Disaster.

[rivka]

There's not going to be a baby.

There was never a baby.

I woke up this morning and found that I was bleeding. Just a tablespoon or so of old, brownish, sludgy blood. Called the midwife, who was sort of guarded about the possibilities, and then went to the hospital late this morning for an ultrasound.

At that point, I was still kind of keeping hope alive, a little bit, because there hadn't been any more blood.

The ultrasound tech told us absolutely nothing. Just that she would have to show her pictures to the radiologist, who would call my doctor. That made me pretty sure that the news would be bad.

After the ultrasound she left the room for a very long time. When she returned, she told us to go directly to my midwife's office.

They put us right into a private office instead of making us wait in the waiting room with the radiantly pregnant woman already there. We waited a while. Then Kathy came in and told us how sorry she was.

There was never a baby. There was nothing on the ultrasound that even looked like a baby. Just some... masses... and some cysts. It may have been a blighted ovum that's now starting to disintegrate, but it also may have been trophoblastic disease, which is, um, an abnormal growth of cells that triggers pregnancy hormones but is... just a mess. Just a growth of nothing. Most trophoblastic disease isn't malignant, but some forms are. There's a risk that cells from the... growth... will travel through the bloodstream, implant somewhere else, and start to grow.

I'm going to need to have a surgical abortion. It's apparently way too risky to wait for a natural miscarriage, and even too risky to take mifeprestone for a chemical abortion. It will probably be either tomorrow or Monday. Then I'll need to be followed by, I think she said, a perinatologist for several months to make sure that my hormone levels go completely back to normal and there are no signs of additional growth.

There was never a baby. There never was. I can't even begin to describe how horrifying that is. It feels like it's worse than having the baby die, because it's just so... awful.

To be honest, I think I'm still kind of in shock. I cried and cried at the midwife's office, but I don't feel like it's really sunk in.

I came back to work because I didn't want to just sit home and stare at the wall crying. I actually feel like I'm going to be able to get some things done - I have a lot of mindless-but-concentration-requiring busywork on my plate - but mostly, I don't know, I just don't want to be with myself right now.

I don't think this is something I can cope with. So I'm holding off on that as long as possible.

Comments left enabled even though I can't imagine what anyone could possibly say. Anyone suggesting any possible variation on "it's for the best" or "you'll have other children" will be terminated with extreme prejudice.

Comments

[annaoj.livejournal.com]

i'm so sorry.

[casperflea.livejournal.com]

I am so sorry.

[ailsaek.livejournal.com]

Oh damn. Damn and blast. Take good care of yourself, read books with pretty pictures (well, that cheered me up, if something else helps, do that instead), rest, cry as needed. I am so very very sorry.

[ricevermicelli.livejournal.com]

Oh god. I am so, so sorry.

[zingerella.livejournal.com]

This is one of those times when there's nothing I can say. So I'm saying that nothing, with sorrow and condolence and wishes for health.

That's just .... well .... something else for which I don't have words.

You're in my thoughts and hopes.

[juno.livejournal.com]

Sorry that you are going through this.

[minnehaha.livejournal.com]

*hug*

K. & B

[lizardling.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry.

[ewtikins.livejournal.com]

I'm very sorry to read this.

[futabachan.livejournal.com]

I am profoundly sorry.

[bosssio.livejournal.com]

I am so very sorry for your loss. Lots of hugs and love and all my support for all you are facing right now.

[cassandre.livejournal.com]

There are no right words at a time like this. I'm so sorry; my thoughts are with you.

[ahforgetit.livejournal.com]

Hugs.

[(Anonymous)]

I am so sorry. I am sitting here at my desk crying for you and Michael and Alex. I will put you all in my prayers.

--Nara

[treadpath.livejournal.com]

I am so sorry, Rivka. *hugs*

[mizchalmers.livejournal.com]

Another stranger weeping for you and the baby you wanted so much.

[juliansinger.livejournal.com]

God.

/I/ would certainly be in shock. Nyagh.

I'm glad you have mindless-but-concentration-requiring stuff to do. (If it were me, I'd hope you could find some of that-sort-of-stuff to do at home, too.)

[shandra.livejournal.com]

I am so sorry for your loss.

I lost my full-term daughter at delivery so I have experience with loss and I just encourage you to allow yourself lots and lots and lots of time and space and room to feel what you need to feel and do what you will find that is meaningful.

[micheinnz.livejournal.com]

I can't possibly have any idea of what you're going through. I just want you to know you're in my thoughts.

[nex0s.livejournal.com]

I can't think of what to say except how terribly sorry I am that this is happening. I wish it wasn't.

You have my deepest empathy.

N.

[submarine-bells.livejournal.com]

O gods, I'm so sorry.

[marith.livejournal.com]

Oh gods, I'm so sorry. That is terrible. *hugs*

[annafdd.livejournal.com]

It's awful. It's awful and scary and I am fervently wishing that you get over the medical side as quickly and completely as possible. I studied embriology and I have a very clear picture of exactly how awful it is, and I mean from a simply medical point of view.

In the desperate search for something that my help, I can only say: the words we use for this kind of things ("malignant", "teratoma") rightly describe the emotions they legitimately evoke in us. But in itself, a tumor is just a tumor, a glitch in the mechanism, not a monstrous baby who hates us or Alien. Just a bunch of stupid cells getting their signals wrong and hurting us. You must feel horribly betrayed by your body, but it may be helpful to remember that a body is not a person, and has no volition or emotion. Your body is not evil, just sick. You are still the wonderful person you were before, able to create a wonderful little Alex, and you'll get over this, because you are strong, capable, resourceful, and you have people who love and support you.

*Fierce hug*

[cynthia1960.livejournal.com]

I am very sorry to hear this and, like so many others, will keep you and your family in my thoughts.

[kiya]

*hugs tightly*