Friday, August 31, 2012

"I'm so sorry"

I have no idea how to properly respond to this sentiment, as I learned quickly over the past couple of days. Do you say 'I know?' 'thank you?' Do you give a weird nod? Look away? I happened to use all of the above and more probably inappropriate responses. Luckily, I haven't had much experience in this p until this point in my life.

Wednesday I went in for my dating ultrasound. I was pretty excited to see the little dot on the screen and hear that crazy heartbeat. I knew something might not be right when I leaned up to get a peek at the screen and the tech immediately turned it away and told me to lie back down, that she would show me the screen eventually. After a while, she recommended the endovaginal ultrasound. For those unfamiliar, as I was, it's that dildo camera that they use "to get a better look," as the tech put it. I asked her if she could see anything. "That's not for me to say."

Strike two.

After she violated me with that stupid wand, she left the room and said the doctor (not my doctor) would be back to talk to me. She came back to the room and told me I needed to go to my doctor's office immediately. I asked her if something was wrong. "Just go there, now."

I walked out to my car trying to stay positive. It must be a mistake. I bet this lady doesn't know what the hell she's doing. What do you mean she couldn't see anything? She poked around in there for a half hour. Couldn't see anything? Bullshit. So I called my doctor's office and told them what happened. The woman on the other end of the phone agreed with me that it all seemed weird and that she hadn't received anything from the ultrasound place. She said she'd call me back.

When she did, her tone was different. Just like the ultrasound lady, she told me to come to the office in a monotone voice. I asked her if we could do this over the phone. I was stupidly concerned with a meeting I had to go to at work. She said, "I suggest you blow off your meeting. And call someone at your job and tell them you won't be in for the rest of the day."

Strike three.

So where does that leave me? Still in the parking lot, not knowing if there's a baby in my body, if it's alive, how long I have left to live... Basically the definition of being left hanging. I drove off to my doctor's office, where I had to again sit in a waiting room wondering what the fuck was going on.

After what felt like a week, I was called into an exam room. One of the doctors came in and explained to me that I had what was called a molar pregnancy. Quick background, something goes wrong at conception, and the fertilized egg never turns into a baby. It turns into a cluster of cells that keeps multiplying at an alarming rate, that could turn into cancer. A "mole." I had a "mole" in my body that could potentially turn into cancer, which is pretty fucking disturbing if you ask me. Add that to trying to process the fact that I would not actually become a mother again in about seven months. And then add in the fact that the doctor immediately started to schedule me for surgery. The granola bar I dug out of the bottom of my purse in the waiting room bought me another day for that one though.

So that's what happened to me yesterday. I had surgery. Like, real surgery. It went fine, and I'm not in any pain today. Yesterday I felt lucky. A lot of people have to go through this, and they don't have the world's most awesome little boy waiting at home for them afterwards. It's kind of impossible to be sad around my kid. A lot more people still have to deal with awful diseases. As I sat in the recovery room, I thought about that and about how lucky I was to be able to just get up and walk out.

Today I don't feel so lucky. I feel angry, which I guess is a normal stage of grief. I'm pissed that this happened to me. I even kind of went through a bit of denial this morning as I was waking up. I had the fleeting though that maybe there was also a real baby in there, and they missed it wen they did the D&C. I know how ridiculous that is. And I also know it's probably very normal to think things like that.

Now I have to get tested every month for a year to make sure they got all of the mole cells out and that it doesn't come back. This whole thing has been interesting to say the least. Not good, at all. And after all that, I still don't know how to react when someone tells me they're sorry.


  1. This was my very first reaction to my m/c. I still honestly have zero idea how to respond. Say, "thanks" or "yeah" they're both awkward. Ugh, hugs lady!

  2. I love you, that's all I can say. :(

  3. I can honestly say I don't know how to react either. I don't know if you know what happened to me but either way it's awkward and I usually try to move on to another topic straight away. But that's my genetic reprression mechanism taking control.


let's get awkward!