Well, it’s July 4th. While everyone is planning their cookouts and packing their sunscreen to head to the lake, I feel like I am on an island of my own grief. So far away from everything normal.
Yesterday, we ended up spending our afternoon in the Emergency Room, as my doctor wanted me to be checked out. We paged him yesterday morning, and while sorry for us, he said I needed to continue my meds until we got confirmation because while it was most likely, there are some cases where women bleed heavily and the pregnancy is still viable. I already absolutely knew in my heart, plus I have unfortunate experience in this area. So, I had to do one last Lovenox shot and wasn’t real happy about it.
So, off we went to the ER at 11:45 am, hoping that by getting there early we wouldn’t have to wait so long. We didn’t, but instead we had to endure the insensitivity and downright cruelty of medical “professionals.” When checking in, I told them, while in tears, that I had miscarried last night, but my doctor wanted for me to be checked out. She gave me this look, and said, “Oh, so you’re not in pain right now,” and I said, “No, not currently.” Then, she says, “Oh, so this is a well visit?” And, I almost lost it. The only thing I was able to muster up, while choking back tears was, “You call it whatever you want.”
I was so, so mad. Wellness visit? Really? Did I look well? No, I am not well. I just miscarried and was terrified of bleeding too much. She made me feel like I didn’t belong there and was wasting their time. After everything I had been through, I didn’t need that too. I just don’t understand how she could be so insensitive. They can count on getting a letter from me.
As we left, the nurse, who was very nice, wished us a “Happy July 4th!” Not, “I hope you feel better.” or “I’m sorry for your loss.” It’s as if nothing happened. She really was a nice girl, just blissfully ignorant I suppose.
Well, something did happen. We lost a baby (an embryo, a fetus, whatever you want to call it), but we lost a little life. And, whoever out there thinks it’s no big deal, it’s not really a baby yet…well, I hope for your sake, you NEVER have to find out. One thing I am sure of is that the farther along you are, the harder the loss will be. And keeping things in perspective, I came across a blog post this morning, where a lady gave birth at 22 weeks last week and the baby died in her arms. My heart just breaks reading it. I simply can’t imagine.
So, while I’m sad, I also want the opportunity to be thankful for what I do have. An amazing, loving husband, supportive family and friends and two beautiful dogs. Maybe that will have to be enough.