As I said before, this and my last post are not in my usual Surviving in Sweden vein. They are highly personal and depressing. They are also a bit graphic. This is part two of the story of my miscarriage. There are some cultural observations here, but mostly this post is for me – not my regular readers. It is a way for me to process what happened.
The Day after finding we were no longer pregnant
It was a tragedy of a morning, which went a bit like this:
The Swede – Have you seen Little Swede’s socks?
Me: (bursts into tears) I don’t know!
The Swede – Would you like a cup of tea?
Me: (bursts into tears) I don’t know!
We sit down to breakfast and the Swede bursts into tears.
This is when I should have canceled my trip. But I didn’t.
I got on the train to go on my business trip at 9:45 Sunday morning. I just didn’t want to cancel. I was so excited about this project. I got up at 7:00 and worked until I left. This was so I didn’t have to think about the ticking time bomb in my uterus. I was afraid it would go off at any time, but I hoped it would wait until our appointment on Tuesday.
Grateful for an ‘untypical’ Swede
I tried to do some work on the train. I read through my material, set about planning the agenda. The girl sitting next to me started asking me questions. Turns out she was a Masters student in my field. She had a thick Swedish dialect I couldn’t place and spoke a mile a minute. I maybe caught every 3 word she said, but I was just happy to have someone to listen to and focus on. She rattled on for about two hours. When it appeared she might stop, I coaxed her on. I have never been so grateful for such a talkative person.
But the highlight? The man across from us who leaned over and asked if I was from Blekinge because it sounded like I had a Blengingske accent. Score for being able to speak awesome Swedish in a crisis. Usually I get Gotland, so this was a compliment!
When I arrived, my brother and sister in law were waiting. I threw my miscarriage story at them as soon as I saw them. I hadn’t told anyone. They hadn’t known I was pregnant. The Swede swore he had told them. My crazy side started to come out. The one that keeps talking even after the brain has shut down. I am so glad my brother and sister in law are such good people.
We spent the night having a nice family night with family games and a great dinner. I cannot say how grateful I was for the distraction.
Somewhere in the afternoon the bleeding stopped. I am so grateful I had the ultrasound the night before and knew what to expect. If I hadn’t, I might have thought everything was OK. And what came next would have been even more traumatic.
I went to bed at about 10:30. At 3:30 it started. Me, the ultimate ‘hold on while I Google that’ had never bothered to Google what an 11 week miscarriage might look like until 3:30 in the morning. In the middle of one. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse.
And then it went down. Me. Alone. So much blood.
I thought I would have some warning cramps, I thought it would hurt. I am grateful there was no pain.
I am grateful I didn’t pass out – there was so much blood at once.
I am grateful for technology. And that when I sent The Swede a text message at 4 am I got an answer right away.
I am grateful for the blood, so I couldn’t see anything when I thought ‘I wonder if that was . .’
It was over by 5, but I couldn’t know that. I was too busy reading war stories on the internet. I was too afraid it might happen again. All of that blood. At work. On the train. I hadn’t felt any pain. Could it really be over?
I canceled my work appointment.
I am grateful that when I told my Brother in Law what happened he said all of the perfect things to say, all while apologizing for not really knowing what to say.
I am grateful that my sister in law helped me get back to the train station to catch an early train home.
I am grateful that I made the trip without any more trauma. And I am astounded that my later train was canceled and I got my money back for that trip, too.
I got home at 4:30 the next day. 12 hours after the worst of my experience.
I fell to pieces.
I am grateful I had a safe place to fall.
I am grateful for the family that was waiting for me.