My dearest Apollo and Artemis,
I have the cutest son in the world. He is the reason why I want more kids although I haven’t been lucky in that department. It stings whenever I see him getting sociable with other younger kids but, oh well, I suppose it’s not our time yet.
I will admit it, I’m not keen on being pregnant. Not anymore. I used to tell my friends that I loved being pregnant, that I felt most beautiful when I was pregnant. Unfortunately, it is no longer the case anymore. The innocence of being pregnant has lost on me. Sometimes, I wonder if my failure in this respect has anything to do with my trepidation over being pregnant. I do believe my hesitation is just due to fear but maybe truly, I just am not wanting it hard enough? Maybe that’s why I don’t get to keep my babies? Cause you know, Kim doesn’t want a baby hard enough.
I was in the middle of getting my life back when I found out I was pregnant recently. While I was thrilled with the baking bun in the oven, I was also slightly disappointed that we had to suddenly put many plans on hold. Running 10K. Perform an unassisted headstand by the end of the year. See my mum-in-law in England. We were supposed to visit Barcelona and Ibiza too. Resume scuba diving. Oh, and finally visiting Japan! I had to stop all my activities immediately cause I don’t want a baby to fall out of my bits. All those plans evaporated the moment the second line appeared on the stick. Due to my scummy cervix I had to be near my hospital for my entire pregnancy so there was no other options but to stay put, and stay still.
But it’s okay, I found a doctor I liked and we hatched a battle plan to ensure the birth of a healthy full term baby. Alas, I lost it anyway. I wonder what sort of bug I picked up in Lombok? I thought 9 weeks was pretty safe to travel to somewhere near and yet, the heartbeat just stopped. Doc said it could just be chromosomal abnormality but what if it wasn’t? What if it really was the flu? This means I caused it right because I made the decision to go to Lombok? Was it sensible to fly 3 hours in a plane full of people who coughed without covering their mouths? Did I bring this upon myself? I really shouldn’t blame myself but the questions swirl constantly in the mind and cannot be stopped.
Lately I find myself looking at pictures of Apollo and Artemis again. Thinking of the what-ifs. Crying. Wondering why I hadn’t done this and that and hating on people who are happily pregnant with their seconds and thirds. Crying. Finding faults with my husband, with myself, with people I think who should have cared more. Crying. Eating 3/4 of a 9×9″ brownie. Crying. I can’t stand myself like this. And yet, I can’t help it.
I hate that I’m writing this blog post. I hate its tone. I hate its content. I hate that it’s incoherent. I feel weak and lame and pathetic. But I do this because I always seem to feel better after pouring everything out in words.
I am very sad. However, I am not grief stricken. I know the difference between the two. I hope nobody ever has to find out the difference for themselves.
Been drinking my green smoothies everyday, been writing in my gratitude journal everyday, been eating paleo every day (well almost), been doing sun salutations everyday, been meditating everyday, been reading everyday, been getting my shit together everyday and then I got struck by the worst flu while on holiday in Lombok.
I have never been this sick when I was still a cow’s milk guzzling, cheese chomping, sugar inhaling, grain celebrating fiend with poor impulse control. Now that’s irony of life.
Since we were in Lombok, obviously I packed light and was unable to keep myself warm against the intense cold chills that kept striking me. I mean, Lombok was so hot my husband suffered 2nd degree sunburn but there I was writhing and shivering in cold under a duvet. Yeap, fucking ironic.
After suffering for 2 days, which included 7 hours of uncomfortable waiting and shivering (2 in a cafe, 1 on the ride to airport and 4 at the airport) for our flight home (couldn’t kill time anywhere cause I was sick af), I was so glad to be home.
I made myself a glass of fizzy vitamin C, downed it, then a hot cup of lemon & ginger tea which I sipped contentedly. Everything is going to be fine tomorrow, I told myself. Then I went to bed with an equally relieved Liam….not, he was actually in proper beast mode made worse for me by my throbbing headache, aching body and constant chills but lets not get into that now.
The next morning, I woke up woozy and still sick but I had to wake up cause it’s an important day. It’s the day that I was to receive my first progesterone jab in preparation for my cervical stitch as deng deng deng, somebody’s 9 weeks pregnant! Happy days.
Then I went to wee, wiped and guess what’s on the toilet paper? Oh this is becoming such a common theme in my blog now; mucus, blood, plug, whatever.
Told the husband, he made a sad face. I felt like slapping him because he wasn’t helping me at all. In hindsight, it was too early in the morning and he was dealing with lots of sunburn related pain.
Anyway, I drove to the hospital in a sort of daze, all the while chanting in my head, “Baby you are fine, stay with mummy”. Saw my doctor, told him about the chills, fever, flu, and the pee incident earlier. He looked concerned and told me to get on with the ultrasound.
I saw the blob on the screen but doc kept digging into my belly in silence. I just knew. I spoke first, “No heartbeat?”
He sighed and said, “I’m sorry there’s no heartbeat, no blood supply”. Maybe cause I was sick so I couldn’t react much. I didn’t cry. He said the fetus died only very recently as it measured right on the chart so he suspected it could be due to my chills/flu but it’s also probably just chromosomal abnormalities.
Doc gave me my options (a) spontaneous abortion, basically letting nature takes its course (b) D&C, which stands for dilation and cutterage, a surgical procedure which increases chances of future preterm labour (which by the way I have already experienced TWICE despite never having the procedure done in my life – irony much? Hahahaha) and (c) medicinal approach but have to go to Singapore as drug isn’t available in Malaysia. I chose option (a).
Went to my car, finally grasping the reality of the situation and had a good cry. Steering wheel beating and all.
3 losses in a row. You’re really fucking with me aren’t you, Universe? And while I am painfully passing out blood clots that could have become my child, I am also dealing with this debilitating flu crap. You win, Universe.
And to top it off, I got a painful toe-curling foil cut (foil version of paper cut) while taking panadol soluble out of its box. I have no words. So, what’s next, huh? Septicaemia from my foil fucking cut? Well, come at me bruv.
# – You, Universe, have a special sense of humour.
This miscarriage does not hurt as much as losing the twins (bloody clots vs fully formed babies – easy maths) but even myself am surprised by how quickly I am with moving on. Instead of sadness & grief I am mostly annoyed. Annoyed by this flu that I can’t seem to be able to shake off, annoyed with not knowing when the bleeding’s going to stop, and annoyed with the uncertainty of whether I would get a complete and clean natural abortion cause I really don’t want to get a D&C.
I suppose my lack of self pity is because statistically it made sense for me to have an early miscarriage, afterall it’s my 3rd pregnancy.
# – From tommys.org
Well, better luck next round. In the meantime, I’m just going to spite the Universe by washing my hair with store-bought shampoo (yeap, I have been cleaning my hair with just water for the past 3 months). Ambik kau.
Ps: cute lil button finally came out with the placenta at 7.30am today complete with teeny fingers, toes, eyes and mouth. I googled pictures of miscarried 9 weekers and damn, you are so much cuter than all the pictures. I am sorry you couldn’t make it. Would have loved you so much. RIP bub.