Attention:
Squeamish people (and men), stop reading right now. This entry is not for you.

I hesitated writing this, but one of my goals here is to talk about the stuff that normally people *don"t* ever talk about, but which is part of normal human experience.

Miscarriage is definitely one of those things. Once you've had one, people start whispering to you about theirs, but otherwise you never hear about it. It's taboo for some reason until you have one, then you join a secret club that CAN talk about it. But not too much.

I didn't find any details whatsoever about this on any medical sites, they are annoyingly vague. I guess they are afraid of grossing people out or offending them, whereas I could care less about that. Medical details are medical details. Don't read about them if they offend you. But if you want to know, I'll tell you.

So here goes. Don't say I didn't warn you.
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Yesterday evening I had a bout of cramping, went to the bathroom, and passed the "products of conception", as they are known medically.

I was rather astounded. I don't know what impulse made me reach down to check myself while sitting on the toilet, but I was shocked when I pulled my hand back, opened it, and found a little meat purse in it. I'm not sure how to describe it. I knew right away that it wasn't just a clot or a lump of random tissue, it was some kind of clearly purposeful fleshy *structure*, for lack of a better term.

I got a very clear image in my head of a shark's egg case, which is sometimes known as a "Mermaid's Purse". It didn't look anything like that really, but that was the impression I got. I'm obviously a biology nerd.

It was a little pouchy thing made of liver-like tissue, about an inch and a half long. I was able to open the pouch with a fingernail, and found another layer, like an onion made of liver. When I opened that, there was a little white balloon inside. I opened *that*, and there was just clear liquid inside with some small white dots floating around. Nothing even remotely embryo-like, by any stretch of the imagination.

I examined it for a while, simultaneously repulsed and fascinated. Then I put it in the toilet and flushed it, and went to go clean myself up.

Today I read online that I should have saved the meat purse to show to my doctor instead of flushing it down the toilet. Of course, they don't say "meat purse" on the medical sites. They use vague terms like "save any tissue passed to show to your doctor". Couldn't they be more specific? Like my doctor wants me to bring in a Ziploc bag full of every clot I've passed in the last three days? I don't think so. Can we not be more descriptive and up front?

Seems like the taboo on media discussion of abortion extends to miscarriage as well. Doesn't matter whether it happened spontaneously or not. We still can't talk about the realities of reproduction. It's bad and wrong and scary and off-limits.

You know, I'm a geek and all, but I'd just rather have the facts of being a woman straight up, please. What should I expect? I mean REALLY. Because before the meat purse appeared last night to clarify things, I didn't know what would happen. I knew I was bleeding with clots, and it was heavier than normal, but how long was it supposed to last? Did I *have* a miscarriage, or was I *having* a miscarriage? What's the deal here? Naturally, this happened on the weekend, so I couldn't call the doctor's office or anything.

Oh well. I think the important thing is that I passed the "products of conception". If I didn't, I would have to go in for a D&C, and that doesn't sound like any fun at all. Scrape my uterus...scraping *anything* sounds painful, but scraping the inside of an internal organ is not on my top ten list of fun activities, that's for damn sure.

I read today that the chances of miscarriage for a woman over 35 are one in FOUR. Since I fall in that category now, I'm a little freaked out. Great, thanks. Now that IS one piece of information I would prefer not knowing. I hate all that crap about women over 35 anyways. Like once you turn 35 you are suddenly and magically prone to all kinds of nasty stuff. Before your 35th birthday, you're golden! Statistically, that just doesn't make sense.

Well anyways, that's my personal account of miscarriage. It hasn't been fun, but it's not the end of the world either. I hope that was my first and last experience with it. Wish Dan and me luck with trying for a baby in May...another Spring baby would be great.