I had my D&E (dialate and evacuate) procedure done yesterday. It was a seven hour long day of paperwork, consultations, the actual surgery, lying in a bed with an IV, recovering…etc…
Here are my thoughts…I couldn’t quite figure out how to do this any other way.
-The inability to eat or drink after midnight until 5pm the next day was harder then I thought…More or less, the fact that I couldn’t even have a SIP of water. I forgot how second nature it is to grab a glass and fill’er up. Ginger ale and saltines just didn’t do it at 5 o’clock either.
-The hospital continuously asks you your birthdate and your full name over and over and over and over and over again, just to make sure you didn’t secretly switch beds with someone else. Yea…because I really wanted a d&E today…for fun. Ugh.
-I will never say a bad word again about Dr. Wilson. She was amazing to me, had the sweetest bedside manner, rubbed my feet and made sure I was okay…and made me feel comfortable. I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart for ever judging her based off of other people’s situations, because, she was awesome yesterday.
-Apparently when you don’t eat or drink for that long before you get to your procedure, finding a vein to put my IV in was next to impossible. The nurses tried two spots and failed, and finally on the third try in a completely different location, they got one. I have bruising/bleeding under the skin to prove it.
-The nurses at the Paoli hospital are seriously some of the sweetest women I have ever met in my life. I could have bottled them up and taken them home. The nurse who took care of me after the procedure came in and played “Cash Cab” with us on TV…she was awesome at it. I hugged her when I left.
-Apparently I have eyelashes that are “gorgeeeeeousssss” according to the nurses, who had to tell the next nurse, and the next, and the next.
-Being wheeled around the hospital in a bed is a truly weird feeling. I’m capable of walking (at least before the procedure…) and they wouldn’t let me of course.
-Coming off of anesthesia is the worlds most relaxing feeling EVER…I think I love it.
-The woman who was my nurse RIGHT after the surgery (coming off the anesthesia) was this awesome old lady. It turns out that I teach her best friends grandson. Small world.
-As I was waking up after the surgery, this same woman whispered close to me, “I tried for 4 years….” I told her I was sorry and that must have been really hard. I asked her if she ever miscarried, and she had not. She said, “I really can’t understand how you’re feeling.” She hung around me about twenty minutes more while I phased in and out of reality…and then as they wheeled me out of Recovery and back up to the 4th floor, she whispered in my ear, “I really hope you get pregnant again. We need more smart children in the world.” I could have cried. But, in that moment I think I giggled a little and told her thank you.
-Being greeted by my amazing friend Jennie on the 4th floor was awesome. She hung out with me, laughed, watched tv, read magazines, and joked with nurses. She was an awesome friend for driving from Pittsburgh to be with me.
-With that said, I was sorry that in the end I told Declan he didn’t need to come and to go to work instead. I can’t tell you how many people asked where my husband was…making him look like the absentee husband that he is NOT. I didn’t want him to take a paid day to come be with me if Jennie were here. I found out after the surgery (and too late) that he could have had a bereavement day, and wouldn’t have counted against him. Just wonderful.
-I had to have a shot of RhoGham in my BUTT. I haven’t had a shot in my butt since I was too little to remember. RhoGham is the shot that women must take when you have Rh negative blood type (I’m O negative)…because if your baby is positive, basically, the moms blood and baby’s blood can harm each other. I now carry a little card around with me that says, “I am Rh Negative and have had a shot of RhoGham on _____”. I kind of feel like a loser.
-I never thought I’d ever need pitocin until I was in induced labor. But, indeed, I had an entire bag of pitocin drip running through my veins telling my uterus to contract (to help clear it out).
-I hate riding in a wheelchair when you get discharged from the hospital.
-I love my insurance. I don’t pay a dime, for basically anything.
-For most women, this procedure is emotionally painful. For me, it helped me to move on.
-Food never tasted so good after going without it for 22 hours.
This whole experience has been such a life lesson. I feel like I have the abililty to empathize so much more with women who have gone through miscarriage. A shocking amount miscarry their babies, and it’s just not fair. I’ll never know why women who want their baby so badly experience infertility or miscarriage, while it seems like “accidents” happen all the time to the unmarried, or teenager, or whatever. I have some questions to ask God when I get to heaven, that's for sure.
I have learned that I grieve differently then other people. I really don’t like to hear a lot of mush (as I like to refer to it). I prefer to know that I’m being thought about, and how unfair and sucky the situation is. Sadly, Bible Verses and ‘comforting words’ just don’t comfort me when I’m sad. I know all the Bible Verses. Trust me when I say, that I KNOW it’s hard to find the words to comfort people in situations. But, what I’ve learned is that they don’t need words…they just need to know you’re there. You care. No pity, just love.
My eyes have been opened more to the unjust way of life, leaving me questioning, but not bitter….sad, but not broken….weak in ways, but a lot stronger in others. I feel as though I can take leaps forward…..in greater caution, but with a lot of hope.
With all this said, please know that EVERY single comment has been extremely precious to me. The love and support I’ve gotten from everyone makes me well up with tears. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.