I couldn't figure out why the whole time I was composing my blog post.

Monday night I had a miscarriage.

Are you shocked I am writing this on my blog? I am, a little, but I keep feeling like it should be okay to talk about, and it doesn't make me any less of a woman or mother. I think I am still in shock and the grieving process is just beginning, but I keep thinking that this is something I don't want to be a secret, but I also would only like to have to tell it once instead of over and over. I don't want or need pity, I just really feel like this is something that happens to most women, but most women don't know that it does. I know that all of you will be a good support, and it will be good for me to feel like I'm not the only one thinking about it. I've been able to recognize blessings, which have been plentiful, and all because we weren't trying to do this alone, and because my friends in the building are amazingly selfless and ready to help at a moment's notice (even if it is past midnight.)

I was eight weeks pregnant. We were pretty darn excited. (Its funny that I didn't post anything on the blog because I didn't want to be required to post about this aspect of things if it happened, and here I am.) For the last eight or nine months I have been having a hard time having charitable thoughts towards people who get pregnant but can't provide the kind of family that we could, that Spears girl really ticked me off. And, I was jealous of every pregnant girl who could provide a good family for that new baby. Although I already knew I was pregnant, I was offended at every april fools blog post that joked about being pregnant. I also know that a lot of people would think we were crazy for even wishing that we could add to our family in our current situation, but, that is a different topic, one probably not suitable in this forum.

Saturday was a hard day, Justin left in the morning to set up chairs for Stake Conference, then had a casting thing for school, came home to eat and left for the Leadership meeting. I had a headache all day, and even though I made a cake and had fun doing it, I wasn't in a very good mood. Reuben and I took a nap, and had to rush to get to Stake Conference on time, and I didn't have time to eat dinner. I had to run up the subway stairs carrying the stroller to catch the train that would get me there one time, so I spent the rest of the night being light headed from the extra exertion, and then 10 PM I started spotting. I was only mildly concerned. I got a blessing and that was a huge comfort, but I was not confident that it applied to the immediate situation.

Sunday I stayed home from stake conference and stayed in bed, trying to "take-it-easy." Which for the most part I did, but the spotting got darker.

Monday I had a doctor's appointment scheduled. It was supposed to be that exciting one where you hear the heart beat and the pregnancy becomes real, instead they tried to be hopeful saying "you might have your dates wrong, come back in two weeks." But I knew it was only a matter of time, because I had my dates right. I tried to have hope, but just couldn't find it. They told me to rest and take it easy so as to not force anything. Which I did after I got home from the appointment part of the day... I didn't run, but you know our mode of transportation.

I was just beginning to not think about it all the time. Justin and I were reading some blog posts about being on the set of Twilight, and I laughed, and that's when the first clot passed (11:07 PM). And then it was like I just opened up and everything was coming out all at once. It was a little frightening, so we started to make plans to go to the ER. We called the doctor, and made sure that my gut feeling was right.

We woke up our dear neighbors (who had just returned from a trip to CO) to see if they could take Reuben for the night. They kindly offered us a ride to the hospital. It was a huge tender mercy and I will be forever grateful that I didn't have to worry in a taxi, or be worked up by another ambulance ride. We got to the ER around 1 AM. No one really understood how much blood I was loosing. Just while they were trying to get me registered there were three people they turned away because they were drug seeking and didn't have a real emergency, and one very very drunk man they were trying to take care of. I didn't blame them for being skeptical, but it would have been nice for them to be sympathetic once they found out I was having a real problem.

They brought me to a room, and I thought it was pretty funny that they asked for a urine sample and gave me a wipe. They didn't put any kind of pad on the bed so I used the towel I had gotten there with. A doctor came in who finally showed some concern about my situation she was very sympathetic, after she asked if this was a pregnancy we were excited about. I had my second pelvic exam of the day, and another sonogram, this time they didn't see an empty sack, just what they called a stripe. They told me I would need to go to labor and delivery so an OB GYN could see me. A wonderful sweet nurse took more blood, from my elbow pit this time, and only one poke, that was another tender mercy, and used the same needle to hook me up to an IV. I am so glad that she was friendly and kind, because that place wasn't spilling over with people willing to try to make you as comfortable as possible. I waited for what seemed to be forever, all the while being grossed out by the feeling of large clots on their way out.

I got up to the triage room for L&D, and the nurses seemed upset that I was there, and even more upset that the busy ER didn't fill something out correctly. It was everything I could do just to be quiet and let them have their little hissy fit while they delayed helping me. I was pretty close to asking them to worry about talking to supervisors after I was assured I was safe and I didn't feel like I was going to pass out. This probably wasn't as horrible as I think it was, but they didn't know how much blood I was losing.

I finally got a bed in a huge room with just curtains, and thought that maybe I don't want to have a baby in New York if that was were I was going to have to labor and deliver. While I waited the other woman in the room cried into a cellphone in Spanish, and I was sad that I understood it well enough to know that she didn't want to have the baby. And Justin understood even more, (she didn't want to have it because it was "his"). I thought to myself, they shouldn't make miscarrying women come to the Labor and Delivery room. I had my third pelvic exam of the day, and my third ultrasound. They called it a missed abortion, I think, I was really really light headed and having a hard time understanding them. They said it is natural, and happens to most women. It was natures way of preventing abnormalities. They gave me two options, a D&C or taking pills to make me cramp and pass large clots at home. I didn't think my heeby geebies could handle more clot passing, so I opted for the surgery. But because I was not laboring or delivering I had to go down to the ER to wait for the OR. They wheeled me out to the triage area again, where again I had the pleasant experience of thinking they shouldn't send miscarrying women to labor and delivery. A happy couple with a new baby were waiting to be moved in the same area as we were. The man, being friendly asked how we were doing, and I just said, we've been better. And I said "Congratulations" and he said, "Congratulations to you too." How was he to know what was going on, and I was in labor and delivery.

We went back down to the ER, to the same room that had not been cleaned up. The nurse's assistant told Justin to change the sheet and he left. Justin found extra sheets in a cabinet and also found a pad, and I lay back down. After a while a nurse came in and said, "I'm here to take care of you" and she started taking out my IV. I wasn't sure what was going on, and it happened so fast, and you have to remember that I was seeing spots, and was having a really hard time thinking straight. She said, okay you can get dressed and go home, and I said, but I'm supposed to go to the OR, and she said, "why didn't you stop me?" she left for a little bit and came back to put the IV back in. (Once again, one poke.) After a while I got back into the wheel chair and we headed to the 4th floor. The guy wheeled me into a dark large room with one person in a bed and a nurse sitting at a desk. The nurse said, "can I help you?" and I said, "I'm here for a D&C," and the nurse said, "you need to go to the OR this is recovery." Like I was in charge of where I was going.

I finally got up to the OR, and things went a little better from there. The nurses were really helpful and trying to make sure I was comfortable. The doctor showed some urgency and a desire to get me taken care of. The ER had done some blood tests but the results weren't recorded yet, so the doctor was very forceful on the phone and said they had five minutes. They took my bed to the room, and it was just like a movie, a big bright light, and people in hats and masks. I transferred to the operating table, and they were strapping my arms to some boards, and I heard the anesthesiologist ask how long I needed to be out, then the phone rang, she's AB Positive...and then I was in the recovery room.

The nurse in the recovery room was STILL MEAN, and it wasn't even just that I was waking up and thought she was mean. She must have been having a really really horrible night, at least that was what I was trying to tell myself so I wouldn't have hateful thoughts towards her. There was one other nurse who the mean nurse was yelling orders at. I had a really tight chest, and was breathing shallowly, and I guess the thing monitoring me started beeping, and she yelled to the room, while sitting behind the desk "Take a deep breath!" and I was like, is she talking to me, is that my thing beeping? and she yelled again "Take a deep breath!" So I took a couple, and the beeping stopped. This happened a couple of times. Justin was there holding my hand, and I was so glad I didn't have to face her alone. She then kicked him out when there was going to be a shift change. And I found out even more how crazy mean she was, and a little bit more about why she was so crabby. Then those nurses did something a little questionable, and the mean nurse did some more mean stuff, but to the other recovering patient.

Then I was finally moved to the next room, and boy was I glad. I got to eat, and Justin was there with me again, and then I got to go home.

Reuben stayed with Joanne and Justin and I slept. I woke up before Justin did and was getting really lonely, and my mom called. When Justin woke up things were getting better. Rebecca dropped off some dinner, and we went to go pick up Reuben, because I missed him. Joanne also dropped of some dinner, so we are covered for tonight too. Justin took yesterday and today off so we can spend some time together.

I am very aware of all of the blessings that we have received through this which is a huge thing for me who usually can't see the good when hard things are happening. I am thankful for the priesthood, and for the comfort of not doing this alone. I am thankful for Reuben and Justin. I am thankful for those nice nurses, and I hope those mean ones have a better day soon. As far as miscarriages go I am very lucky. I know I've had a healthy pregnancy and I'm not taking this as a threat of things to come. I didn't have to do it alone, and I didn't have a horrible doctor, and I only had two weeks of getting excited about the next baby. And I have a baby shower to go to that I can use as motivation to finish the baby booties I was almost done with. I'll see how things go as I process this whole experience. As of right now I'm doing fine other than the headache that I can't seem to get rid of.