A locked up history

Three weeks since onset, the miscarriage is complete and finally over. My second set of ultrasounds, paired with some pretty strong pelvic decongestants, showed a thin layer of endometrium with no remaining tissue or ad nexium abnormalities. I lost a lot more tissue this week, but this time through I think I was ready to lose tissue. At exactly two weeks of blood, my uterus abruptly decided it was done and I was returned to my previously interrupted cycle. My progesterone levels plummeted, corresponding with a drop in base metabolic temperature. I pulled through the worst of the depression, The husband and I are still on the same page, and I quit pasta and chocolate again. I even started working out again, though I quickly learned that I'm not as strong as I was. I took some damage in the process, and that's ok.

While I was previously cursing my "backsliding", a dear friend of mine wrote me a letter which reminded me that "Life isn't linear."  She's absolutely right. It's not fair to myself to hold a standard which is totally unuseful both to myself and to my future patients- Life is so dynamic, so full of these unexpected turns and twists. I did the best I could for myself at each step. I had no self destructive behavior, and even if it feels like I'm restarting a journey that I should be much closer to the end of, I keep reminding my head that my heart took a side trip, and the distance is longer because the circumstances are different.
I did my best.
I was the most careful momma I could be, with my prenatals and my fantastic protein-full diet and my careful exercise. I was the most graceful grieving mother I could be, with my bags of chocolate and my copious tears and my outreach for help when I needed it. Now, it's time to move on and focus on being the best doctor I can be, by using all the good I've found in this experience to develop compassion, to further my relationship with my husband, to rejoice in the support of my friends. To learn what I need, so that when we try to conceive on purpose, the timing will be better and maybe I'll have even dealt with an infant by then. This month at school is going to see 3 boys delivered, and a girl to a young friend in April.
I got my locket, as the pictures suggest. Somehow, clipping the pictures and fixing them to the inside provided so much closure.

Even though I can leave the locket closed, and not look at the experience, knowing that I can see the five weeks when I had a baby inside of me whenever I want is strangely reassuring for me. Like having proof for something that otherwise might have slipped away into the chaos of history unremarked upon. I have the memories locked up around my neck, where they provide so much comfort.

The five pictures are the pictures from after conception. On the backs of them, I've written the scant details of my metal rabbit baby's life. Conceived January eleventh. Due October fourth. Lost February 12th. Though it's hard to tell when the losing really happened- technically, the beta-HCG had dropped a week prior to that, which probably means the losing was earlier. I stopped feeling baby's energy on February ninth, but the tissue loss was the most on the twelfth. That's when I lost the gestational sack, and so my decision for a loss date is the date that the baby actually left my body. There's something nice about having picked a date, even though with my excessive obstetrical knowledge, I know it was a process and not a date. Again, it's the idea that I've made this a concrete thing for myself, that I've made the details of an event solid and impervious to the rushing of history- enclosed in a silver locket, fastened with tiny magnets,hung by sturdy chain near to my heart. A history that I can leave on the bathroom counter, or that I can show someone else.

A history all my own.