Sad Friday (not for the squeamish - you are being warned.)

When we found out we were pregnant, we panicked the first day, but were on cloud 9 the next. We were picking names, too. Sarah Danielle was a name I had picked out a very long time ago. We changed it to Sarah Michelle because someone in the extended family already had used "Danielle." So now it got changed to "Sarah Michelle" for a girl, and "Jacob" for a boy (We were still working on a middle name.).

Going through online catalogs, fantasizing, and hearing congratulations from friends and family just made the whole thing too -- hey, we started dreaming. DREAMING. My husband was finally going to experience fatherhood at age 38. He got my kids when they were school-age, and he loves them as his own, but he's never held his newborn, never named a child, or never had his finger squeezed by a tiny little hand.

At about 14 weeks, I ended up spotting and having tiny little pieces of blood-clots and I freaked out. My sister-in-law assured me it was no big deal -she had bleed lots during her pregnancy. Other people and the internet assured me the same -- I felt foolish. But now I know that I know my own body and should of listened to my own instinct. I have had three babies and I never saw one tiny drop of blood.

I can't believe I am typing all of this out -- but God knows I need an outlet.

Well, almost a week later, I am going to work and I get this weird cramping on the way. My husband was driving me and dropping me off, but I told him, "Wait in the truck -- I think I need to go to hospital."
I ran inside to tell my supervisor, and she thought I was nuts for even coming inside to tell her -- she said, "Go, go, go, go!"

I immediately got back in the truck and I felt like this glop passed down, and I felt the gushing.
When we got to the ER, they had to put towels on the wheelchair, because I was bleeding through my pants. But this was just the beginning of the nightmare.

I didn't know there would be so much blood. I am not queasy about blood, but God there was a lot. I was told to change into a gown, and when I dropped my pants and underwear, I just saw I was so drenched and this giant glop (blood-clot) about the size of an apple just laid there. The person who cleaned up after me just rolled up the clothes (glop and all) and shoved them into a bag. They came with a mop to clean up the floor -- I just dripped so bad, blood running down my legs -- it wouldn't stop. There was way more to come, and my husband never left my side.

I laughed when the nursing-assistant handed me a little kotex. The RN nurse must of known why because she just called for towels. They used a big towel as a giant kotex, and they had to change it several times. No one told me it was going to be so bloody.

Dr. Somebody ordered an ultrasound. The tech drove me nuts. She said she was leaving me towels and she left me in the bathroom so I could "clean up." What was the matter with them? I just stood there, holding on, trying to wipe my thighs and crotch but it just kept pouring out so bad. I was dripping everywhere, and trying to clean up after myself. I would throw wet paper towels on the floor, but the mess just seemed to spread. I was in tears and so frustrated! I called to her and she just called housekeeping when she saw the "murder-scene." She later told me "Don't worry about it, it happens." Well, after much very painful prodding (sticking this thing in my vagina to get pictures), they finally returned me to the ER room.

Hours passed and me and my husband were moved to another ER room that had child-wallpaper on it. Sierra Providence has this little room for pediatric cases and baby giraffes and elephants line the borders in the room. What the hell were they thinking to put me in there?

At one point (few hours later), George couldn't take seeing my pain anylonger because he'd see me push my feet up against the wall to hold up against the contractions (no, not cramps, but very strong contractions). Oh, wonderful ..... going through "labor."
The nurse gave me this wonderful drug and assisted me to the shower. (Which I thought was really foolish of her to not shower me first, then drug me up??) I loved her for her kindness though -- being in that sad room, neglected by my first nurse really sucked.

The shower was weird. When I stood up I felt the pooling in my body ready to let go. More giant blood clots (I thought I had dropped my liver or some organ) just would hit the floor. I digged through them when the nurse left momentarily. I don't know but I wanted the fetus if I found it -- I know hospitals throw them away. Sounds weird, sick and morbid, but I was not in my normal state of mind. What a bloody trail I left everywhere. The inside of my legs were painted red. But at least the blood was fresh, not like feeling gross with blood from three hours ago in that little baby-giraffe room.

Doc came and was so surprised that after pushing out so much gunk, that I still had more in my uterus. The anasthesiologist was going to come in to talk to me.

Away to the O.R. (operating room) for my D.N.C (Scraping of the uterus walls to get every last bit out.)

I ended getting an epidural. Not the kind I received during labor, but I guess a very high dose epidural because I couldn't feel my legs at all. My lower-half of my body didn't exist. And the whole time I kept wondering where the baby was. They called it "tissue."

It was over quickly, but the recovery room was very long time. Then I finally got to see my husband when they took me to the outpatient-recovery room. I was trying to wake up my dead legs and they brought me a cold coke. That cold coke was like from heaven. The warm-heated blankets were from heaven. I was so stoned from the pain-drugs they kept giving me. I mean, they gave me these drugs that made me feel so good. Maybe they give miscarrying mothers these drugs so they don't cry and fall apart. I now know why people do narcotics. Weed is nothing like this (only drug I have ever tried). I was feeling such calm and pleasure.

I called my momma and we cried on the phone together. She said she cried because she felt this sadness for George. She cried because she knew i had been through so much. God, I love my momma. She has this way of always making me feel better. She heals me with her words.

That night and the next day, I had cramping and wore a kotex. Nothing that heavy though, like a light menstral day. I am determined to be strong. But stupid things break me. I don't know why this certain relative we have is so heartless. My husband texts him and says, "sorry I can't go to the party, my wife and I are getting through this hard time." This mean-hearted relative replies with innaproppriate joking and can't understand why my husband didn't think it's funny. I see my husband get so sad.

I wanted to get drunk tonight, but I couldn't. I drank about 3 oz of rum and 9 oz of eggnog liquor and then got a headache. I wanted that happy-pain medication I had the night before.

My husband fell asleep early and I stayed up bitching out that mean-relative via text message.

I felt sad because my biological father never had any interest in his own grandchildren. Never once took them out for an ice cream or asked them to spend the night. I'm not even sure if he even knows their names and ages. Why the hell am I even thinking about this? I just feel so weird.

I just got all this sadness pouring out of me. It didn't hit me so bad last night. I had that feel-good-drug in my system, I guess. I want more. :(