My Story

The chronicle of the journey from infertility, to miscarriage, to finally raising twin girls born in June 2012.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Just like in the movies

I try to write in chronological order so it's easy to read and it reads like a story but this one is probably going to be a jumble.

In the car, I tried to lean back and keep my body about as straight as possible, again, to relieve the pressure.  K was obviously driving fast but I'm also a notoriously nervous passenger so he was also trying not to go so fast that it would cause me tension.  But it was almost midnight, a few nights before Christmas, so there was no one else on the road which allowed us to really get ourselves there.  We live about 10 minutes from one of the largest hospital complexes in the country so we were able to get there almost immediately.

I'm not even sure the car came to a complete stop before I waddled out at the emergency door.  And K went to park the car.  Not a single person in the waiting room other than the 2 triage personnel who saw me as I hobbled in.

So I started spouting the most succinct details.  "Pregnant.  Twins.  19 weeks.  OUCH!!!  Abdomen.  Like horrible gas.  ARGHHHHH!!!"  And I'm leaning face forward with my hands on the arms of a chair as the triage guy gets on the phone.  And the phrases started happening that you don't want to hear.

"We've got a pregnant woman here...."  "How far apart are the contractions?"  Shit, no denying now, these are contractions.  It's defined.  Shit.  "About 3-5 minutes"  "Yeah, she's having contractions every 3-5 minutes"  "Get the wheelchair"

And I'm still in denial.  Still trying to say how embarrassed I'm going to be if I just need a big fart.  K has come in at that point.  I was kind of specifically ignoring him throughout most of this because I knew seeing his face would just be too intense.  So while my reporting may not include him very much, he was there every moment.

I'm in the wheelchair and just like the movies, I'm being rushed through corridors while holding my stomach and screaming and grunting.  I even commented that I felt like I was in a movie.

And that goddamned coughing.  I've had a persistent cough since the beginning of December.  No other symptoms of anything, just a nagging cough.  No fever, my nose has been stuffy since my pregnancy started so that wasn't related to anything, no sore throat, just a cough.  But now, every cough was a slight push.  So throughout ALL of this, I'm desperately trying to cough as little as possible and only from the top of my lungs when I couldn't help myself and not do a real cough.

Now I'm laying down on a gurney and more corridors.  People standing over me introducing themselves in very calming tones.  Bullshit.  And everyone is calling me by my first name.  I don't have the energy or wherewithal to tell them I prefer my middle name.  And usually I only ask people I'm going to have an extended relationship with to call me by my middle name.  Generally for doctors or whoever, I just let it go and not worry about it.  So I'm allowing them to call me by my first name to help convince myself of the temporariness of this situation.

I'm in a full on panic.  And a lot of pain.  And no matter how much they try to not let me hear them, I'm still hearing phrases like "Try to save...."  and "Ok M, we're going to ....." in that very calming tone.  I've now been having consistent contractions for about an hour.

And they are trying to make me do the Lamaze breathing of hee hee hoooo.  I give it one half hearted attempt but it's just not going to happen.  I want to breathe and scream as I want to and attempting to do that breathing just means labor and I can't do anything that will admit that's what's happening.


  1. Hi, I'm Marie. I'm here via Mo, via Group Therapy Thursday, after reading your unsolicited advice and noticing where you live. (Creepy, I know, but that's kind of what we do here, isn't it?)

    I wasn't going to say anything on a post this old, but then I saw something in your about, telling me to comment back as far as 7 years if I wanted...

    It was at Evergreen, wasn't it? I had my D&C there, for an 11-week blighted ovum - or two, from the look of my sad, empty-sacked ultrasounds - in Sept. 2008. Actually, I worked in the TJs right there for a few years.

    Anyway, I'm sorry that we have this horribly similar connection to that place. I look forward to giving unsolicited advice with you again next week.

  2. @bakeryclosed

    Hi Marie,

    Yes, it was Evergreen. The same hospital I was born in, my girls died in. I think I win on the creepy factor there!

    Email me privately if you'd like to pen pal and see if coffee might be in our future.



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