Wow. The love youguys are sending is just amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Warning: TMI update. I don't want to censor my experience because writing it here is part of my therapy process. Read no further if it will make you upset.
Yesterday, 4.30 pm central time, the m/w called and asked if we could do it at 6 pm instead of 5 due to work. 'Kay.
6 pm she said we needed to put in some misoprostol vaginally and orally to soften the cervix to make it a bit easier, and it would be several hrs after insertion before the procedure. I wasn't counting on that and was even eager to do it sans softening, just DO IT ALREADY, it's been a tedious wait and psyching myself up I just WANT IT OUT. But, am convinced to wait until today. *sigh* No heart to convey to youguys that it still wasn't done, and yet another opportunity to turn back, I don't want or need any more opportunities because every one wrenches my heart, squeezes it that much tighter, but anyway I check the tarot cards one last time just in case I'm supposed to do something different, and yet again they tell me I'm doing the right thing.
I take the misoprostol which causes nausea and diarrhea, and gas, and then Viet and I head off to her house where in her little makeshift consultorio she has all the instruments, table, probably better equipped than most Mexican state hospitals. I put on a robe and lay down, legs in stirrups, and proceed to feel really uncomfortable things, a little local anesthetic ouch ouch, cervix dilation OUCH OUCH, scrape scrape of my uterus, un-fncking-believable ouch on so many levels. My brain, my heart, my uterus. I kept my hand on my uterus, or tapped my heart, both unconscious tics I didn't think about until I found myself doing them.
During the process I closed my eyes, could not look at Viet; I tried to relax my pelvis (unsuccessfully), and chanted over and over either "om namah shivaya" or "let it flow, let it happen, let it go" non stop quietly under my breath. I was interested in seeing the stuff that was suctioned out, I've never been grossed out by that kind of thing although this stuff carried a bit more emotional charge than, say, a healthy placenta. When she showed it to me, I said goodbye under my breath. When she left the room post-worst part, I burst into heart-wrenching sobs, my face a mask of grief I felt like I could see from the outside, feeling it so deeply, so desperately.
Then, it was over. I walked into that beautiful colonial building on a sunny cobblestone street an hour before, a pregnant woman, and walked out now, not pregnant. I was relieved and overwhelmed with sadness simultaneously. Was? Am. I am relieved and overwhelmed with sadness.
Now, though, I'm just spent. Just, wanting to curl right up here, and take the beautiful words you all have written, and spin them into the loveliest yarn you ever saw, and weave them into a warm blanket to warm my toes and my heart, while my hair is petted by a bunch of mamahands from all over the internet. Thank you for being my friends, and witness to this nightmare. Your support means so much to me.