I miscarried on Tuesday. The experience left me numb and drained in every way. Between the physical effects of the miscarriage itself, the ER imposed dehydration/starvation, and the emotional stress I was a wreck. My abdomen hurt, my back hurt, my heart hurt, my head hurt, in fact... just about everything hurt in some way. We had been in the ER for more than 8 hours and in those 8 hours I wasn't allowed any food or water. I had only had half a piece of toast and a banana all day.
Anyone who knows me, knows that this is never good for me... even under the best of conditions. I was too hungry to eat, but I tried my best. We ordered sushi and miso soup. The soup went down well enough, although I couldn't handle the saltiness of it for long. The sushi... and any other food that I put in my mouth over the next few days... instantly and evilly produced horrible gassy stomach cramps. They were actually stronger than the cramping in my uterus.
My doctor told me that it would be perfectly reasonable to take the rest of the week off from work. In fact, she told that I definitely shouldn't work before Friday, but that I could take Friday off as well, if I wanted. She said I should guage my physical well being and balance it with my emotional well being. So, with most of my cramping subsided, and having regained the ability to eat more comfortably, I decided that work would be a welcome distraction.
In many ways it was. I am a preschool teacher. It is a job that demands one to be present and in the moment. It is a job that is constantly moving, constantly busy. In many ways, going back to work today was good for me. For most of the day, it did provide a distraction from my pain... kept me from dwelling on it. But other parts of the day, I found incredibly difficult.
I didn't know how to handle the questions of concern from the children's parents. They weren't told why I was out... and they didn't know that I was pregnant. They only knew that I am not often out without notice and that missing three days is way out of the norm for me. My school is a close knit community and many of the parents genuinely care about my well being. So when some of them inquired about how I was feeling, or what sort of illness I had, I found it difficult to put on a smile and make something up. I just couldn't. Instead I'd find myself blurting out "I had a miscarriage." and then tearing up.
One mother... a new parent who I am still getting to know... was asking very direct questions about why I was out... from across the room. She wanted to know exactly what I had, seemingly concerned about it spreading to her child and others. I tried to softly mouth to her that I had a miscarriage, but she wasn't able to read my lips. She then goes on to tell me how her child was also ill and she thought perhaps we had the same thing. "Umm... no," I said, "We definitely didn't. I wasn't contagious." I know I was abrupt and odd in both tone, expression, and wording. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. She apologized later in the day, saying she didn't mean to imply that I had infected the children. I started to explain... to tell her about what really happened so that she wouldn't think that I'm some temperamental bitch... but a child came running up and needed to use the bathroom and the opportunity was lost. Now I don't know how to bring it back up... or if I want to even bother.
Sometimes, being around the children was comforting. They are intuitive beings... and instinctively seem to know when an extra long mutual snuggle is what we both need. A few of the little girls were sad, grouchy, and melodramatic (as little girls sometimes are). Typically, when they get that way, I give them a comforting hug and then work to raise them out of it so they can move on with enjoying their day. Today, I let them bask in it for a little while... I needed the lengthy cuddles more than they did and they were happy to melt into my lap.
Other times, being around the children was hard. I couldn't help but think... how long? How long will I be caring for other people's children before I can care for my own? I broke down crying and had to leave the room twice. I tried not to let them see that I was upset, just told them I needed to use the bathroom. One little boy, who notices EVERYTHING, did ask what was wrong and why I was crying. I had no words to give him. Fortunately, he accepted my answer that it was private. I don't think I have the stamina to stand strong against a battering of persistent questions from a four year-old. I had been dreading this little guy questioning me about my "illness".
I made it through my day. I'm glad I went, but it was very hard. At times, I really wished I had stayed home. On the other hand... I've done nothing but obsess since I've been home... so the routine of going to work was good for me.
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