Ever since losing James and Jake, I have been to my OB’s office many times. As I mentioned before, she is trying to lower by blood pressure and work out a few other medication changes. My doctor is a great doctor, an amazing woman, she keeps a close eye on me.
However good my doctor is, I can’t get over how emotionally draining it is to drive to the office, walk up to the window, sign my name and sit down.
Next to other pregnant women. Pregnant women who I can only hope know how lucky they are. Pregnant women I silently pray for, praying they will have healthy and happy pregnancies and I pray they know what a miracle their babies truly are.
Sometimes I smile at them, but mostly I sit and stare at the wall. My heart breaking, my pulse increasing, tears trying to escape my eyes. The anxiety is palpable. Painful.
But every visit since losing the twins, the nurse opens the door just moments after my arrival and says "Beth." She looks at me, deep into my eyes and says "how are you?"
I walk in, I say "fine," (although I’d love to reply with "I’m really shitty, please take this pain away, please give me my boys back. IT’S A DREAM, I KNOW IT’S A DREAM!!!!!!!") She escorts me into a little room, where I sit.
You see, it wasn’t my turn to be called back, my name was called before the rest of the patients because my doctor and her nurse do not want me to experience the agony of sitting next to other pregnant women.
So, my wait, which still exists, takes place in a sterile, cold room. I’m alone. I prefer it that way.
I often think about how I would have reacted, way back when, if a patient were called into the doctor’s office before me, after I had been waiting for too long already. I would have become angry and impatient, I certainly would have scowled.
But I will never scowl again.
I am that woman. The woman that gets called in before you.
I would give anything to be the woman who gets to wait.