I'm not sure where to begin. On the surface, there isn't much to report. I haven't truly begun to bleed, though there has been staining on and off. Early on, I passed a smear of clear slime with a thread of red in it. I assume this is an early version of the mucus plug which seals the cervix shut during pregnancy. I've seen it every time about a week before I miscarry.
For several days I felt occasional waves of cramps with no real pattern except that they seemed to be getting more intense and, strangely, less frequent. Those cramps were different from what I usually experience, broadly abdominal rather than strictly uterine. I haven't had any nausea or breast tenderness (except right now, I must admit, my breasts are sore). I suppose I could find hope in this but it is canceled by a steady-droning, increasingly intense uterine ache. This is very familiar. I would be surprised if I'm not bleeding by the end of the day.
I have been reluctant to talk about all this. The time between the demise of a pregnancy and an actual miscarriage is fraught with conflicting symptoms. I don't want to fend off hopefuls who insist I shouldn't give up. I appreciate the sentiment, and assure you, I'm doing nothing to prevent a pregnancy from succeeding. It's just that I know this terrain so well, and I recall the torture I felt in the past, clinging desperately to decreasing hope.
Of course I imagine myself looking back at this eight months from now with a baby in my arms. How could I not? But when that thought comes through, I do not cling. I acknowledge it for what it is, and appreciate its sweetness. And move forward into the next moment of waiting.