2 Week Check-Up

I woke up this morning feeling very sad and not wanting to face what I had to face today. It is been two weeks since I had the D&E done and I knew that I would have to come back today for my check-up. We’d scheduled it before the D&E took place…when we came back in the afternoon. I’m sure you’re thinking…what? You had to go back to that place? Yeah, my thoughts exactly. But, we were told it was necessary to make sure that my uterus had contacted down to a smaller size.

Begrudgingly I got up at 7:10a and I went and took a shower/got myself ready for the day. After I was already I went upstairs to wake up Isla and get her ready for school. She was happy to see my face and I was happy to see hers. She’s so very sweet in the morning…cuddles, kisses, and whispers. But…in the back of my mind, I was sad and scared because I knew as soon as I dropped her off at school I would have to get back in my car and drive to a place I never wanted to see again.

The whole way there I cried and although probably not safe (because it was and still is pouring rain), I texted back-and-forth with Alberto about the things that were going through my head. The thoughts that I was having and the emotions I was feeling and about my fear of going back to this place. In a short period of time (you know, that whole Friday light thing) I parked in a parking garage and since I was about 25 minutes early, I sat there for a while I continued texting back-and-forth with Alberto. Eventually 9a (my appt time) was approaching and I had to get out of my car and walk from the parking garage to the clinic. 

When I got there, I was still 5 minutes early, which was fine. I pressed the button to let them know that I had arrived. They asked what my name was, I told them and they buzzed me in. What a terrible feeling. The last time I was here, I came to terminate the life of my child and here I am today, childless, and in this waiting room...again, fighting back tears while waiting for them to call my name. Call my name they did, and I walked alone through the main hall of this place and to my horror, straight back to the room that I was in the last time I saw my baby alive. ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME?!?! Next thing I knew the woman was asking me that dreaded question "how are you?". 

Can I just say...I hate that question. I'll never understand why in situations like this people ask that question, because, the answer is something you don't want to hear, TRUST ME. The answer is something that you're not prepared to hear. THE ANSWER is not a simple yes or no. So please do me a favor…if you know someone who's going through a situation like this (or any kind of situation where they are grieving a loss), do not ask them that question. You really already know the answer, because, chances are, it’s written all over their face. So, please just don't ask the question. 

Since I had to give her some response I simply said the answer to that question is not a simple one, which is the truth, and that was all I was prepared to say. Then she said “well, why don’t we start with how you’re doing physically?” I told her that I was fine…some bleeding, some cramping, some insomnia. But, mostly I was fine. She shook her head and then asked me if I have plans to see my regular doctor or if I'd made an appointment to see my regular doctor, and I told her no. She kind of made that sound that someone makes when they are disappointed (was I supposed to make an appointment?) and then she asked me if I felt like I was depressed (See? I told you…it’s written all over a person’s face). I didn’t answer, and, instead, told her the genetics counselor that we worked with gave us the number of a grief counselor and I had planned on making that phone call today. She was pleased with that. Next she asked me to undress myself only on the bottom and when I was ready, she would come back to check to make sure that my uterus had contracted down to a smaller size. She came back, I laid down, and she did the exam. She said that everything felt great, that my uterus was nice and small again and that I was good to go. She made some small talk about Kaiser and about Mother Joseph Plaza (which is where our genetic counselor and Kaiser’s perinatology dept is located) and then said once I put my clothes back on that I was free to go. I got myself dressed and I walked out of that place for what I hope is the last time. 

I hope to never have to step foot in that place or a place like that ever again in my life.