In honor of Leap Day some folks are blogging about the babies that didn't come -
My sign in for this blog is still the name that would've gone to the first-baby that wasn't. I think there is a part of me that misses meeting her more as time goes on. Back then everything was happening so fast that it was really very surreal. We got pregnant on the absolute first try - pretty amazing for an old guy like me & frozen swimmers and no meds or anything. So we were still just running along on the high of such an easy conception when we went in for our first (about 9 week) appointment at the OB's office.
I think Em was kinda aware that things could be less than great but I had no worries at all - I was so definitely pregnant - heavy & sore b@@bs, getting sick feelings, all the fun of early pg-ness. This is what I wrote close to the time about that day ...
...and we are all watching the little TV screen and I’m waiting to see something that’s supposed to look like a dancing gummy bear- but all I see is a lot of black – no gummy bear at all. And at this point E is really quiet, and the doctor is moving the probe around and its starting to sink in to me that something is probably pretty wrong here. The NP says something about it not looking right & being really sorry and I am just going ka-ching shut everything down. She wants us to go across the street and get another scan on the super machine to confirm that there’s nobody there – but it’s pretty clear that the pregnancy hasn’t progressed (for awhile). I think that e. was crying – I don’t really remember. I was paying attention to the NP’s manner more than the actual words that she said. She left us alone & I got dressed & e. was freaked, and they sent us across the street. The fancy ultrasound lady was great – she was business-like without any of the fake I’m sorry stuff. Her brusque manner made me feel safer than a soft sympathy manner would have. She confirmed that there isn’t a baby & there hasn’t been for awhile – probably since about the 6th week – I think that it never got a heart beat.We left there and went home & to bed. The doctor’s office called later & said that if I don’t miscarry in the next week I will need to schedule a D&C. I didn’t sign on for this.
So that was on June 22, 2005 - the Wed before Queer Pride Weekend. I spent most of PRIDE 05 telling every lesbian in San Francisco that I wasn't "with child" anymore & walking around the Dyke March - which is usually so fun & revigorating for my soul... knowing that I had a body that thought I was pregnant even though I wasn't & that my almost baby was dead but my body didn't know it yet somehow.
Before this I always thought of losing a pregnancy as something that started with cramping & bleeding & not looking at a tv screen - I didn't know that my body could stay pregnant even if the fetus wasn't still developing in there -- I felt betrayed by my body which is something I don't usually feel.
I didn't "mis-carry" on my own over the next days so I basically had to have a dead baby ab*rti*n which was pretty much one of the crappiest things I've had to do -- I will be forever thankfull to Jean & to Kathy B. and to my therapist who were all so sweet & did both big & little things to take care of me that day.
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