Follow-Up

Today, July 5th, I went in for a follow-up with my regular OBGYN.  I knew going into the office was going to be difficult.  It was going to be full of pregnant women.  But I thought I had mentally prepared myself.  It was harder than I thought.  There is a section of the waiting room that's kind of separate from the rest of of the waiting room and I had planned to sit in there.  We would be able to hear my name called, but wouldn't have to really be around other people in the waiting room.  When we got there, however, there was a woman and toddler taking up the whole nook.  So out into the large rest of the waiting room we went and found a seat.  The first few minutes were OK.  There were plenty of pregnant women, but I could ignore them.  I focused on my phone and checked email, Facebook, played solitaire. I could handle this.  Then a couple came out with a string of ultrasound pictures and sat right across from us.  Part of me winced, but I was OK . . . until they started talking (loudly I might add . . . isn't it proper waiting room etiquette to talk in a low voice, almost whisper?).  There were so many similarities.  They were having a girl.  The mother wasn't really showing yet, despite being around 20 weeks (just like me).  Their baby was breech.  The mother talked about how this body part looked like her, while this one looked like her husband.  I remember how excited and happy we were and how quickly things change.  Finally I couldn't take it anymore.  I leaned over to Adam and said, "I have to move, I'm going over there."  We moved to the other side of the waiting room (and I could still hear them . . . again . . . proper etiquette).  Luckily we got called back soon after moving.  I felt bad for shooting mental daggers at the happy couple to be quiet.  It's not their fault.  They have every right to be happy.  It's just hard.  I know someday I won't feel this way, today just wasn't that day.

My appointment went well.  We got a lot of questions answered but are still waiting on others.  I'll talk about the medical stuff in another post because I haven't told enough of the story of the almost two weeks in the hospital for what we talked about to make sense yet.  I just wanted to share my emotions on the day.  Now that we're home I'm doing better.

Yesterday was a good day.  It was the first day I didn't cry in the shower (that's where I do a lot of my crying, it's cathartic, I get it out and can wash it away for a bit).  Mom and I went to a friend's house for 4th of July dinner.  It was nice to get out of the house, put on real clothes (not just comfy pants and a shirt), but not deal with the public.  I was somewhere I felt comfortable with people I love.  It was such a good day I felt a little guilty.  Another friend told me not to feel that way, and I agree, but it's hard.  I still thought about her frequently and talked about her and the experience in general, but I didn't cry every time.  A few days ago I couldn't think about her face without crying, but now most of the time I feel a twinge but the tears don't flow out of control.  Of course the waves of sadness are still unpredictable.  Things can be fine and something will set me off.  That's normal I guess.  There will be good days and bad days, the goal is for the good days to outnumber the bad.