There will be times in your life when you can’t make sense of what is going on. Times when everything around you crumbles & you’re left with doubt. In the world. With God. With everything.
I use to believe everything happened for a reason. I did that up until today. Before then, I geniually held on to the fact that there was a greater meaning behind it all. One that I just couldn’t see.
When we found it we were pregnant, we were over the moon & full of shock. When my Mamaw died the next day, I thought, maybe, God knew I needed a miracle to make it through this life without her. A life without the constant reassurance & unshakable love. & then today happened.
We got back up from the beach & I had some brown spotting. It was quite a lot but still not red, not even pink really, just brown. I messaged it to a long time friend of mine who happens to be a nurse & even she felt it wasn’t concerning. It was brown, after all. When we called my OB’s line, they were a little more concerned & urged us to go to the ER. So we did.
We waited & waited. I was finally called back by a lady who reminds me of Steph from The Fosters. She checked me in while a gruff ass hole asked me some questions. “How tall are you?” “5.2.5.” “So 5’3.”
Why don’t you just take it from here then, dipshit.
I was given two massive Dassani bottles to drink & waited some more for bloodwork and an uktrasound. After giving half my weight in blood, we went back to, you guessed it, waiting some more. After over an hour, I was finally called back to radiology & had to go alone as no one was allowed to go back with you. The tech did both an abdominal & transvaginal ultrasound. She’d asked if I’d been pregnant before, at least the third time someone asked me that very question that day. Followed by the dreaded, “any children?”
Finally! As we went back, I was consumed by dread. The brown spotting had stopped but my back had started to hurt and I was shaking. I’d done that before.
A chirpy lady with red hair popped in the room to ask for urine & for me to get naked in case I needed a pelvic exam. Scott helped me pull my pants off & I shivered some more with less clothing to keep me warm. As we waited for her to go get my bloodwork results, we listened to the saws & drilling of the nearest ER we could find.
After what seemed like forever, she came back. I was almost asleep at that point. She sat down & began with, “I got the results back & the HCG level did drop.”
My heart sank. She could’ve stopped right here because that’s all I needed her to say.”
“It’s 13 now. There’s really no need to do the pelvic exam at this point. I’m sorry,” and something about getting our discharge papers.
So here we are. After what we thought was FINALLY, finally, the end to our infertility woes, here we are again. With nothing. Except thebellyband thing is bought for my pants & no longer need. Something else I may as well take back to the store. Again.
& it makes me really angry at a lot of things. Especially at God. I don’t understand why on earth we got a positive pregnancy test the day of our new RE appointment. The day before my Mamaw died. I don’t understand why I’d hang on to the only thing getting me through her death & then have that taken away just like her.
I don’t understand why addicts & women who drink when they’re pregnant can have several children when I didn’t have a sip of caffeine since that positive pregnancy test. I don’t understand any of that. & I probably never will.
It’s a strange thing to be so angry at God &, at the same time, cling to the fact that Mamaw is with him. Yet, here I am…feeling & thinking both simultaneously.