I'm obviously a virgin (occasional) blogger. I keep this site mostly as a diary, because I had created it to write about Oliver when I was pregnant with him and after he died I didn't know what else to do with it. It never occurred to me anyone else would read my words or care enough to write back.
I was too upset to go to my own family for comfort tonight, but finding that strangers have been reaching out to me all along gives me strength. I don't know why. Thank you.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
It's funny, I only feel inclined to write on the very worst days. I feel like only rock bottom drives me here. I suppose that's not really funny at all.
It's been a month now since I've had any evidence that this baby is alive. 11 weeks on Thursday, so no movement (or stillness) yet to encourage me (or terrify me). I've survived the four weeks since the last sono mostly numb, mentally preparing myself for the worst and all the while berating myself for not giving this baby the faith it so deserves from me. If I could just make it to tomorrow morning, atleast I would know one way or the other.
But now I won't. They lost my appointment. So sorry, transitioning to electronic medical records you know. But don't worry, we can get you in with Dr. X (not my doctor) on Friday. FRIDAY?!! That's an eternity from now. It might as well be next year. I will never make it. I've cried and cried tonight, considering all the possibilities. I could check myself into the emergency room, say I have abdominal pain. They have to check the baby. I don't dare check into my own ER, they don't know I'm pregnant and besides, I'd have to face them all at work tomorrow. I'm not behaving very professionally.
So another ER then. ER staff hate it when asymptomatic pregnant women check in just to get sono'd. It's wasteful. I'd wait in the bathroom so as not to take up a room, and pay for the whole thing out of pocket, just to know this baby is alive.
I'm glad no one is here to comfort me. Especially no one I love - my pain is too deep to be comforted tonight, and I'm afraid I would lash out at the wonderful people in my life who least deserve it. I know my husband would kindly say "it must be okay honey, you're still vomiting. That means healthy, high hormone levels." And he would be right and still I would yell "Shall I count for you how many times I vomited after Oliver was dead?! Have you forgotten?" which would be cruel, because of course he has not.
I don't yell at my husband, and I don't check into emergency rooms for no reason. Atleast I don't think I do. I hardly know myself anymore.
It's been a month now since I've had any evidence that this baby is alive. 11 weeks on Thursday, so no movement (or stillness) yet to encourage me (or terrify me). I've survived the four weeks since the last sono mostly numb, mentally preparing myself for the worst and all the while berating myself for not giving this baby the faith it so deserves from me. If I could just make it to tomorrow morning, atleast I would know one way or the other.
But now I won't. They lost my appointment. So sorry, transitioning to electronic medical records you know. But don't worry, we can get you in with Dr. X (not my doctor) on Friday. FRIDAY?!! That's an eternity from now. It might as well be next year. I will never make it. I've cried and cried tonight, considering all the possibilities. I could check myself into the emergency room, say I have abdominal pain. They have to check the baby. I don't dare check into my own ER, they don't know I'm pregnant and besides, I'd have to face them all at work tomorrow. I'm not behaving very professionally.
So another ER then. ER staff hate it when asymptomatic pregnant women check in just to get sono'd. It's wasteful. I'd wait in the bathroom so as not to take up a room, and pay for the whole thing out of pocket, just to know this baby is alive.
I'm glad no one is here to comfort me. Especially no one I love - my pain is too deep to be comforted tonight, and I'm afraid I would lash out at the wonderful people in my life who least deserve it. I know my husband would kindly say "it must be okay honey, you're still vomiting. That means healthy, high hormone levels." And he would be right and still I would yell "Shall I count for you how many times I vomited after Oliver was dead?! Have you forgotten?" which would be cruel, because of course he has not.
I don't yell at my husband, and I don't check into emergency rooms for no reason. Atleast I don't think I do. I hardly know myself anymore.
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