At 10am, I went to Walgreen’s to pick up the prescription for Misoprotol to induce miscarriage. Can you believe the fucker behind the counter asked if I was pregnant? Yes, I said, I lost my baby, that’s what this is for. Let me please explain to YOU how this drug works. And please, ask me at the counter while others are in line behind me, keep it classy why don’t you.
For those not familiar, Misoprotol is 4 pills you insert in the same way you’d do a suppository, and you wait for all hell to break loose in your body. A good portion of the time it works, and while it sounds odd, I’m actually glad I read a bit last night on what some experiences have been like – that a) they’re all different, from not terrible to horrendous, b) got an understanding of how quickly things can kick off in your body, and c) how valuable it is to have those painkillers and heating pad on hand.
At 10:15 I sobbed in the bathroom as I opened up the pill bottle. I am owning this miscarriage rather than waiting for it to happen to me. That’s not something I ever thought I’d do. As I’ve always been sensitive to meds, within 15 minutes I could feel myself getting a bit dizzy and popped my first vicodin and valium, and turned on the heating pad for my lower back and belly, which I’ve been alternating ever since.
And as many stated on their blogs, within two hours, around noon-ish the cramping began. Initially it was similar to minor menstrual cramps (not something I have much experience with, as my periods in the past manifested themselves more in killer mood swings than internal strife), with the exception of not feeling comfortable walking all that much. Kind of like after getting my appendix out and not being able to stand up straight post-surgery, it’s more of a hobble. Again, I have limited experience so my descriptions are what they are. I coughed and it hurt so bad it made me cry out. My water consumption has been insane – no matter how much I drink my throat stays dry.
It is 7:00pm now and for the past 2 or 3 hours the cramps have very much amped up. I am focusing on my breath, on what I’ll just call a gutteral moan of sorts while my uterus contracts, and about every 5-10 minutes I get up to use the restroom. I’m listening to my body, not trying to force anything, and just reminding myself that – again, as I learned from another blogger – that these are similar (albeit to a much smaller degree) to labor pains, with my uterus simply trying to expel its contents. And crazy me, I said to myself, well, maybe this is good practice for a real baby next time around. Maybe this is my hands-on instruction in mind over matter and all the stuff I had only just began to read about in the pregnancy books. I refuse to let myself tense up any more than I can help it. So for me that means no tears, and looking at myself in the mirror and reminding myself: You Are Strong. You Are Clearing the Way for Your Real Baby. You Can DO this, Aimee.
But it is hard. It is painful. It is fucking painful. I won’t deny that. It puts me into a haze of sorts where I can’t focus too heavily on anything, where loud noises hurt, where my only focus is moving through this miscarriage. And with my mom out of town and my husband at work, I have done the past 5 hours solo, with Ruby asleep in her bed and Netflix on the screen. Looking after me is not the kind of thing I can ask just anyone to do, not after what we’ve been through. So finally I gave in and called my husband, and he’s biking home as we speak. While I could do it, I don’t want to look back and remember this as something I did by myself.