I had miscarried Labor Day weekend, and we were out of
school on Monday. I went into work on
Tuesday and told my team and principal that I wouldn’t be in for the rest of
the week. Each person had a different
reaction. They all stick with me, some
were nicer than others- and I’ll just leave it at that.
Following the ER doctor’s order of resting for the next
few days, I had a lot of alone time. Mr.
wasn’t able to take time off from work and my sisters, and sister in law were all
busy with work and school as well. My ‘inner circle’ was still going on with
life, while I stayed at home and thought mine was over.
I know that while I was off, God was trying to speak to
me, but I didn’t want to hear anything He had to say. I didn’t open my Bible or read my
devotional. (Honestly, I feel like I had
just run up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door because I didn’t want
anything to do with God. Can you relate
to that? I know I can’t be the only
person who had been so mad at their mom or dad they ran away and slammed a door
at them while they were growing up.)
But, that’s what I did.
I ran away. I was so angry I
pretty much was ready to punch anything or anyone in the face who came in
contact with me and said I needed to pray.
I didn’t do a lot while I was home.
I just kept replaying the events over and over in my head. Which wasn’t healthy. When you are alone, after a tragedy happens,
your mind (or the devil) plays a lot of tricks on you.
The Wednesday after Labor Day, I had to meet with my OBGYN
for an exam and have some more blood work done.
This was the worst day of my life.
I think it was worse than actually going to the ER. Don’t get me wrong, my doctor is amazing; she
has wonderful bedside manor, and was very compassionate.
I went to the doctor by myself, and sat in the waiting
room surrounded by swollen bellies. I
sat in this room, thinking I was going to be OK, thinking I was tough enough to
face reality. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t look at any woman who had a
beautiful baby bump. A mother’s glow, a
smile on their face. In a room
surrounded by people, I felt utterly alone.
(To put a little more salt in the wound, Savage Garden’s
‘I knew I Love You Before I Met You’ was playing overhead. Are you freaking kidding me? I have come to the conclusion that there needs to
be separate waiting rooms for women who are expecting and women who are not.)
After meeting with my doctor, she sent me to have some
labs run. These labs included blood
work, to check my hormone levels, and an ultrasound. I could handle the blood work. I was able to hold myself together while a
lady who did not have nice bedside manor would conduct my ultrasound.
She walked me into a room and gave me directions; I
obliged, and waited for her to come back.
She moved the wand and said, “Yup you’re empty.” I lay there motionless. I was furious and heartbroken. How can you be so callus?
She left the room with my frozen ultrasound
images left up. All I saw was emptiness. A hole that was once filled with a life had
been ripped away. I didn’t need an
ultrasound to prove that. I didn’t need
anything...but my baby.
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