Today, I am not doing very well.
Yesterday, I was ok. I was laughing with people at work, I was keeping busy, I got my hair chopped off in an effort to lift my spirits (the jury is still out on whether it worked or not. And while I was getting the cut, there were THREE PREGNANT WOMEN THERE. One working, two getting cuts. And one woman who was very loudly recalling the recent birth of her son. SHUT UP.)
Today, I am falling apart. For one thing, these cramps are KILLING ME. Seriously, if I wasn’t sitting down, I’d be doubled over. OWWWWW. And I really, really did not want to go to the OB’s office for my blood draw today. I don’t know why I had to. What was the point? It’s not like the numbers were going to miraculously quadruple or something.
When the nurse called, I really lost it. “Hi Amanda, this is Sue from the doctor’s office.” Her voice was so…ugh. I don’t know know the word I’m looking for me. Like she was trying to prepare me for what I already knew. “We got your numbers back, and they dropped to 10.” Well, DUH. You don’t need to coddle me, I”m a big girl and I knew this was coming.
Then she said, “I made an appointment for you to sit down with Dr. A on March 15th at 11.” I was pretty taken aback. When I asked her why, she said, “So you can have all your questions answered.” I think I might have made an annoyed sound, and I KNOW that I rolled my eyes. I said, “I don’t have any questions, that won’t be necessary.” And then. THEN. She said, “Oh, honey.” And for some reason, something inside me snapped and I just wanted to strangle her through the phone.
She said that in the next few weeks I should call the clinic so I can go in for another blood draw, “just to be sure” that my hcg is below 2. Uh, yeah. No. I won’t be doing that. How pointless. Are they trying to torture me? Really? Nope. Not going to do it.
I’m trying my damndest not to cry. I really am. I’m at work, and I cannot DO THIS RIGHT NOW. Part of me just wants to go home, take some Advil PM, crawl under the covers, and sleep for the next 3 days. The other part wants to scream and cry and hit things and demand that someone give me a reason why this is happening to me.
And then there’s the guilt. Let me tell you about the guilt. Because at this point, I am blaming myself that this happened again. I didn’t know I was pregnant. Like an idiot, I thought I had my period. I went off the progsterone. I didn’t start the shots. I doomed my little one before I even had the chance to know I could save it. It’s my fault.
And do you know what I really wish? I wish I never would have taken that fucking pregnancy test. I wish I would have just gone on like I had gotten my period, or like it hadn’t really come yet. I wouldn’t be going through this right now. I would be able to try again in two weeks without even knowing that this had happened again.
Fuck. I just.
I hate this.