Well, the hospital and Lauren and I all survived my appointment. I really have to hand it to the hospital (and it deserves it’s own post soon), they try. They brought us in after clinic hours so that we wouldn’t encounter too many pregnant women and they hustled us in. Nothing very interesting happened. I cried, more about being in the clinic itself than about anything that was said to me. Our OB saw us quickly, took my blood pressure, we told her that I was getting support services (another post to come), and we filled her in on the genetic testing (all clear!), since she hadn’t received the report from genetics. We’re still waiting on the coroner’s report, but that will take months and isn’t likely to have any surprises. She wished us well, gave us the green light to try again when we feel ready, we gave her thank you cards for the nurses that took care of us in the hospital, and we were on our way.
And I feel strangely let down, in a way that I did not anticipate and can’t explain.
This pregnancy is over.
There aren’t any more appointments.
There aren’t any more answers.
There’s nothing to do now but…go. Just learn to live with this as part of our narrative. We will always be people who lost their first child. That will always be our story.
I know that it’s not the end of our story. We will try for another baby, and odds are that all will be well. We will always miss our son, but good things will still happen to us. We will be happy again, in so many ways.
But I’m finally just sitting quietly with the truth of our loss. And it’s sad.