The Day After

In the wake of our loss, we spent the evening veggin' on the couch with a few movies. Having gotten a call from the nurse, we had an appointment set the following afternoon with the doctor to discuss our options concerning the miscarriage.

The Day After started with phone calls from family to check on us. I made it through the call first thing in the morning from my mom okay . The second phone call from my sister later on was a different story. By then I was feeling nauseous and beginnning to greive. Combine the feeling of morning sickness with the knowledge that there isn't really a reason to be feeling this way, my emotions got the best of me, allowing me to cry the first and basically last tears of the day.

Dropping the kids off at their Aunt's house, Terry and I made our way to the doctor's appointment, not really knowing what to expect. Aside from the nearly 2 hours in the waiting room surround by a few expectant moms, which I was okay with, the visit was pretty well routine. We were given 2 options, a D and C to go ahead and remove the fetus, or Expectant Management, a wait and see approach. Since this was my first miscarriage and I hadn't been through any major surgery before, we chose Expectant Management. Weekly blood draws would be done to monitor my falling hcG levels, which when low enough should cause my body to expel the no longer living baby. The first of many blood draws would begin on January 9,2008, bringing our total to 5 vials of drawn blood.

Leaving the doctor's office a little after 5, Terry and I stopped for dinner, a nice semi-romantic setting that allowed us to start healing together. We had each been battling against our internal emotions and dinner without kids was going to give us a nice time to relax, and it was good. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I wasn't going to be expecting like I had planned and instead did my best to focus on the two children I already had. Seated directly behind us, a couple was discussing what sounded like their new addition to the family. Placed there by God, the couple was talking over what they knew about their new baby, specifically the weight that means so much to both, mother, grandmother, and reproductive females alike. I heard 5 pounds 14 ounces. Not much when you think about it, but it was exactly what my son weighted when he was born. Hearing this Terry and I each had tears in our eyes as we finished eating, a gentle reminder of what we had lost, but also a reminder of what we had waiting for us when we got home.