No News = Not the Worst News

Work sucked today. I went in early because I knew I’d lose time during the middle of the day due to my ultrasound. I checked in on time—no small feat—and was informed they were running 20 minutes behind. Waiting, waiting, running my battery down in the dungeon that is the radiology waiting room.

This girl was worth the wait. I love people who are forthcoming rather than distant—I feel like I can trust them more. She brought me into the ultrasound suite and casually asked for my version of why I was here today. The official consult request merely stated “OB ultrasound for viability.” I began to tell her and she looked at me strangely—“You know a lot of medical stuff.” I laughed, and responded that I’m a nurse, though I think many of my non-nurse friends know just as much, if not more, about their specific niche of baby-barriers.

It opened the door though. She mentioned she wasn’t supposed to be telling me as much as she was, and emphatically thanked her for being so open. My greatest fear all morning was being stuck with an uptight tech who wouldn’t tell me anything; some techs would hardly ever let me see the screen because these are “medical procedures,” not for fun. I completely get it—techs are under the gag order for a reason, but it ruins it for the rest of us.

Unofficially, there is no ectopic pregnancy. The relief is ENORMOUS. I don’t have to tread carefully, worrying unnecessarily about rupturing a tube. I still haven’t heard from the radiologist or my ob/gyn, who was off work today after working in L&D overnight, but I also know that no news is… not the worst news. If the ultrasound tech and my nosy self somehow missed an ectopic, I’m sure I would’ve actually received a phone call from someone with instructions.

Between demanding work and my immediate relief at not having an ectopic pregnancy, I know I haven’t fully dealt with the fact that I should be miscarrying this weekend. My ob/gyn should be back at work on Wednesday, so I’ll likely receive instructions then. Having read Mona Darling’s misoprostol (Cytotec) experience, I now want to also ask for pain medication. As someone now going through this, I really appreciate full accounts of what I can expect, and Mona even made me laugh.

When we went grocery shopping yesterday, I bought 3 dark chocolate bars—“for my miscarriage next weekend,” I told DH. I envision myself cycling between the bed and the toilet in agony, but what’s even worse than that? Sticking the misoprostol up my hoo-hah and NOT miscarrying over the weekend. Mondays are always so hard already.

I hope to update you soon with some variation of my congratulations-you’re-only-having-a-miscarriage! official email.


It’s all bad.

DH and I both had ominous feelings yesterday, which we did not share with each other until afterward. Yes, I had symptoms, but I had already heard of women with blighted ova who had completely normal first trimesters symptoms-wise, only to find out later they’d had what’s called an anembryonic pregnancy. The sac forms and grows as expected, but there is no fetal pole, no yolk sac, no beating heart.

18 or 19 days post ovulation with a blighted ovum
18 or 19 days post ovulation with a blighted ovum

Let me back up.

My HPTs darkened as one would expect, almost on par with my twin cycle BFPs. Surely this had to be good. I kept wondering are you going to be my take-home baby? But I wasn’t convinced, and spent the whole time detached from it.

We scheduled the early scan—just to rule out multiples. I didn’t feel hyperstimulated when I ovulated, but I just needed the reassurance I was having a singleton. At 5w2d, we saw a completely empty sac measuring 5w. I was seeing a different ob/gyn because mine was booked that day. I just remember he kept saying, “It looks a little small, is that okay?” and repeating “is that okay?” at irritating intervals. Fuck if I know, you ARE the doctor. I do remember saying numbly, “All I need is a miscarriage right now.” We left shaken, and some people on Twitter temporarily reassured me that they had empty sacs at their first scans which wound up with strong heartbeats later. I let myself be carried away, mostly.

Fridays really are the best days for ultrasounds, to celebrate your good news or to wallow through the weekend drowning in booze.

I threw myself into work. I couldn’t let myself dwell on the ultrasound. I got home in time to pick up DH. I had to pee, so we drove to the appointment a few minutes early. I accepted my urine sample cup and went to the same bathroom I used my entire twin pregnancy. I washed my hands with a sense of unreality. This wasn’t happening. I silently told my mirror self I had to stop worrying and just tell myself it would be okay, because there would be plenty of time to grieve afterward if it wasn’t.

Next door to my exam room was another couple having an ultrasound. My doctor was late, but she often is, and she’s worth the wait. She finally came in and we made small talk while she told staff to fetch DH. She looked at me intensely, as if she was seeing through me to my twins, and I swallowed hard.

“Are you nervous?”
“Yes, I am” because I’m concerned this isn’t viable, I didn’t finish.
“That’s normal” after a loss, she didn’t finish.

DH arrived, so we could finally begin. I could tell immediately. “It’s empty,” I said flatly. She pursed her lips and continued looking, unwilling to admit it at first. At our 6w6d scan with the twins, their sacs and heartbeats were immediately apparent, vibrant with life. It was clear there was no life inside me this time. I said blighted ovum before she could. I felt an immediate desire to be rid of it, this alien growth inside me, making me tired and nauseous and lying to me. I was of the mindset of taking misoprostol (Cytotec) right then and there—can we get this show on the road? But she couldn’t in good conscience, because she wanted to completely rule out the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy.

Super… way to compound my fears. Very early on, I’d felt consistent right-sided pressure. I consoled myself with the thought that I probably ovulated from my temperamental right ovary, and the nagging was from the corpus luteum cyst. Then, as my uterus expanded, I felt the typical right-sided round ligament pains. See, normal! I told myself. Now I’m paranoid. “I want you to know I don’t think you have an ectopic pregnancy,” she said. Too late, now I’m worried. I mean, of course I hope I don’t. A blighted ovum should be a walk in the park by comparison, right? But the uncertainty is maddening.

She managed to convince me momentarily to do a D&C with her, until we found out she’s booked solid next week. She tried to convince me to book a D&C with Dr. Is-That-Okay from my 5-week ultrasound and I flatly refused. The compromise is this: if I pass my high-resolution ultrasound on Tuesday morning, she’ll give me misoprostol. I’d probably take it Thursday night, giving myself a three-day weekend to hopefully miscarry. You know, because miscarriages are, like, SO inconvenient.

So for now I’m still pregnant. Remember how I said I hate pregnancy? I didn’t think it was possible to hate it more. Last night I began my wallow with pizza and beer, my go-to fuck-it-all meal. I wouldn’t normally encourage you to drink while pregnant, ladies, unless you’ve been green-lighted like me. I wanted to get good and drunk, but I only had two beers and gave up because I was just. so. tired.

Today, Saturday, two weeks after I had a good wallow on my twins’ due date, I feel like I’m in an alternate reality again. I will pick myself back up again, but today I feel like I will never have children. Feeling cursed.

In the exam room, after the ob/gyn stepped out to allow me to put pants back on, DH and I agreed this is nothing compared to losing the twins. I wasn’t emotionally connected to this non-baby. I am under instructions to go into the emergency department for any bleeding or pain, so I feel a bit paralyzed. I don’t feel like working out because I’m somehow paranoid I’ll rupture a tube while lifting weights. I hate limbo.

Day 5: Mantras & Quotes

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.My next ultrasound is one week from today, when we will see a heartbeat (or not). I am choosing to believe that things will be okay so I don’t continue to worry myself sick. I have to save my worrying for the second trimester!


Details of this 30 day blogging challenge available at I Love You Potato.

Lately my number one personal mantra is “…because fuck you.” I’m going to [insert anything] and not give a shit—when previously I might have given a shit—because stupid things pale in comparison to losing the twins. It grounds me when I start to worry what someone else is going to think about how I look or act. There is much bigger shit to concern myself with than what other people think of me. It doesn’t have to make sense… because fuck you. See how nicely that works?

I’m not only snarky though.

There are SO MANY quotes to pick from that have inspired me, but I think Gibran’s are my favorite. Fun fact: his real name is Khalil, not Kahlil.


Remembering my twins. Ignore the distracting fonts and hear the message. ♥♥

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you will see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your joy.

Days 1 & 2: 7 Things, Rituals & Superstitions

Catching up!  This 30 day blogging challenge details available at I Love You Potato.

September 1:  7 Things

But I don’t want you to know me too well!  What about my precious anonymity?  Okay, let’s go for some general info.

  1. a ClearBlue f*** youI’m not technically infertile.  I have had numerous chemical pregnancies, but they all qualify as “preclinical losses” and therefore don’t really qualify as repetitive pregnancy loss.  When I took medical genetics in college, I was told 75% of the time when sperm and egg meet, a loss occurs, but no one ever finds out about it… unless they’re POAS addicts like me and test a day after implantation.
  2. That being said, I am no stranger to infertility. For every one of the blissfully naïve people I want to strangle, I know another in real life who does not have a baby due to PCOS or unexplained repetitive pregnancy loss.
  3. I am a child of infertility. I was conceived via IUI with donor sperm.
  4. I have a cat and two dogs. I feel like a house isn’t a home without pets.
  5. I like to lift heavy things.
  6. I thrive in clutter. This drives some people crazy.
  7. I am a dark chocolate connoisseur. It’s kind of a problem.


*fingers crossed*

September 2:  Rituals & Superstitions

I believe that if I prepare for a certain bad situation, it won’t happen.  The one thing I was sure wouldn’t happen to me (besides conceiving twins in the first place) was horrifically early preterm labor.  The day I went into preterm labor, and even at the hospital waiting to be evaluated in triage in labor and delivery, I wholeheartedly believed I was fine and I’d go home.  Stupid.  I won’t make that mistake again.

In terms of rituals… I plan to go to a different site for my anatomy and growth scan(s).  I will likely have to go to the original ultrasound office for my first dating ultrasound, but thereafter I want to avoid that site.  I want to avoid the place that told me everything was fine a week before everything changed.