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.
((hugs)) Another one who has learned a lesson from this post.
((hugs)) Another one who has learned a lesson from this post.
It is nice to know that you have such a compassionate OB office.I’m sorry you have to be on the receiving end of it. Mine was the same way with the death of my 20wk twins. Not only did they not make me wait, they put me in the one exam room without pictures of all the brand new babies in it. I knew the news was not good the second I saw the empty wall. Thank you for this post.
It is nice to know that you have such a compassionate OB office.I’m sorry you have to be on the receiving end of it. Mine was the same way with the death of my 20wk twins. Not only did they not make me wait, they put me in the one exam room without pictures of all the brand new babies in it. I knew the news was not good the second I saw the empty wall. Thank you for this post.
Big HUG. I hate that you are hurting.
Big HUG. I hate that you are hurting.
I, too, am that woman.
Except I am ‘that woman’ at the pediatrician’s office, watching all the other parents trying to wrangle their young children, while my older children and I try not to burst into tears.
We are ALWAYS ushered in first, no matter how many other patients are ahead of us, just so we don’t have to sit there and feel the pain.
What I would give to be able to wait my turn like every other momma and her child.
Hugs to you my bloggy friend.
I, too, am that woman.
Except I am ‘that woman’ at the pediatrician’s office, watching all the other parents trying to wrangle their young children, while my older children and I try not to burst into tears.
We are ALWAYS ushered in first, no matter how many other patients are ahead of us, just so we don’t have to sit there and feel the pain.
What I would give to be able to wait my turn like every other momma and her child.
Hugs to you my bloggy friend.
It’s not the same, but I remember the feeling of sitting in the waiting room after my 2nd miscarriage in 4 months, and just staring at my lap, unable to look at all the pregnant bellies around me. I don’t know which would be worse – to get the special treatment and “jump the line”…or not.
I don’t know. There is no “right” way to navigate this. No way around it but through, I guess.
Thinking of you every single day, and wishing you peace and joy, Beth.
It’s not the same, but I remember the feeling of sitting in the waiting room after my 2nd miscarriage in 4 months, and just staring at my lap, unable to look at all the pregnant bellies around me. I don’t know which would be worse – to get the special treatment and “jump the line”…or not.
I don’t know. There is no “right” way to navigate this. No way around it but through, I guess.
Thinking of you every single day, and wishing you peace and joy, Beth.
thank you for this heart-breakingly, yet beautiful, reminder. *hug*
thank you for this heart-breakingly, yet beautiful, reminder. *hug*
Oh,your story really grips my heart. I don’t even know you and just recently found your blog, but my heart aches for you.
Oh,your story really grips my heart. I don’t even know you and just recently found your blog, but my heart aches for you.
((hugs))
and lots of love…
I’m still so sorry Beth. I’m sorry that you or any other parent has/had to go through the pain and loss.
Through your words, you have helped so many other women understand and learn not to assume. This is just another example of how great you are.
Each day I think of you, James and Jake and hope that each day brings you peace, strength and love.
xoxo
CE
((hugs))
and lots of love…
I’m still so sorry Beth. I’m sorry that you or any other parent has/had to go through the pain and loss.
Through your words, you have helped so many other women understand and learn not to assume. This is just another example of how great you are.
Each day I think of you, James and Jake and hope that each day brings you peace, strength and love.
xoxo
CE
You’re doin’ it Beth. You’re pullin’ through. It has been, will continue to be tought as Hell. But you have proven again and again you are as tough as nails Girl. I am so sorry you have to be. I am so sorry you have to walk this path. I am so sorry you were given this cross to bear. You may never know why. But I hope you realize one day what an impact you have had sharing this unbearable journey so openly…
You’re doin’ it Beth. You’re pullin’ through. It has been, will continue to be tought as Hell. But you have proven again and again you are as tough as nails Girl. I am so sorry you have to be. I am so sorry you have to walk this path. I am so sorry you were given this cross to bear. You may never know why. But I hope you realize one day what an impact you have had sharing this unbearable journey so openly…
My sympathies for your loss. I think it is good that your doctor knows what you need to make your trips a bit easier. Your sharing is a true blessing.
http://www.momstop.blogspot.com
My sympathies for your loss. I think it is good that your doctor knows what you need to make your trips a bit easier. Your sharing is a true blessing.
http://www.momstop.blogspot.com
Just thinking of you today..
Just thinking of you today..
I know that I will never think twice about it again. You are a strong person and thank you for sharing this with all the world! We are learning so much from you.
I know that I will never think twice about it again. You are a strong person and thank you for sharing this with all the world! We are learning so much from you.
You are such a sweetheart! I’m so sorry you must take this painful journey in your life.
You are such a sweetheart! I’m so sorry you must take this painful journey in your life.
You have enough compassion for the entire universe…
Have you read The Last Lecture? You could write a book on your loss, and the lessons to be passed on to all of us. You look at everything in the most honest, but most unselfish way of anyone I have ever met.
Your post today and the comments left by so many are testimony to your strength and wisdom. You need to share this with the world.
Much love,
Sharon
You have enough compassion for the entire universe…
Have you read The Last Lecture? You could write a book on your loss, and the lessons to be passed on to all of us. You look at everything in the most honest, but most unselfish way of anyone I have ever met.
Your post today and the comments left by so many are testimony to your strength and wisdom. You need to share this with the world.
Much love,
Sharon
*hugs*
*hugs*
Beth–
This is the first blog of yours I have read… and it brought tears to my eyes. Having a child of my own, I know how painful it must be to have lost two. I commend you for your strength to carry on, and wish you the best!
Beth–
This is the first blog of yours I have read… and it brought tears to my eyes. Having a child of my own, I know how painful it must be to have lost two. I commend you for your strength to carry on, and wish you the best!
I am so sorry for your loss, Beth. And I am sorry that you are now ‘that woman’. But you have given a wonderful lesson to the rest of us. Thank you for that.
I am so sorry for your loss, Beth. And I am sorry that you are now ‘that woman’. But you have given a wonderful lesson to the rest of us. Thank you for that.
I just want to say how deeply sorry I am for your loss.
I too have experience grieving in Ob/Gyn offices. But not of pregnancy loss. Ever since my husband and I were told we’d be unable to get pregnant I hated Ob/Gyn offices. Hated them. Hated seeing so many pregnant women and teens, new moms. Why not me? I remember just days after we were told this horrible news I had to go into the office and get a copy of all of my files because we were moving 3000 miles away. When the receptionist told me there was a FEE to copy my files, here in front of all these pregnant women, to a grieving me, I started BAWLING. Loud, horrible bawling. In the middle of the waiting room.
I’m sorry. Your post has triggered a few memories. I don’t mean to be a comment hog.
I just want to say how deeply sorry I am for your loss.
I too have experience grieving in Ob/Gyn offices. But not of pregnancy loss. Ever since my husband and I were told we’d be unable to get pregnant I hated Ob/Gyn offices. Hated them. Hated seeing so many pregnant women and teens, new moms. Why not me? I remember just days after we were told this horrible news I had to go into the office and get a copy of all of my files because we were moving 3000 miles away. When the receptionist told me there was a FEE to copy my files, here in front of all these pregnant women, to a grieving me, I started BAWLING. Loud, horrible bawling. In the middle of the waiting room.
I’m sorry. Your post has triggered a few memories. I don’t mean to be a comment hog.
wow, I never would have thought of that. Like you said, I would have been annoyed that someone got called back sooner when I have been sitting there. you have an amazing doctor!
wow, I never would have thought of that. Like you said, I would have been annoyed that someone got called back sooner when I have been sitting there. you have an amazing doctor!
Your words are so piercing and powerful. :::LOVE::::
Your words are so piercing and powerful. :::LOVE::::
My OB is very prompt (I hardly ever have to wait for an appointment) so I Know when there’s something wrong somewhere. One time i was left sitting back in the room for 20 minutes longer than expected, and I just knew there had to be a reason. And there was — another woman had just miscarried. I of course didn’t mind at all! I can’t imagine anyone being upset that their doctor is so caring that they would take some extra time with someone in grief. That’s who I want for my doctor.
I also remember another OB (mine was on vacation) giving me an instant appointment, basically, stepping in front of what must have been a dozen other women. I was one week postpartum, and couldn’t pee. It was awful. I was in so much pain from my delivery could barely walk (I didn’t manage to walk down the stairs on a daily basis until TWO WEEKS later) and he just got me in ASAP. (Thank goodness! I wouldn’t want a week old baby with jaundice laying around in public for too long!)
I felt horrible (especially since, right at the end of my appointment, he was called to a delivery and therefore couldn’t see anyone who was waiting). Hopefully they understood!
My OB is very prompt (I hardly ever have to wait for an appointment) so I Know when there’s something wrong somewhere. One time i was left sitting back in the room for 20 minutes longer than expected, and I just knew there had to be a reason. And there was — another woman had just miscarried. I of course didn’t mind at all! I can’t imagine anyone being upset that their doctor is so caring that they would take some extra time with someone in grief. That’s who I want for my doctor.
I also remember another OB (mine was on vacation) giving me an instant appointment, basically, stepping in front of what must have been a dozen other women. I was one week postpartum, and couldn’t pee. It was awful. I was in so much pain from my delivery could barely walk (I didn’t manage to walk down the stairs on a daily basis until TWO WEEKS later) and he just got me in ASAP. (Thank goodness! I wouldn’t want a week old baby with jaundice laying around in public for too long!)
I felt horrible (especially since, right at the end of my appointment, he was called to a delivery and therefore couldn’t see anyone who was waiting). Hopefully they understood!
This post made me cry. I’m thinking about you.
This post made me cry. I’m thinking about you.
I know i’m totally late in commenting here, but i felt i just had to. especially after reading about how much comments mean to you.
your pain really comes through on this post…so much so, it’s almost palpable. it brought tears to my eyes, and put an ache in my heart. i started reading you blog a while back, then lost the link and just found it again. i want you to know, even during the past weeks that i haven’t read your blog, you’ve been on my mind and in my heart. i often wonder how you are, and what you’re doing. i hope that you are happy, that the pain is gone, and that you are surrounded by loving people. i hope you know that your baby boys are angels now, watching over your every move.
i know there is no pain like a mother’s pain, no grief like a mother’s grief, but i hope you can learn to be happy again. truly, one hundred percent happy. and always remember, there are people rooting for you, who love you and are there for you.
I know i’m totally late in commenting here, but i felt i just had to. especially after reading about how much comments mean to you.
your pain really comes through on this post…so much so, it’s almost palpable. it brought tears to my eyes, and put an ache in my heart. i started reading you blog a while back, then lost the link and just found it again. i want you to know, even during the past weeks that i haven’t read your blog, you’ve been on my mind and in my heart. i often wonder how you are, and what you’re doing. i hope that you are happy, that the pain is gone, and that you are surrounded by loving people. i hope you know that your baby boys are angels now, watching over your every move.
i know there is no pain like a mother’s pain, no grief like a mother’s grief, but i hope you can learn to be happy again. truly, one hundred percent happy. and always remember, there are people rooting for you, who love you and are there for you.
I know this is an old post, but I’ve been that woman many times, too.
Hi, I am very late – 2 years late in fact, but I just found your blog through another blog and I was poking around
This post is beautiful and heartbreaking. I will never forget the day I was sitting in the waiting room, one of the dozens of pregnant women waiting and waiting. It was so crowded that we sat over at the far end of the hall, right outside the high risk ob’s office. When the door opened, I saw a woman walk out with another woman’s arms around her (presumably her sister). Both were in tears – sobbing, struggling to walk down the length of the hall and past all the waiting mothers. I immediately began to cry. I did not know them but how they did not deserve to have to walk out of their ob’s office crying for anything except joy. That memory is forever seared in my mind.
I am so sorry for your loss. It is wonderful that you are writing and sharing your story.