop my butt up on a throw-up bin, while she mashed on my stomach, I am SURE that is not proper procedure. I was already in immense pain, and I am positive "Prop patient up on small, hard, plastic bin for vaginal pelvic exam" is no where in a manual of ANY type. As if I already didnt feel awkward, weird, crappy enough. AND I am sure she never looked at my chart to find out where, why, what I was in there for, before discussing with me. Her comment would be TMI. However considering the amount of pain, and balancing act of laying on a plastic bin, I was unable to maneuver to kick her.
To those two ladies who did help, thank you. To the other 5 who were in and out of my room, I will pray for you.
Walking in the hospital, was hard enough. I kept asking "how am I here?". When I had to pee in a cup I thought to myself "I shouldn't be doing this". "Is this really happening......again". For some reason I felt dirty. This was the best way to describe it. I walked in a daze. I am now back in my bed, typing this. Hoping to heal soon. Praying. It's all I have. Tomorrow morning I will wake up. A little emptier. But I will trust that God has his hand on me pushing me one step further. Today he is allowing me to cry, feel, and hurt. He hasn't left my side.
We would appreciate prayers of comfort right now. Yes it was only 6 weeks. But for that short time we were excited. ❤️
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