A short. On the Table.

And her a nurse. A little phrase my family says often referring to a lack of knowledge in one's own profession. It sticks with me. A little voice that sounds like bee stung red lips smacking in my ear... "and her a nurse". 

I think, not now Amy, you're the patient, not the nurse. Just. be. the. patient. No, maybe the baby is the patient. But the baby is dead. The baby is dead. The baby is dead. You are still a patient even when dead, I know this. 

How can that be? I'm looking right at it. A little grey gummy bear. Is she blind? What the fuck am I missing?  Three weeks ago? Dead baby for three weeks. So it just stops growing. How can that be? Shit, where is Ryan? My own damn fault. I was supposed to pee in a cup and do the doppler. Didn't need a spectator today. Oh my God, I'm alone. Not even my little baby is with me. What was I doing 3 weeks ago? I was there and yet I missed it.  A whole life, in my body, died. And I didn't even know. And her a nurse. 

Options. Paperwork. Tissues. It's Thursday already? Ella needs to be picked up. I want to lay down. Removal? Wait wait wait. Is she sure? I need to see it again. Walk me through this please. Doppler...reminds me of tv- constant noise with irritating volume spikes when a commercial comes on. Where the hell is the heartbeat? Maybe this baby is a squirmer. Abdominal ultrasound? Sure doc, I love to see the baby. She's not convinced? Of what? This is nuts. Transvaginal? Privacy to change? Really doc... I think you've seen it all. Let me see that baby. There's my little bear. Ok if I dim the lights? Well I'd prefer it. All the better to see my own internal movie. I wish Ryan could see. What is she talking about? Amy, the baby died. So this is how they tell you? 

Heaving, embarrassing sobs. Let me off this table. I need to be in a chair. Sit like a lady. Pull yourself together. This happens all the time. Why is she turning that damn light on? I feel like I'm in an interrogation. I don't know when's a good time. Sure, tomorrow at noon. I might vomit. More papers. Please don't look at me. Let me be, let me be, let me be. Oh no. Ryan. I have to tell Ryan. Poor Ryan. Poor sweet Ryan. 

Stop this mess. You are ridiculous. You're going to scare all these little mommies. You have one. One very beautiful, very kind, very funny, charming little sunshine of a girl. It will be enough. Enough? Well it will be. Stand in line. Freakin fair skin. So damn blotchy. Bet this baby would have been fair. Of course it would have been. Been. Stop it now. Save it for your bed. Bitch in line thinks I'm cutting. FUUUUUCKKKK YOU! I'm not cutting. I can't even see you in line. I can't see much of anything at the moment. Tissue shreds in my hand. Can't they get some decent tissues in here? Effing reps with cheap tissues. 

My car. Thank you Jesus. Personal space. Take a minute. Prioritize. Make the call. Brief. Mumbles. Tears. Meet at home. Just get home. More space. More privacy. I want a Diet Dr. Pepper. With Sonic ice. I want to lay down. I want to be invisible. I want a little time with my dead baby. I bet it was a girl. Was. Devastating. 

But it gets better over time. It's not always devastating. It was. Was. I get the logic. Uh- huh, wasn't meant to be. Shitty saying. I've used it a lot. Probably true, but shitty all the same. Happens more than we know. Uh-huh, sure does. Still hurts though. 12 weeks you say? The magic number. So it's not as real before lucky number 12? It doesn't hurt as much? No. Grief is easier in solitaire? I'm not so sure. I know there's a lot of us. It's ok to say it. Bad juju? I don't think so. Just misfortune. 

**A quick note. I wrote this because it was one of my worst days. And I know a lot of people with a similar worst day. I wanted to share it. This happened in October of 2010. I was due on Mother's Day, May 8th, 2011. This time of year makes me think of it. I'm really at peace now. I'm very blessed to have Rhett Jameson who was born last September, but I believe I came to terms with my lack of control in this baby making process not long after I miscarried the baby. I think peace, in anything, is all you can really hope for.