Disclaimer: I really will write something soon that doesn’t cause you to feel sad and like my life is a bummer, okay? Hopefully, this is the last chapter. Albeit, a very looooong one.
Second Disclaimer: This is totally too graphic. Like on a while different level from usual Zoeyjane graphic. More like, if you’re squeamish you don’t wanna read this. If you don’t wanna be kinda sorta horrified, or gag a little, move on. Seriously. Onward.
Remember me saying that my body is in touch with my mind? And how as soon as I thought, ‘I’m going to have a miscarriage,’ I saw red? Turns out that was nothing compared to what I was in for.
Just after posting my last one, I mean, literally after hitting the post button, it really began. At 12:17am (ironic since I’d said two days before that if I was going to miscarry, it would be on the 15th cuz that’d be the second anniversary of my dad’s funeral. And I’m morbid. And see stuff interconnected in dates and stuff.) I got up to go to the bathroom. I felt a little weird, some pressure. The cramps had kicked in a while before, but now it was kinda of akin to the pressure that I felt when I was in labour with Isobel and my water broke.
So I sat down on the toilet and I’m sorry (there should be a lot of I’m sorries in here, but isn’t cuz it will already be too effing long), but a virtual blood bath ensued. I had to push out a clot the size of an orange in addition to what was probably about one and a half cups of blood. I was worried about the toilet getting clogged. Once I stood up, the gravity reacted out of my favour - literally seeming to cause my water to break. That was the first pair of jeans and underwear trashed. Comfie PJs were in order, as was a double pad.
Every 45 minutes or so, I’d have to get up to pass more clots and change my pads. At 2ish, I decided that some towels were in order to protect the bed, since I couldn’t tell how much I was bleeding at the point, but I knew a lot. By 430am, the cramps were severe and I was feeling out of it. That was the point that I realized just how much I’d bled in the past hour or so - enough to soak through four double-folded towels, flannel PJs and two pads, while lying down.
When I made it into the bathroom again, there was an even larger clot and I threw out what I’d been wearing before. When I left the bathroom, I went to have a third of a smoke and upon putting it out, I got dizzy - I grabbed an old quilt to to lie down on but didn’t even make it to the bed before I got nauseas. Then I was convinced I was going to throw up.
Deciding like someone with hardcore experience drinking past the limit might that I would prolly feel better if I slept on the floor of the bathroom - cold tiles, toilet right there - I started to make my way back across 10 feet of the apartment. Within 5, I was seeing some spots. A few more steps and I was tripping a bit and holding the walls. I got sweaty and cold at the same time. By the time I was in the doorway of the bathroom and turned on the light, my vision was so screwed, I couldn’t see the light at all - pitch black. I didn’t faint, but I laid on the floor for about 15 minutes, just in case before going back to bed.
Waking up at 6am, JDawg was going to get ready for work. I asked him to stay home, knowing it was the worst day for him to do so - they’d been working 12 hour days and were expected to have a couple more before the work week ended. I told him I thought something was wrong and that I didn’t feel confident being home alone with Isobel. It took some prodding and maybe some guilt tripping. Then I stood up to go to the bathroom again, where another huge volume of blood was expelled. And when I stood up, he saw how covered the back of my pants and the quilt had become in an hour and a half. And he got a little scared.
I went to have a bit of a smoke and after stepping away from the window, had to prop myself on the floor because I’d become so light headed. He had to half carry me back to the bed. He called in sick to work and stayed awake, but I feel back asleep until about 9am, when Stargirl was on her way over to go for a walk with us. I told her I didn’t think I was up for it, but she brought me some coffee anyways and chatted for a bit and talked about her new kick-ass job and just generally cheered me up.
As soon as she left, I called the doctor’s office to find out what to do - told them I seemed to be bleeding pretty heavily and was feeling faint. They said to go to the ER if I soaked more than 2 pads in a half hour, but otherwise, come for a 2pm appointment.
It took some convincing, but I called ruler of all. Even though it meant her missing another nap, Isobel, JDawg and I were going to go to the appointment together. I was too scared to go alone, thinking of passing out on the way out of the taxi or something.
At about 11:30, they went out for a walk. Three minutes after they walked out of the door, I got up to go to the bathroom again. I barely made it out of bed before I felt dizzy and half way to the bathroom I was falling over. I knocked the phone off it’s ledge beside the bed, reaching for the walls to steady myself. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the hardwood floors, holding my elbow and ass while rocking back and forth. Both killed and at that point, I figured I’d just fallen really quickly. On the way back from the bathroom, I almost fell again, but luckily the bed broke my fall this time.
I swear, I laid on the bed for about five minutes before they came back from their walk. They’d been gone for at least 45 minutes, which meant I’d been lying on the floor for at least half an hour, unconscious.
When we got ready to go, JDawg had to pick out clothes for me. He had to help me to the bathroom where I got dressed on the toilet, losing at least another 3/4 cup of blood. When I was dressed, I had to lie down on the floor and he had to carry me back from the bathroom because I felt like I couldn’t move without fainting. That’s when I told him I’d fallen earlier.
He had to help Isobel go down the stairs, so the plan was for me to basically crawl down or scoot on my butt while he carried her. Then he’d sit me outside with a smoke and they’d go get my neighbour’s car seat and I’d call a taxi once we were reassembled. I didn’t make it down all of the stairs, myself and my breathing got really shallow. He had to leave Isobel in the lobby and carry me the last two flights.
He sat me against the flower beds, I lit one and I had about two drags before I felt like I was going to lose consciousness again. I remember saying or thinking that I didn’t think I could make it - into a taxi - and saying I’m sorry.
He says I went to lie on the ground and then was just unresponsive. He had to prob the door open, carry me inside from the ground, chase Isobel back from the street and then call an ambulance. He says my lips were blue and I wasn’t responding to anything he said. I couldn’t stay awake apparently and I was whiter than a sheet. He said they sent a fire truck and three ambulances.
I sort of remember Isobel being scared and me trying to hug her but not being strong enough to raise my arm.
The next thing I remember was hearing stats in the ambulance. I had an oxygen mask and they were saying that my blood pressure was maybe 80/59? I remember the 80. My heart rate was above 140. I remember telling them I’d soaked 12 pads in total since midnight. One guy asked if I was always so damn pale and I said yes, and then he asked if I was always so damn skinny and I said yes and kinda of laughed.
By the time I was in the ER, my blood pressure was higher and my heart rate still elevated, but more normal. But when they got me to sit up, my blood pressure nosedived and my heart rate doubled. I was made to lie down again, immediately with my legs elevated.
Throughout the day, I had a few blood tests to check my hemoglobin. I also had an ultrasound which felt weird because I could tell from the pressure of the scope (is that the right word?) where the clots were. I could tell the technician and gynecologist, “there’s one and you pressing there is causing another one, right here, to want to come out.” It was an incomplete miscarriage, they said, and a D & C was looking kind of important since the fundus hadn’t detached but I’d already lost a lot of blood.
We got the results of my blood tests, which the nurse explained to me. She figured that before, my hemoglobin was prolly around 140. Now, it was 80. She said most people felt a change with a 15 point drop and mine was four times that.
That’s when they talked about admitting me and I had to explain my reasoning for wanting to be home - that I felt insecure leaving JDawg with Isobel. They wanted to call social services and I opted to call some friends instead, leaving them messages explaining my situation and asking them to check in on my home.
By 530pm, I’d called JDawg and him and Isobel were going to come up. He’d called him mom and told her the situation and she was on her way over, but I told him to leave anyways and that I wanted to see Isobel. I’m not on speaking terms with his mom and she’s not welcome in my house and I especially didn’t want him to share anything this personal with her without telling me, so it was a big no-no for him to do that - something he was castrated for today, for two hours straight.
They came, I went to the bathroom, I seemed to be feeling better. We’d agreed that I’d get two units of blood and be sent home with some pills to induce a chemical miscarriage. They went for a special McDonalds (and I found out today, liquor store) run and went home. By 7pm, I was starting my first bag of blood. The trip to the bathroom and the offer by a nurse to take me for a smoke, coupled with half an hour of some other people’s hemoglobin made me think I was feeling better.
I was overconfident.
I had three puffs, sitting outside the ER entrance in a gown, sweater and wheelchair, then put it out. By the time I was back to my bed, I couldn’t take my sweater off by myself. I asked for some help and the new shift’s nurse came to help lift me. Which was when I passed out again.
More oxygen. More blood taken. More elevated feet and heart rate and declining blood pressure. It hit 74 over 55 at one point, apparently. And even after almost a full unit of blood, my hemoglobin had dropped further, to 76.
They were concerned. They didn’t want to let me go home. They were talking as if they wouldn’t let me if there wasn’t significant improvement after the next unit of blood. I made them wait about a half hour before drawing more blood again - letting all those donors’ blood party with mine for a bit. It came back as 91. Not great, but definitely better than it’d been.
They were still hemming and hawing when I again explained with seemingly never ending tears that I really needed to go home. I was bargaining. I’d come back tomorrow, I’d even get the D & C if they wanted me to, I just needed to go home, tonight.
They took my blood pressure, about 100/60. They made me sit up and retook it and it went up a bit, while my heart rate stayed about the same. They made me walk to the end of the hall and back and I didn’t get dizzy. I felt weak-muscled, but not faint. So they let me go.
I got home around 1am and dropped into bed. Today, I was supposed to start the pills, but I’m pretty scared that I’m going to have the same kind of blood loss, so since the bleeding’s letting up, I’m giving it a day or two, so that my hemoglobin can climb some more.
I spent most of the day lying down. I got up a few times and rarely felt dizzy, so around 5pm today, we went for a walk in the sun for a half hour. I had to sit twice because my heart was racing. But still, I didn’t feel very dizzy. My ass though, god that kills from where I must have hit the floor. And until I started taking some tylenol, the cramps were still pretty harsh.
So, I think the consensus is that I’ll wait until Sunday to take the pills. So JDawg is here, just in case, and to give my body a break for a couple days before I try to lose some more blood intentionally.
In all honestly, I now feel little sorrow or hurt over the loss of this pregnancy. I think the turning point was when the nurse told me that if it’d continued like that for another couple hours - the bleeding - I’d prolly not have been looking at such a great outcome. As it were, it’s easy to estimate that I lost over a litre of blood before the ambulance was even called.
Now, I’m not going to be too over dramatic, here. But let’s put it this way…
For me, it’s hard to feel sad, when JDawg’s just happy I’m alive. Cuz he thought I was dying. He’s never been so scared as the six minutes between me becoming unconscious and unresponsive and the ambulances arriving. Me? I’m just glad I didn’t know what was going on. Cuz that ground must have hurt, when I passed out.
Currently, I’m feeling a little wired and tired. I’ve got eight needled holes in one arm and two in the other. What I’m sure might be a chipped ass bone. I’m thirsty as all hell and not bleeding so much. I’m pretty content. I’ve also magically gotten my six packs back and am rocking some pretty sexy gyne panties.
Thus concludes my gross story of hemorrhaging during an incomplete miscarriage. If you made it all the way through, let me know, cuz I will commend you with some sort of hand-made prize. How about some pot holders?
