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."

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.