Optimism Continues

Spain was wonderful. The first weekend was especially grand, as we spent Saturday in San Sebastien, a beautiful tourist town with a beach, and it was gloriously sunny and warm, a wonderful contrast to the snow and wind we left in Chicago!

By Sunday night, though, I started to return to reality. The distractions of culture shock had completely separated me from my physical troubles and memories, which was nice at first. And then I discovered that emotional pain is like a toxic substance that needs to be constantly vented. The toxic substance built up until it all burst out at once, and I hit a low point. I went from the happy traveler to a miscarriage sufferer in a matter of moments. The PMS and nasty yeast infection with no hope of treatment for over a week made matters much, much worse. I forgot my optimism and felt some despair, compounded by the stresses of jet lag and being in a new country where I didn't speak the local language.

[By the way, this post is about menstruation. If this doesn't interest you, you may want to just skip to the last paragraph.]

But then, the flicker of hope. That twinge of pain in the lower abdomen which grew into definite, obvious menstrual cramps. I know those and remember those; there was no more guesswork as to whether it was just ovulation or my uterus simply changing size and shape (like when I was pregnant and afterwards). The pain was the worst on Wednesday morning. I had forgotten just how bad my cramps could be before I ever went on BCP. And I absolutely reveled in it. And, indeed, AF arrived that morning. Despite my fatigue, cramps, and bloating, I had a big spring in my step when I went out to explore Bilbao that day. The thought of tampons put a huge smile on my face. I knew I was looking forward to AF, but I was even more relieved and delighted than I thought I would be. This signified not only moving toward the next step but also moving away from the past. My body had done the most obvious thing it could do to prove it could behave normally; it cleansed itself of its own accord and I felt the last physical remnants of the miscarriage leave. The sense of relief was palpable.

When Erich got back to the hotel room that evening, I told him my good news, and he helped me make that wonderful phone call. I have scheduled my HSG for this coming Thursday. I'm hoping that I will either be able to look at the screen during the test (I've gotten a good idea of what septate/bicornuate uteri look like on an HSG by now!) or that I will at least have results soon after the test. The fact that I won't get a full diagnosis from this test no longer concerns me in the least: it will be a valuable first step, and when all is said and done, I really didn't have to wait that long. I'm feeling good about this. Thank you, Optimism!