It’s nearing midnight. We’re preparing for surgery and the nurse is asking questions rapid fire. I’m dazed and in shock. It’s happening so fast I respond in the only way I know how.
“Do you have any heart issues?”
“And blood issues?”
It’s coming out? Rapidly.
“Mental or psychological issues?”
Self deprecating humor as a form of defense?
That’s right. I’m in the ER, 12 weeks pregnant and hemorrhaging badly. They are rolling me into surgery for an emergency D&C to stop the bleeding and I’m answering the nurses questions in a flippant way as I try not to cry. Gotta be strong. Why?
Who. The Fuck. Knows.
Please just give me a shot of something in the IV and let me wake when it’s long over.
DaddyO and I had done IVF again and where amazed and thrilled with our success. AGAIN. Two and Two! Truthfully, I also felt a little guilty as getting pregnant was so easy, albeit, very expensive. We didn’t really fit in the fertile couples world, but certainly didn’t fit in the infertile couples world either. Once again, we are in our own little world.
Except this pregnancy didn’t follow the same fun path of symptoms as any of my previous pregnancies. Not much morning sickness. No super sonic sense of smell. No deep crazy need to sleep. Just a feeling of being worn down. I chocked it all up to maybe it’s a girl, or maybe I’m just lucky this time… but now I wonder, even though we had seen the heartbeat twice… if there was something wrong from the beginning.