Apparently the doctor was more honest with him than me about the seriousness of the situation. I leared that he was told before I went into surgery that I could loose a fallopian tube, an ovary, or both, and it really scared him.
Its weird what I do remember in detail to this day. I remember the uniform I was wearing the day I lost the baby. It was a bright cheery green scrub set. I don't wear it to this day because it brings me back to that horrible lunch hour when everything began to fall apart. I should get rid of it, but instead it hangs in my closet, a reminder of what once was.
I remember the song that played in the car when my friend and I left the doctors office after that dreadful ultrasound. After I learned it was over. It was "Do I" by Luke Bryan. That song makes me shiver to this day.
The first two weeks after surgery were filled with constant blood draws waiting for the pregnancy hormone (HCG) to fall out of my system, confirming that the pregnancy was over. Finally on January 2nd my level was 2, which is considered not pregnant. And, on January 4th I had my final appointment with my doctor. I remember looking at crazy pictures of my reproductive organs and my doctor saying to me, “this was a fluke, I expect great things from you.” I cried in his office. I cried about the baby I lost, and about the nagging fear that either this would happen to me again, or I would never conceive again. I wanted to start trying right away. Looking back, I know it was because deep down I knew the grieving I was about to feel, and I thought filling the emptiness with a new baby would make it dissipate. That didn’t happen.
- “it’ll be ok, you’ll have a baby when it’s the right time.”
- “everything happens for a reason.”
- “obviously something was wrong, so the baby wasn’t healthy.”