Missing you
The table was cold. The words were colder.
“Are you sure you’re pregnant?”
Nothing on the ultrasound. Blood in the urine sample. Five minutes before even a faint line showed up on the pregnancy test.
I recite my HCG test results again. And again.
Running through my mind were the words that made me leave another doctor, who said over a month earlier, “Don’t worry, Honey. Everything will be just fine.” Bitch.
I’m left alone. White walls. Steel sink. Blank HPT. Bloody thighs.
I couldn’t believe this was happening again.
What followed were psychotic moments at the lab, screaming “My baby is dead! My baby is dead!” at the inept counter people refusing to let me drop off my samples and go cry in peace. Shock while listening to the doctor say, “When it’s three in the morning and you call me, doubled over in pain because you refused the D&C, and you want my help, you’ll have to wait.” Tests, ultrasounds, ER visits, perinatologists, more doctors, constant pain, and always the blood. Always the HCG levels staying the same. Always an empty uterus. Always the question, “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”
I had a gross jealousy of other ectopic pregnancy moms. They got to see their baby. They had answers. People took them seriously. And they never, in my mind, were asked if they were sure they were pregnant, never reduced to a puddle of insanity wondering if I really was making this all up.
Little Kiddo, it’s been four years this month. I’ve never really had a chance to say goodbye. I was always trying to say hello. I miss you.
Love,
Mom
posted by Katherine Zander @ 3:20 PM
6 comments
6 Comments:
man, kz, that's rought. and heartfelt. anyone who has children can feel what you're feeling, i think. even though i'm a guy.
how is that one minute you think only of yourself and the next minute think, "i'd step in front of a train for this little one."
people can be so coarse about life and the potential for life.
e+
Thanks, Eric. Doesn't matter if you're a guy - Daddys love their kids, too.
I never really "got" it when folks would say your life changes after kids. Not until I felt life inside me did I understand, and not until I held life in my arms did I totally "get" it. It's not about fewer movie nights or the freedom, never taken before anyways, to just fly to Paris that night on a whim. It's about complete selflessness, and utter selfishness at the same time. To be a parent is to know Love.
As for callousness, man, they grow 'em rough here. I've been through over 25 OBs through five pregnancies and three births, trying to find one who really cared about his or her patients and could fit me in. I finally found one, he attended when my youngest was born. *Almost* makes me want another baby just to have him be my doc again, LOL. But not quite enough.
it wasn't real for me until the moment i saw him. for women, i'm sure it's WAY before that. ;)
e+
Oh, KZ, your story broke my heart. I lost a little one, whom I'm sure was a little girl named Emily—but I never got to know for sure—in 1999, right after my mom died. I was 40. My husband and I sobbed for days. You never forget.
Thanks for this post. I have also written about my loss if you ever get a chance to read it. Oh, the things that people have in common...
Eric - yah, ok, I'll give you that ; ). Most dads I know, including my husband, feel the same way. There is something to be said for carrying your own little amazing secret for a long time that Dads don't get to be a part of. Personally? I think that's what Mona Lisa was smiling about.
Katharine - my first loss was in 1999, too, and I swear she too was a girl, although we never knew. I'm sorry for your loss. No, you never forget. Frankly, I have a strong need to keep her, and the one mentioned here, in my memory, as that is all I have of them.
sj - as if I need a reason to shed a few tears today, here in full PPD dementia, you've given me one. May we always remember Sam. Thanks for sharing his, and your, story. And, may we always use the gifts our losses gave us. My due date for my first loss is coming up in about a month - I've been waiting to post some stuff I've written over the years for her - whether or not it's my 100th post ; )
Thanks for the kind words, all. I'm not looking for sympathy... my ectopic pregnancy was just really rough on the grieving part. I've never really grieved for it like I did my late miscarriage. I was so involved in fighting for my own health, I couldn't focus on what I lost. It comes in fits and spurts. And this, the fourth anniversary of it all (well, it took nearly two months, but soon it will have been over for four years), well, I finally had something to say. Thanks for listening.
Post a Comment
<< Home