Expect to Wait

You have two options. You can wait for it to pass on its own. It is so small the size of a snow pea that it will probably come quickly or I can schedule the D and C procedure as early as Monday. What are you thinking?

I'm thinking I have no idea what it will be like to pass it on my own and the prospect frightens me. By D and C you mean Dilation and Curettage, I cannot even fathom the idea right now.

I think I will wait.

I leave her office with nothing but a pile of crumpled tissues and her words knocking around in my head, no hand-out detailing what to expect, no comforting anecdotes from women in my shoes who can hold my hand out the door.

On Saturday nothing comes. I pace the hallways. In the rain I walk the neighborhood.

Please go little spirit. Please go now.

Under an archway I call my friend's sister who is a midwife,
Is there something natural, I can take to get this going?

I drink a uterine stimulant, a small dose of both blue cohosh and black cohosh, a mixture that she tells me many Native Americans have used to induce labor.

You will feel contractions, you feel lower back pain, you feel cramping, you feel your heart racing with adrenaline.

By evening I welcome the contractions knowing that they signal the beginnings of the passing and after an hour I am strangley relieved to feel the bleeding. I tell myself I think it is gone now.

Today at my ultrasound I'm face to face with the same woman who broke the news to me just five days ago. She has more of the same to share.

I'm so sorry honey it has not passed yet.

The empty gelatinous sac up on the screen is as big as it was five days ago.

It is elongated now though which means it is getting ready, she adds quickly rushing to hand me kleenex.

I wanted so much for my body to do this on her own so I could have the last goodbye in privacy. I somehow assumed there would be this terrible grand finale but that it would be over quickly.
I naively assumed it would take hours not days.

I didn't expect the waiting.

While I wait to speak to the nurse, I write a list of the symptoms I wish I had been prepared for, A Girlfriends Guide to Miscarriage if you will:

expect the drastic drop in hormones to render you crazy, nauseous, unpredictable, expect cramping three times worse than the kind you get during your period, expect lower back pain that grinds on your nerves, expect to feel light headed, expect headaches, expect to feel anxious, expect to feel amped up one minute and then emotionless the next, expect uncontrollable tears, expect insomnia, expect to feel the same exhaustion of pregnancy, expect to lose your appetite, expect to feel inconsolable, expect to hear friends tell you its happened to them, expect to feel that this is no consolation, expect to feel angry, expect to feel relieved that nature took its course, expect to feel loved, expect to feel blessed by the people who call you day after day, who bring you warm soup, homemade bread, who offer to take your child while you go to breakfast with your husband, who cancel their trip to stay by your side.
Expect to realize that life goes on.
Expect to wait.