Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Wednesday, Jul. 25, 2007 - 11:26 p.m.

So, I had an appointment with my ob-gyn today.

She doesn't think I'm perimenopausal. Yay.

She does think I had a miscarriage.

Not so much with the yay-ing.

I had to take a few minutes on that one. It was really like a slap in the face. I just blinked for a second while my brain sort of numbly went "oh," then the next thing I knew, my eyes were flooding, and I had to turn to the wall. I held my palm out at her while she was still talking and said, "I'm gonna need a second to deal with that," and I started crying.

She explained how when that happens, it's usually because the fetus was not developing properly, and that's nature's way of dealing with it, and it's really much better happening sooner than later, which I really can't dispute, but that was still really hard to hear. She feels that the fact that I was 3 weeks late, coupled with the wildly swinging hormones, the level of pain I had for that 8 hours, and the extremely heavy flow led her to believe it had been pregnancy. Given the other factors in my life and a few other things I'm not going to get into here, she does not believe I'm in perimenopause. And I myself wondered if I was pregnant when I was running so late. I've never run 3 full weeks late before and have only been 2 weeks late 2 or 3 times in my entire life. My belly felt different (I can't describe it), my breasts were - as I mentioned - painful, and then when I finally started, there were a LOT of clots. Like, to the point that I was like, what the hell was up there? I could go into more gory and graphic detail, but I won't. Suffice to say I do not in any way doubt her theory, and I feel a profound sense of loss.

I also find it supremely ironic that while I was having a phone conversation with my friend Tracey about how I would abort a fetus if I found myself pregnant and unable to care for the child, I was, in fact, pregnant. And let me tell you: there is no way in HELL I would have an abortion. I might talk a tough game, but I'm obviously full of shit. The way I feel over having had a miscarriage, there's no way I could ever walk into a medical facility and purposely pull the plug on a life inside of me. I am an idiot to ever have believed I could.

For 3 weeks or a month or 7 weeks or whatever it was, I had a baby growing inside my body while I was walking around completely clueless to it. That is foreign and freakish and numbing and amazing and incredible and unbelievably sad, all at once.

For the record, my hormones have by and large returned to normal, and I should have another period sometime this week. She's putting me on Yaz birth control pills (which can be purchased upstairs at Eric's, ha ha, and are low dose and contain a diuretic, to help with PMS), I have a complete physical in 2 weeks, and a mammogram sometime in the next 3 months. Oo, ah.

But hey: I'm not perimenopausal. Yay.

Peace out,
Katie

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