Ever since the summer of my first miscarriage (Summer of 2003), I’ve become a hypochondriac. You name it, I have it. Any little sign or symptom of ANYTHING and I’m thinking negative thoughts. A headache? Nope. I have brain cancer. Indigestion? Nope. I have a stomach ulcers. I don’t have lower back pain, I have Fibromyalgia. It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. I used to be the person who couldn’t understand why someone would be stressed out. Why let something you can’t control, control you? Mmm hmm. Famous. Last. Words.
After my first miscarriage, I was on Paxil for several years. I was doing well on that and also had Xanax for my back-up, really bad days. The Paxil dosage had to be increased because I was starting to get used it. I would have very bad panic attacks, go to the emergency room several times thinking I had a heart attack, all the while it was just a panic attack. In 2010, I decided I didn’t want to depend on drugs to keep me calm and I started changing my diet, started exercising and started changing my life. I still kept my Xanax, just in-case. I never used it and eventually just threw it away.
When I met my husband in 2011, I was off all drugs. I met him, totally ready to fall in love and start a family. I was stress-free and worry-free. I felt the best I had felt in years. I didn’t have a panic attack again until after my second miscarriage, in the Fall of 2012. Every feeling, every thought, every hypochondriac’s dream came back to me. I haven’t been the same since. I feel every little twinge and pain that I have. Everything is a crisis. I can’t shake it.
Why did having a miscarriage start this? With my first pregnancy, I had no worries. I never thought that my dreams would shatter the way they did. I even remember reading “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” and briefly glancing at the end of the book… the part of the book that talks about miscarriages and stillborns. “Those poor women. That won’t be me,” I thought confidently. Foolishly. I had symptoms of the miscarriage… The cramping, the spotting, then bleeding. I felt like something was wrong and choose to believe none of it. A miscarriage was not happening to me. It wasn’t. Not me.
I think because I ignored my body when it was going through the most traumatic event that it’s gone through, my mind is not letting me forget that. Because I choose to trick myself into believe everything was fine, I second guess everything my body does now. To the extreme.
Get pregnant, have a miscarriage. Wait three months–don’t get pregnant! Now! Get pregnant! Conceive. Miscarriage. Wait three months–don’t hope that you’re pregnant! Surgery. Wait three months. Try to get pregnant–no, wait! We can’t get pregnant yet. Do I need to have surgery again? We should wait. My heart and mind hurt with all the confusion my body puts us through.
Tomorrow is CD 28. I haven’t felt any PMS symptoms. I haven’t taken a pregnancy test yet. I’m dreading taking a test. I don’t know what I’m hoping for… A positive or a negative… I’ve had heart palpation’s for a week. I’m so stressed out knowing that I could potentially be pregnant again–I’m surprised I haven’t gone to the ER for an EKG. I’m waiting for that moment, that moment when my world changes again. When I’m going to the bathroom every 30 minutes looking for the spotting. And when every stomach pain is the start of a miscarriage. Again. My God, how do we keep going through this?
I’m going to have to buy a test. And I’m going to have to look at it. And I’m going to have to figure out how to live through that moment.