drowning
You say that only a fool fights the sea.
Very well.
I am that fool. And I will die fighting.
That is a quote from I Wrote This For You. Such an amazing blog.
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I had my post-op appointment today.
It's really difficult to describe how much I dread going back in to my OBGYN's office. Here's a brief rundown of what was going through my (unstable) mind as I arrived at the office:
As I'm pulling up, I see someone in scrubs walking to their car:
Oh there's the ultrasound tech who did the ultrasound on the worst day of my life. I wonder if she recognizes me. Was that a look of pity she just gave me?
As I park and turn off the ignition:
Do I really want to get out of this car? Do I have to?
As I enter the building and press the up button on the elevator:
I hate this fucking elevator. [insert flashbacks of the elevator trip back downstairs with my parents after learning the devastating news]
As I get off the elevator and head towards the office, with it's glass front and glass door:
Ugh the office is packed. Look at all those pregnant ladies. Fuck. This is going to suck.
As I'm signing in:
Do the girls at the front desk remember me? Do they remember my situation?
As I sit down, directly across from a super cute pregnant girl:
This was a bad seating choice. Now I have to stare at her fucking belly until I get called back. This is the same seat my mom sat in when we were here ten days ago, waiting to get called back. I wish I still had FB on my phone so I had something to do other than stare at bellies.
As I notice a couple come out from just having an ultrasound:
They look happy. Oh, I see. They have some ultrasound pictures. She's not showing, so this must be their first appointment. First ultrasound. They are sitting exactly where Buster and I sat after our first ultrasound. Coincidence?? I'm cracking. I can't do this.
And then my eyes well up with tears. And I am the weirdo that everyone else is probably staring at and wondering why on earth she's crying. I am almost wishing someone would say SOMETHING to me. Anything. Ask me how far along I am. Say something about their pregnancy. ANYTHING.
I just wanted to shout to everyone in that waiting room that my baby DIED last week. And here you are, pregnant and happy. And me, broken and suffering.
I texted Buster:
"I feel like I'm starting to crack in this waiting room. I hope I get called back soon."
"I feel like I'm starting to crack in this waiting room. I hope I get called back soon."
He immediately calls me. I already had tears in my eyes, and just hearing his voice sets me to real tears. He asks if I'm ok. I choke out, "I will be when I get out of here." I was trying to be quiet, but I'm sure the billion pregnant ladies in earshot heard me. I hurried off the phone with him, because it wasn't doing anything for my resolve.
I eventually get called back. I can instantly tell that the nurse read my chart (good girl) and knows what I'm going through. The sympathy on her face angered me. Irrational, I know.
We head back to the room. She asks how I'm doing. "I'm ok."
How do you think I'm doing? I just had to endure 25 minutes in a waiting room full of happy couples and a sea of pregnant bellies. I can't breathe. I'm drowning in this sea.
But "ok" seemed adequate.
She leaves to get the doctor.
He comes in, asks me the same exact questions the nurse did. He presses on my stomach. He tells me that the surgery went well. He mentions that the chromosomal test results aren't in yet, but should be in 2-3 weeks. He then says that I need to have a beta done today, and again in about 10 days.
And I feel dead inside.
I ask if I can exercise and if I can have sex, the answer to both is yes.
"But be sure to use protection."
I laugh in his face.
He goes on to say that he knows we did IVF, but my body is confused and no need to confuse the situation any more.
I think he's confused. 4 1/2 years of unprotected sex left me with nothing except some fond memories and some sore muscles.
He says that anything can happen. I think he might have said something about miracles. I don't remember.
At this point I'm just internally rolling my eyes.
He's a nice guy, and really, chances are anything he said to me would have been scoffed at. He's just the messenger, right?
They will call me tomorrow with my beta results. Can't wait...
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My wonderful friend Aub is having a rough time. She is currently pregnant with twins after her second IVF (her first IVF ended in miscarriage last year). She found out yesterday that she has partial placenta previa, and has been put on bedrest. Please stop by her blog and give her some well-wishes. She is struggling with this, even though she knows it must be done for the babies.
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Thank you for all the compliments on my hair! I'm loving it. Actually, I was thinking while sitting in the waiting room today, surrounded by bumps:
"At least my hair is better than theirs."
Yep, I'm a bitch.
The only thing I have is the over used " im so sorry" but I really am sorry.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you.
Your not a bitch... by any means!!!! Your strong! beautiful! smart! loved! and cared for greatly! i truly have no words... except yes this does fucking suck and i am so sorry you are going through many other things that are painful now... i can send you my cell # so you can text me next time your in that situation! chin up
ReplyDeleteI love the honesty in your post. I hope you keep posting as much as you need. Sending you so many good thoughts.
ReplyDelete<3 I know you feelings. They will run deep with pain for a long time, I have never been able to see a heart beat, but I do know the hope and then the devastation that you feel when the world comes crashing down. Everyone else seems so happy and all you want to do is cry. For my last beta I went in and was stuck in the waiting room for close to an hour with babies getting blood work and too many pregnant bellies to count. I too was thankful for my phone at that moment. I tried to ignore the beautiful babies and bellies, but my heart cried out. My prayers are going out to you, by all means go for unprotected sex. If you body decides you are able to get pregnant than so be it. It would truly be a miracle. Praying you will be blessed soon. ♥
ReplyDeleteThe quote goes with my private blog entry today... except mine was walking on eggshells! The should really try to schedule more appropriately like the first or last appointment of the day... Soo frustrating... and I would have laughed about the unprotected sex too... if it were only that easy to get knocked up~!
ReplyDeleteHate that you had such a horrible experience. I've thought about wearing blinders. That could help.
ReplyDeleteAnd being honest doesn't make you a bitch :)
Hugs. I felt that same way after my d&c sitting in the office. It was terrible.
ReplyDeleteOh that took me back to our hospital waiting times, and the influx of hugely pregnant glowy people making me homicidal - I actually put in feedback to the hospital (I know, different system to you guys in the States) that if women are there with known miscarriage can they either do a clinic for us thats not for preggy people (this is hospital, its ALL about the 'clinics'!) or us have somewhere else to wait. Turns out there was another area that no-one bothered to let us know - whoever thinks its ok to leave a shell-shocked couple dealing with their first miscarriage for never less than 45 minutes in a room full of bellyrubbers -each time - is a sick fucking individual.
ReplyDeleteYou know, we all have mobiles now - there's no reason the reception can't take your mobile number and call you when its time to come back, surely? (did that a few times whilst waiting for callback, our hospy has a reasonable coffeeshop!)
Yes, I'm still angry too I guess.
You probably know this, but there is some line of thinking that women are more fertile after a miscarriage, but I know thats likely not what you want to be thinking about right now - I reckon thats what your doctor was thinking about?
Ugh, there's nothing worse than having to sit in those awful, cold, silent waiting rooms feeling as though you're about to crack. Sorry for the miserable experience but glad it's over for you. And yes, you do have an amazing new 'do!! :)
ReplyDeleteThat sounds absolutely brutal. They definitely should be more sensitive to the ladies experiencing loss. I'm sorry you had to go through that. On a more positive note, I love the new hair.
ReplyDeleteAh hun (*hugs*) Sitting through that is hell, and I'm sorry you had to endure that.
ReplyDeleteUgh, the post-loss waiting rooms and doctor's visits are such hell. I remember my 2nd trip to the ER during my loss when I had to sit in the non-critical area which was basically a big room divided up with curtains, listening to a pregnant heroin addict in the 'room' across from me trying to get admitted to the hospital, which she did after she passed out. I had some very bitchy thoughts going through my head too. Hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteGod, the waiting room is hell for an infertile even on a normal day. I can't imagine how much worse it is when going through a loss :( Do not feel guilty for the emotions you are feeling or the thoughts you are having. You have to grieve in your own way and no one has room to judge. I will keep praying for you ::hug::
ReplyDeleteUse protection? Ass. Miracles? Ass. You totally have better hair than all of them.
ReplyDeleteDamn straight your hair is better than theirs!
ReplyDeleteWell, you hair is better than theirs! Chin up, buttercup! Thinking of you!
ReplyDeleteHi there, I just wanted to let you know that you have helped me out on a very personal level. I was on the August boards as well, my username is W8ting4ababy. After struggling with infertility for 5.5 years we finally recieved our first positive after our 2nd IUI this year on December 10th...happiest day of my life. But it quickly turned into another disappointment on January 3rd when i went for my first ultrasound to discover a beautiful gestational sac and a yolk sac with no baby. They immediately took me off the progesterone and said i would be miscarrying or having to have a D&C. I go back in this following Tuesday the 17th for the next ultrasound which i would of been 9 weeks to see how things are progressing(which they haven't i still have no signs of miscarriage) looks like i will also be having D&C. I just wanted to send you a big thank you for writing your blogs they have helped me out more than you'll ever know!! Big Hugs to you and you are always in my prayers!
ReplyDeleteSara
The first visit back to the OB's office is absolutely the worst, and you captured the pain of it perfectly. I had always thought there should be two waiting rooms at OB's...one for women who had just lost their babies, and one for the smug fertiles. I hated going in there, and would always refuse to sit in the chair I sat in the previous appointment when I found out my baby had died. Why is it I am always the only one in there every crying? Why are they always the lucky ones? I'm sorry you had to experience that pain.
ReplyDeleteI hated my first post-miscarriage OB appointment, too. They suck. We should not have to go through that, ever. Babies shouldn't die.
ReplyDeleteJust so you know, though, your doctor wasn't making up the "use protection" bit. It's another cruel twist of fate, but we are more fertile after a miscarriage. My DH and I have about a 1-3% chance of conceiving on our own, ever...and to took 10 months of IUI treatments to conceive our twins...and then I went on to have a damned chemical pregnancy (natural conception) the month after our loss. Stupid, unfair, I was NOT ready to be pregnant like I thought I was, and I wasn't upset that I lost that little bean because of that, but damn, that was a painful 2-day OMG I'm actually pregnant blip in my TTC radar.
Hugs to you...
Doctors offices are a cruel, cruel joke. Haven't they figured out a better way to do it yet? If you're there because of BAD news, you should not sit near the people there for GOOD news. Drives me insane. I know my situation is different, but loss is painful regardless and I, too, wanted to scream "my baby died!!!" It's the worst. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteReading this post I was right there with you crying in the waiting room. I'm angry and sad for you. Every OB-GYN office should have a secluded back door for us not so lucky patients. I HATE going to my OB-GYN argh.
ReplyDelete