The Foxhole. Part 2.

You have to know that when I posted on Friday I did it under some intense emotions. I wanted to tell you all every single word the doctor had spoken to me and how they had made me wait forever on that cold metal table with everything taken off "from the waist down" and wrapped only in a sterile white sheet. I wanted to...

But I couldn't.

I was so tired. And so spent. And so stinkin' mad.

My appt. was at 8:15 that morning and as is typical form for me I arrived 15 minutes late. Which they didn't seem bothered by. Thank goodness.

They took me back to the ultrasound room and explained that today's ultrasound would be to see just how far along I was and to see the heartbeat. The AG and I were immediately terrified and thrilled all at once. But first they had to ask me some questions.

Question #1: First date of last menstrual cycle? "Uhhh...okay, let me see, it would have been a couple days before we went to the beach with the Freeman's because Ronnie said something that totally made me so mad and I wanted to claw his eyes out but David just whispered in my ear, 'I think you need to take a Midol.' So yes, I think it was June 1."

Question #2: How many times have you been pregnant before? "Three."

Question #3: Does that include this time? "No. If you include this time that would be four."

Question #4: And how many babies do you have? "Uhhh...none."

Question #5: Okay, let's see you've had four pregnancies and no babies? "Yes, if you include this pregnancy I have had four total pregnancies. And if you are asking how many babies I left the hospital with and took home and stuck a sign in my front yard announcing? None."

Question #6: But what about her? (They look at Remi) "She's adopted."

Interject here the slight tilt of head, half frownie face and "sorry, hon" that accompanies most responses to the above mentioned questions. I hate half frownie faces. And I really hate the word "hon."

Which leads me to the part where we - UNFORTUNATELY - had the Remster with us in the office because we couldn't find anyone to keep her that morning and we felt like we had everything pretty much under control:
1. DVD player w/The Adventures of Winnie the Pooh loaded and ready to go? Check.
2. Apple Dippers? Check.
3. Sippy Cup? Check.
4. Princess Daisy Barbie? Check.

What could possibly happen in that room that would distract her from the veritable onslaught of spoiledness that we had prepared for her. HA! If we only knew.

52 minutes later the doctor walks in the room. 52 MINUTES LATER. Didn't anyone tell him we were stuck in there with a 2 year old? But you can't blame him, really. He's precious. And so you just have to let his lateness slide. He was probably helping an old woman cross the street or rescuing a kitten. I mean seriously, he's just that kind of guy.

When he walks in the room the first thing he says is, "Good morning Melissa, I'm sorry to keep you waiting but I am hoping you can show me some twins this morning. I am needing another set of twins to add to my list." And at that moment I really wanted to help him out. I really wanted to look at the screen and see two. I thought that would be just the piece of wonderful we needed.

And then, silence.

I hate that part. The part where they are doing the ultrasound and he's looking but not saying a word and the nurse is looking and not saying a word. And neither of them will look directly at you. And all you can hear in the room is silence except for Pooh saying, "I'm just a little black rain cloud, of course." A little black rain cloud.

"Okay, Melissa, what we see here is the sac. And what we see hear is the embryo."

My heart is beating fast. The AG is holding my hand so hard it is starting to hurt.

"Now what we see here is your pulse and so it seems to be distorting the picture just a little..."

Yeah, yeah, keep going.

"But what we don't see is a heartbeat."

Huh?

"If there were a heartbeat we would see it beating largely right here. It would be huge and very evident and I see no sign of it."

And then it was over for me.

I know he said a lot more. A LOT MORE. I know his knowledgeable medical talk was salt and peppered with "I'm sorry." I do remember that. I remember the nurse walked out eventually. And I remember telling myself not to cry. But I remember laughing at myself for even suggesting I was that strong.

And then I remembered that as crappy as this was - I had been through worse. I had to pick out a coffin for pete's sake. I can do just about anything.

But I'm all talk. And so I cried.

And then he told us to go home. Take two weeks and come back and we'd look one more time and that maybe things would change. I asked him if he was being kind. He smiled at me. I knew that meant he was. He said that hopefully in two weeks, "nature would take its course." I knew what that meant - go home and wait.

Wait to lose what you'd waited for.
Wait to lose what you'd hoped for.
Wait to lose what you'd named.

We're supposed to go back in two weeks to see if things have changed. But there's no heartbeat - so I know he's just being kind.

Little black rain cloud, indeed.

And then, just before he went to leave I asked the question all of us who have walked that road have wanted to ask but dared not.

"Will you look just one more time?"

Huh?

"Will you check just one more time? Just in case you missed something. Just in case you were wrong."

Of course I will, Melissa, I would be happy to. Just let me get my nurse in here.

She walks in and sees what we're doing and I tell her, "Don't make fun of me when I leave."

Huh?

"Don't make fun of me for having you all do this again. Don't laugh at me for wanting to see something different. Okay? Promise you won't laugh at me."

Melissa...

And as I lay back on that cold, metal table tears are streaming down my face. I can't hide them. I tried and failed. Big deal. And as I suddenly realize how weak I am I decide to screw it. And I bawl. And suddenly, with Pooh still giggling in the background Remi crawls up beside me...

"Nooooo...don't cry mama. Don't cry mama. I'm fine mama. You're fine mama."

I know Remi.

"Don't cry mama. Okay?"

Okay, Remi.

And she lays her head on my cold, wet shoulder. And from her player in the corner I hear...

"So promise me Pooh that you will always remember, you're braver than you believe,and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

"I promise, Christopher Robin. I promise."