I Should Be Grateful

I had my first appointment with the Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist today. I saw him with Charlie and I saw him with Hannah and his peaceful manner and soft spoken voice keep me calm and make appointments soothing - it's all going to be ok. My OB has told me he is overly cautious, so when he says "Everything is good" I know that statement doesn't come lightly.

Running late as usual, Brent dropped me off at the hospital door while he went to park. I charged through the doors, thinking only that I need to hear a heartbeat and not thinking that it was my first time back at the hospital since Hannah. The last time I walked in there, I was laughing at myself for overacting about what I thought was a lazy baby. And the last time I left there it was with empty arms and a shattered soul.

So maybe it's good that I didn't think about it ahead of time. But running through that door, the smell, the sounds, sights. It all hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to stop short because all my breath was suddenly gone. I stumbled down the long hallway, trying not to panic, trying not to cry. But that was the longest, shortest walk of my entire life. Suddenly I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to face where I've been and where I'm going. I wanted to turn around and run home and bury myself under my duvet and stay there. It was all too shocking and too real.

I should be grateful that my doctor knew exactly what I needed to hear before I knew I needed to hear it. I should be grateful that this little baby got a clean bill of health. I should be grateful that this busy, busy doctor said to come every week after 30 weeks, that he would make time because he knows how we feel. I should be so, so grateful.

But instead I feel numb. Because again we have to face the reality of what happened. Now, coming up on the first anniversary of  her loss, we were forced to face the cold medical details of our family's loss.