Learning the Ropes

I am new to this blogging thing.

I stumbled across a blog or two and now eagerly read several infertility blog postings and comments. Particularly since my husband and I are about to start our first FET cycle. I look to these women for insight.

I have seen hope, fear, disappointment and fortitude among these women. For crying out loud, they stick themselves with needles every day! They pray, they plead, they stand resolute. They walk silently among the swollen pregnant bellies that seem to be everywhere in the grocery stores, shopping malls, banks and restaurants.

In spring 2007 I became pregnant the old fashioned way. I did not tell anyone at work because I wanted to wait until after my first doctor's appointment, which was to be at 10 weeks. I was 6 weeks, so I had a few weeks to wait. That Saturday, there was a company picnic. I attended and had a fine time. The next day (Sunday) I drove my husband to the airport. He was to be gone that next week on business.

Sunday night, around 10 pm, I turned off the lights and TV and went to use the restroom before going to bed. I was bleeding. I was alone. I called the after-hours medical number for an advice nurse. She was very kind, asked several questions and made an appointment for the next morning (Monday) for me to be seen. I called my husband and he was able to get a morning flight home.

Alone that night, I bled and cramped. I knew what was happening.

The next day, early, I called in sick to work. My gyn performed a vaginal ultrasound. She said, very matter-of-factly, "You are definitely NOT 6 weeks. The sac is empty, so if anything you are 4 weeks or you are miscarrying." I was miscarrying. I continued to bleed heavily for the next several days. My baby was gone.

Not wanting anyone at work to be suspicious, I returned to the office and worked a full day Tuesday. A co-worker joked about my "taking an extra long weekend" -- seeing as I looked to be just fine on Saturday at the picnic. I was quietly crushed. Okay, he didn't know. He couldn't know. I could have said something. I didn't think it was anyone's business. But I was crushed.

I wanted to scream, "No! It wasn't a long weekend. It wasn't fun and games. I was having a miscarriage, okay?! I was alone all night, bleeding my baby out of my body while my husband was away and couldn't be with me, okay?!"

I said nothing. I worked.

This is the silent wail of the infertile. That day my voice joined theirs.

The song of sorrow.