Sometimes while I'm here in San Francisco I forget what it's like to have a bunch of friends all around me.
People I can call to meet up for a quick drink after work.
People I can swing by their place on a whim because I'm in the area.
People who can come hang out and watch chick flicks with me while my husband is traveling.
I forget what's it's like to have those people.
But last Saturday I remembered.
My miscarriage started almost as soon as we landed in NYC.
I had a bit of spotting. Light brown. Minimal.
My midwife said she wasn't worried, spotting is very normal in the first trimester and as long as it wasn't red and I wasn't having any pain it was nothing to worry about.
Friday the spotting continued and began to pick up in quantity, but it was still brown.
Friday night it turned red and I got worried. But I really REALLY did not want to go to the ER in NYC at 11pm on a Friday night. And honestly I knew that if I was miscarrying there was nothing they could do for me.
Saturday morning I passed a small clot and that was it. Time for a visit to the ER.
The ER visit was BRUTAL. We were there for 4 hours, I had several really painful pelvic exams, 3 ultrasounds where they just stared and stared at the screen but wouldn't tell me anything and when I finally got off the table my blood was all over the floor and they didn't even clean it up, just threw a towel over it AFTER I had stood up and seen it.
After 4 hours they finally said it, your baby has no heartbeat.
We both broke down in tears that we had been holding in just waiting for the words even though we already knew hours ago.
And I really really wanted to go home. I could not imagine a worse time and place for this to happen. This was supposed to be my birthday trip to my favorite place in the world and here we were experiencing one of the worst things imaginable.
We were staying with friends, but I just couldn't face going anywhere where people would be.
So we booked a hotel, got into bed and cried our eyes out. And I told Dom I just wanted to go home.
He told me I would regret that. Not saying goodbye to everyone.
And as shitty as I felt and how desperately I wanted my own bed and my own bathtub and my cats to snuggle with, I knew he was right.
So, as we texted our sad news and the calls slowly came in one by one. I said yes to everyone. Yes you can come by.
And within a few hours our teeny tiny New York hotel room was packed full of people. People who cared, people who had stopped whatever they were doing to come comfort us in our time of need.
They brought wine.
They brought food.
They brought presents.
They brought themselves.
And I felt loved.
And then I realized that yes, worst timing possible, but also best timing possible. If the miscarriage had happened here in San Francisco I would have had no one (except my husband of course, but he's hurting too, he needs comfort just as much as I do). No one to hug me, no one to comfort me, no one to whisper in my ear that it get's better with time because they know, they've been there too. I would of had none of that.
And for that I was grateful for the timing.
Because that, that is what friends are for.