The bleeding freaked me out way beyond all proportion. I mean, most of my bleeds have been significantly worse than this one and I logically seemed to know that things were probably just fine. And even so, I went a bit into overdrive. I know, hard to believe, but yes, I freaked and asked to go in to my OB office for a peak at the monkeys to make sure hearts were beating.
Ya know the constipation I mentioned earlier? Yeah, that's been a bit more traumatic for me than I've been talking about. When I lost the girls, for about an hour, I mistook labor for constipation. And there was straining on the toilet and things coming out where they shouldn't and feeling it with my hand. Shortly after the toilet experience, the undeniable labor started which was pain all around my core.
So this last week, I had some major constipation. I had some solids in there that took 2 full days of straining and pushing to get out. Those entire 2 days, every time I pushed, well, ladies you know how when you've got something huge coming out the back, it kind of bulges the front too? Yeah, I had that going on, so I had a very tactile similarity in my hand when wiping to last year when I was feeling the sac bulge out. And all of the straining really caused my core section to be sore the last few days, including lower back pain, and every little ache has reminded me of the labor pain.
So heading to the doctors office this afternoon, I just kind of lost it, all sorts of crying in the car. I'm 10 days away from the one year anniversary of losing the girls. I'm pretty much in the same life situation I was in when that happened (pregnant with twins). All the tactile reminders over the week. And my body feels like it's heading on the road to the same destination I found myself at a year ago - dead babies.
I pulled myself together as well as to be expected and they were able to get me in for my ultrasound very quickly. And the moment wanda was in place, there was Twin A waving at me as if to say "OMG Mom, would you calm the fuck down? I'm right here! Hellloooooooo!!!!!" Twin B was much more chilaxed but just as healthy. Heartbeats at 171 and 167, both measuring 9w1d (3 days behind just as they always have been). They found a small subchorionic bleed, just over 1cm, and that things look good.
I didn't feel the need to talk to the doctor, the ultrasound gave me the info I wanted, but they had me wait a bit to talk to my good ole Dr. C. I still feel kind of silly considering I've got my real appointment with him in 2 days but he really doesn't seem to mind. And for some reason, even though I'd been told everything was fine, and even though I believed that everything was fine, I could not stop crying. It's just been such a hard week and I'm so tired, and I can't handle this constant pattern of bleeding but fine.
So Dr. C comes in and I tell him that I don't understand why my brain isn't communicating with my face and making it stop crying. He says I've got some PTSD going on. That when he saw my name on his appointment calendar, even he had a mild panic flutter because what happened with me was professionally the worst day of his life. So if he's having flashbacks, of course I must be having some major issues. Yup, that's how I just LOVE to be remembered!
But really? PTSD? I kind of feel like I don't deserve that mantle. Women have miscarriages every day. And yeah, mine sucked, and ok, the experience was a bit more dramatic than what most women go through, but really? Was it really such a uniquely horrific experience to warrant PTSD? PTSD seems reserved for those who have truly witnessed/experienced horrific events, like soldiers returning from war. How can what I went through compare to what so many soldiers are surviving day after day? Was mine really that much worse than what other woman are going through every day?
Well, whether I deserve it or not, I seem to be suffering some effects from it. I just can't fathom going into the new year still pregnant. All signs point towards things being just fine, but my brain just won't go there. And as the dates on the calendar swing back around to the same numbers they were when I lost the girls, so does my grief and fear and I'm having trouble understanding that this is a different pregnancy with a potentially different outcome. I just can't help but feel like I'm simply repeating last December.
The babies are fine, but I'm having a really hard time of things.
***Update*** Just to give you an idea as to why I have a hard time believing I went through something so uniquely awful, I spent most of my life suffering from bipolar disorder. So I was disproportionately miserable in relation to my circumstances. So while my miscarriage was the most horrible thing I could ever imagine, I assume that other people have it worse and that my story isn't more horrible than anyone elses. I talked to my dad. My dad is a judge and his career has been determining various benefits for people (they've usually been denied benefits several times by the time they get to my dad so don't hate him, he's pretty awesome). So I asked him if he thought that what I went through would warrant PTSD. He says yes. Soooooooo, if the doctor thinks so, and my dad thinks so, I guess it was pretty fucking traumatic and it's ok for me to be dealing with some lingering effects.