The Return Visit

One week. It's hard to believe that one week has passed since learning that I had miscarried. Last week was such a long week for me. And yet...life goes on. As it should. As I wake each morning, it is like a bad dream telling myself, reminding myself, that I'm not pregnant anymore. If it wasn't for M's sweet voice heard over the monitor talking and singing, I'm not sure how long it would have taken me to get out of bed.

I wonder how long the reality of my miscarriage will be the first thought in my head each morning?

This morning I had to return to the OBGYN's office for my post-miscarriage check-up.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt as I watched a pregnant couple smile and laugh while looking at their ultrasound pictures. But...bitterness is ugly, so I smiled at them, and they smiled back. It actually made me feel better. I am lucky because I know the happiness they are feeling.

Getting an ultrasound of your empty uterus is depressing. Like for real. I stared up at the ceiling...since there was no miracle to marvel at up on the screen...while the ultrasound-tech punched a bunch of buttons. And just like that...it was over. I was ushered back to the waiting room, and then back to a different room to wait for the doctor. The nurse said my blood pressure was high...but under my circumstances that was understandable. I was holding it together up to that point until she remarked, "These return visits are always difficult. It's ok." She left. My eyes welled up with tears, and yet, I was also angry at myself for crying. I wasn't going to cry. I hadn't cried about it for a few days, and I really didn't want to today.

Anyways, the doctor returned a few moments later and pulled her chair up next to me...looked me in the eyes, and asked how I was doing. Of course I cried a bit more. Ugh. I hate crying in front of people! I told her I was okay considering everything. She told me that everything from the ultrasound came back looking fine, and medically, I was cleared. Then, she gave me time to ask her any questions. I didn't really have too many questions. I of course asked her if it was my fault (which of course I knew it wasn't but couldn't help but ask), and she asked me if I did crack-cocaine! Which of course made me laugh. She assured me it was likely due to a chromosomal abnormality, and what happened was just what was meant to happen. I guess I just needed to hear it from a professional. She talked to me about what to expect from here regarding my body and if we want to try again in the future. And then, she was gone. I was alone again, took some deep breaths, dried my eyes, and then left.

As I wrote on FB last Friday:
Dearest Family and Friends - I truly want to thank you for all your kind words of support. much to my surprise - sharing my experience and from friends through FB comments and messages, my blog, and texts/phone calls have been so very comforting. I appreciate it so much, and please know that today is the first day this week that I've felt the most peace. Thank you.
And I really do mean that.

I was mostly astounded hearing from so many friends that have experienced miscarriages themselves. It made me so sad...yet, I also didn't feel so alone either. To those friends who shared their experiences with me. Thank you.

As I re-read this post...I have confess I still feel almost ashamed about my thoughts and feelings. Why is it I feel like I'm being over-dramatic in the situation? Maybe I am? I know my feelings of sadness and grief will subside over time. But for now...I still feel almost silly for being so sad about the loss of my 7 week old 'baby'...a baby the size of a blueberry (according to Baby Center). I smile at people and tell them I'm doing okay when they ask. And, that's not necesarily a lie. I am ok. But...it's not really the whole truth. I should say, "I'm doing ok, but, I'm still pretty angry and really sad about what happened." I guess I'm afraid most people are thinking that it was so early...so...it can't possibly be that hard to come to terms with. I mean...it's not like I was 12 weeks or 20 weeks along. But really, I guess that's like saying you can only be sad if you miscarry at 12 weeks. At 11 weeks, it's not big deal. And I know that doesn't make sense. And...I'm rambling....

Why is it so hard to accept my own feelings, and to not be embarrassed by them?
*sigh*