I knew my follow-up 2 weeks post D&C appointment with my midwife would be emotional. She’d been gone when it actually happened, and I knew she was just going to be too nice…she would pat my knee and hug me and I would cry. And I did and we were both good with that. She was kind, compassionate, and had lots of tissues ready. It brought back the day of the D&C, and all the feels, but I was prepared for that.
This week I made an appointment for my annual check up with my internal medicine doc. I see him because I like to have someone keep an eye on my lab work, and to have someone to call when I get sick or injured. And I felt ready to see him–I’ve been feeling pretty good lately, strong, optimistic. I knew the miscarriage would probably come up as they review the “problems” screen or whatever, but I was good with that. I knew what I’d say–it sucked, and we’re doing better. To be honest, I’m sort of done thinking about it for right now…I’m ready to think about a future pregnancy, new possibilities, which baby carrier we’ll buy (I may have purchased one this morning since it was a print I HAVE to have).
So when the nurse was walking me to the scale (oh…the dreaded scale) and said “Congratulations!! I see that you’re pregnant!” I was not prepared. Not. in. the. least. It felt a lot like the first drop on a roller coaster…my stomach lurched and I felt woozy for just a second. I was glad I had words quickly…”No, I’m not. We had a miscarriage about a month ago.”
It wasn’t her fault, and I’m not mad. I know she felt bad because she quickly apologized and then talked nonstop through the blood pressure and med review and all the other preliminaries. And that was fine with me. It felt like I was moving backward in time to right after it happened, the feeling of hurt and loss and just trying to keep it together so you don’t break down and cry in public (again).
I was just telling Elisha that I’ve felt so much more stable in the past couple of weeks, and who knows if that’s because of stabilized hormones or working through the grief, or a combination of both. But there are reminders, little jabs that I feel viscerally–an email about how big your baby is now (unsubscribe), or Amazon suggesting a sleepsack to add to your registry. I’ve been reflecting on those reminders since I came home this afternoon…they totally suck. But, although they take your breath away with how much they hurt, there is something sacred about them. Because in each reminder there are two things–a reminder of that tiny baby, the one you carried, that was going to be yours, and the fact that you lost it. The reminders are you connection to this little life that was with you if only briefly. For some reason Barbara Taylor’s Alters in the World comes to mind where she says this:
“You can get lost on your way home. You can get lost looking for love. You can get lost between jobs. You can get lost looking for God. However it happens, take heart. Others before you have found a way in the wilderness, where there are as many angels as there are wild beasts, and plenty of other lost people too. All it takes is one of them to find you. All it takes is you to find one of them. However it happens, you could do worse than to kneel down and ask a blessing, remembering how many knees have kissed this altar before you.”