My husband and I were heartbroken. And not to mention, I was in extreme pain and very exhausted. I guess it's different for every woman/family, but it hurt me badly. I didn't really know where to turn. Obviously, I turned to God because I love God and want to serve him. But, I needed someone to talk to who understood. I called a family member who had experienced a miscarriage. I asked them if we could come and visit for New Years and we did. It was very therapeutic. Of course, my son loves my family and he is cherished and spoiled by all of them so he was occupied. It was also good to be distracted for a couple days. We stayed up late watching TV and eating. We ended up staying the night and slept in the next day. My doctor called to check on me and that was very kind. I'd never had a doctor call me personally. She said to call her if I needed anything. In the days to follow, I talked with my Dr. on the phone several times. She was a great support.
And then the doctor's appointments began. I first visited my OB/GYN's office and they were very kind and did their best to comfort me. I was actually seen by a Nurse Practitioner who was great. She suggested to wait 6 months and try again. She said that there was no way to know any specifics unless we gave the baby over for testing. This didn't seem okay for me. I had heard a lot about low progesterone levels related to miscarriage so I asked if I could have a prescription for the next pregnancy. She said as soon as I got pregnant to come in and she would start the progesterone.
I found that it didn't matter how many days passed, I still felt sad about my baby. It doesn't mean I didn't enjoy my life, my precious son, or my husband, but I was dealing with small bouts of sadness. It wasn't debilitating in my opinion, but there were a few times when I couldn't hear the alarm in the morning and was late for work. Now anyone who knows me, knows that I am habitually late. So it wasn't much of a surprise to anyone except me. It's very frightening to not be able to hear the alarm and wake up for the day. I thought I might lose my job for being late. They changed my schedule, which seemed to help a bit. It's still hard for me to get up and get moving. It took a toll on my body that I was not expecting. Maybe I was somewhat depressed for a short period of time? Oh, I forgot to mention that the Nurse Practitioner prescribed an anxiety medication for me to take. I was not all together convinced that I should take it. I thought I should deal with my grief instead of pushing it away for another day. I mean, who knows when that grief would reappear?
I understand that life has to go on. And believe me, plenty of people were ready to tell me that several times a day. One lady at my work even told me not to cry. And plenty of people were ready to give me all of their odd and "helpful" opinions. I know people mean well, but sometimes a hug or a note saying, "I am praying for you" works as well as a long and drawn out explanation of how god works in mysterious ways. Or, "Well, how selfish you are for wanting more children because some people don't have one child." And "you should be thankful for the son you have already." As if I do not love my son and have not thanked God for him each day. And thanks, but no thanks to those folks who asked me what I had to eat or drink or if I did any strenuous exercise or lifting! Don't they realize that I have questioned myself thousands of times to think of what I could have done differently? It is a strange and terrible feeling to think that it was your fault or feel that something is wrong in your body that you can't fix.
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