Friday, May 20, 2005
The End of Bliss
Do you remember the days when you first met your love? For me, ever the pessimist, it started with doubt and a dash of hope -- Wow, he's not only cute but he can string together sentences too. Maybe this is something. Hey, I really want to see him and he wants to see me too. What do you know about that?
I remember the days following those days -- heady, wonderful days when I felt like every part of me was happy. When the inane stuff from work wasn't making me crazy because life was just too good.
Then it got better -- I got to be with the man I love and the news that we were going to have a baby. These were the days that childhood dreams are made of. It's true, I hadn't fulfilled my plan as a 12-year-old to go to college, fall in love, get married, have kids, then have my career. (At 36, I was at the point where staying home alone beat a bad date out every time.) But, late in the game, I got it -- everything I wanted.
I remember the bliss. I was ten weeks pregnant. One of my girlfriends had just had two miscarriages at nine weeks. In my mind, I was home free. I started to tell people about the pregnancy and started to plan our future. Then the cramping started. A call to the doctor sent me to the emergency room on the weekend. After several hours and the cramps actually decreasing, the doctors suggested I go home. While they could do an ultrasound, it would cost extra to have the radiologist come in on the weekend. After a while more, someone realized that the radiologist was already at the hospital for another case, so sent us up for the ultrasound.
After having "good" ultrasounds -- the ones where the technician is happy to point bits out to you -- this one was clearly different. The heartbeat that we have seen just a few weeks before was simply not there. After confirmation by the radiologist and the news that the baby had stopped developing a few weeks ago, we were sent back down to the emergency room. The resident, a woman in her thirties, came in and shared the fact that she and her husband were trying to conceive and started crying. The doctor came in and explained our options from here.
After an incomplete miscarriage, a D&C, and a heavy course of antibiotics, I just wanted it all back. I wanted the bliss; the unthinking certainty that life is good. I still had this wonderful man, but it was as if someone had taken scissors to a photo of my life. I wanted the other part back. It was the part that held my future with my child and my bliss.
I remember the days following those days -- heady, wonderful days when I felt like every part of me was happy. When the inane stuff from work wasn't making me crazy because life was just too good.
Then it got better -- I got to be with the man I love and the news that we were going to have a baby. These were the days that childhood dreams are made of. It's true, I hadn't fulfilled my plan as a 12-year-old to go to college, fall in love, get married, have kids, then have my career. (At 36, I was at the point where staying home alone beat a bad date out every time.) But, late in the game, I got it -- everything I wanted.
I remember the bliss. I was ten weeks pregnant. One of my girlfriends had just had two miscarriages at nine weeks. In my mind, I was home free. I started to tell people about the pregnancy and started to plan our future. Then the cramping started. A call to the doctor sent me to the emergency room on the weekend. After several hours and the cramps actually decreasing, the doctors suggested I go home. While they could do an ultrasound, it would cost extra to have the radiologist come in on the weekend. After a while more, someone realized that the radiologist was already at the hospital for another case, so sent us up for the ultrasound.
After having "good" ultrasounds -- the ones where the technician is happy to point bits out to you -- this one was clearly different. The heartbeat that we have seen just a few weeks before was simply not there. After confirmation by the radiologist and the news that the baby had stopped developing a few weeks ago, we were sent back down to the emergency room. The resident, a woman in her thirties, came in and shared the fact that she and her husband were trying to conceive and started crying. The doctor came in and explained our options from here.
After an incomplete miscarriage, a D&C, and a heavy course of antibiotics, I just wanted it all back. I wanted the bliss; the unthinking certainty that life is good. I still had this wonderful man, but it was as if someone had taken scissors to a photo of my life. I wanted the other part back. It was the part that held my future with my child and my bliss.
