I know that when you lose someone, whether a pregnancy or a parent or someone you love, part of the grieving process is ANGER and you want to lash out at someone and find someone to blame. The thing is that I'm not looking for someone to blame or to push all of this responsibility on. I really and truly feel that my doctor was NOT on top of things. Read past posts (and Mel's comments--- she already fired my doctor in the last one).
First of all, I have a fertility issue in which she prescribed Me.tformin. She refuses to increase the dosage even though I'm taking the bare minimum (1000mg) and it's not having any effect at all. That, or her nurse doesn't even talk to her when I call to ask about it.
Second, she gave me Cl.omid and did not monitor me while I was on it (it says on the label that a doctor must monitor you throughout your cycle while taking it). I've seen other women who weren't monitored so I thought nothing of it but then realized my doctor is NOT a fertility specialist.
Third, when I called to even tell her I was pregnant I wanted to be on progesterone right away (because of the previous cycles using Clomid--- it can thin out the uterine lining). No one got back with me. I find out she's on vacation and will be back in a week.
The nurse taking over told me if prog. goes below 15 THEN we'll supplement. When it went below 15 they refused to give me a prescription for the progesterone supplements until I started bleeding (believe me, I ASKED for it) and it was an on-call doctor who prescribed it; not my regular OBGYN. By then it was too late. My levels had already started to drop.
Am I just crazy? Am I just LOOKING for someone to b---- at and blame? Or do I really have a sound case here that I need to address? I just woke up from a terrible nightmare about all of this so I'm probably a little more emotional. I just can't get it out of my head that the sono tech wrote, "FETAL DEMISE" on my report. Who is responsible for my baby's "demise"? I've already written my doctor a Dear John letter in my mind.
This wasn't supposed to happen. It just wasn't. How can you try for so long, decide to move on from it, and then get pregnant? Then have that all stripped away? The agony I am in is indescribable. I know I was only 7 weeks but in my mind this was supposed to be my son or daughter. I was already dreaming of their birth, of holding them, of placing them in the bassinet that is now sitting empty in the attic. The 4th of July happens to be my favorite holiday because it reminds me the most of my mom. Now it is going to be filled with even more sadness, in that respect.
So yesterday I had a To Do List. I wanted to stay busy. Unfortunately I couldn't do it all. The pain become so unbearable (I didn't take any pain reliever until 6pm) that I could only sit and whimper after doing quite a bit. Think labor pain, only not AS painful. Anyway, on my To Do List I was going to take upstairs all the baby stuff I had dragged to Bumble Bee's closet.
I was going to go through it, sort it. During the joyous time of this pregnancy I would look through the boxes and daydream. During the confusing and fearful time I'd sob and hold onto the sweet little stuffed treasures I'd carefully picked out. Now I avoid her closet like the plague and if I need something in there I keep my eyes up and away from where the boxes and packs of diapers still lay. I opened the newborn size diapers weeks ago and showed Butterfly how tiny they were compared to Bumble Bee's diaps.
The pregnancy tests are still in my u.nderw.ear drawer. I can't even bare to open the drawer but since I need to everyday I just quickly open and grab up something and slam it shut without looking inside. I am not ready to pack those up and move them, or to throw them away. There were a few times that I reached in and just held them without looking at them, clutched in a fist. That's probably what kills me the most. Re-living the appearance of that second line! How shaky, nervous, thrilled, and excited I WAS just makes me all the more bitter.
And my pregnancy journal that I started. Already filled up many pages of notes, dreams, ideas, letters to the little one. I can't read it, but I did add an extra entry last night even though there's no one that will cherish it as their own now. No one to read it except my daughters who shouldn't have to read about their mother's anguish.
Daniel doesn't want to tell Butterfly because he knows she'll repeat it over and over. It's not about her telling anyone. He says he doesn't want to hear her little voice say over and over, "Our baby is with Jesus" or whatever she'd say. Last night I had to hold him as he cried. He held each of our daughter's as tears rolled down his face. Butterfly said to him, "I'm not sad. Mommy didn't yell at me. I'm not sad." It made us both laugh.
So the other night we watched Stargate Continuum to distract ourselves and had lots of laughs at all the antics and inside jokes. It's when you get upstairs to get ready for bed and you're just laying in the dark that you're assaulted with so many dark thoughts. I'm really, REALLY good at looking fine and content on the outside if I need to (think: self preservation in social circles) so I'm sure to anyone dropping by they'd be none-the-wiser. It feels good to have a place to say all of this, even if no one reads all of the words. I know it's really long-winded.
Thank you again for your prayers and encouragement. I read each and every single comment, though I have not commented back to anyone, and each of them is very touching and cherished.