Today I had to come in to an OB appointment I scheduled to look into some issues I’ve have with my period (truthfully since my first miscarriage, but none of my OB’s offered to help me find a cause until now). Whoever thinks your PTSD lets up after you’re done TTC is wrong!
Waiting in the same room as several women, pregnant with hope and most likely unaware of the risk of stillbirth, is my literal hell. I’m squirming and screaming inside, but holding it in. Let them enjoy their naive state, I tell myself. No, I would’ve wanted to know! My heart screams to me again. The horrible tug a war ends promptly as my name is called.
As I waited for the OB to go over my ultrasound results, I prayed fervently. “Please let me be ok. My kids and husband still need me. I know you and Owen want me to keep saving babies and I have more to do before I’m back with him”. A little melodramatic for what I went in for, but anything medical related becomes a worse case scenario fear in my mind now. Thankfully all went well. No bad news today. 🙏🏼
I scurry out, keeping my gaze straight ahead to avoid locking eyes with a pregnant couple that I pass. I say a little prayer, “Lord please keep their baby safe”, and I hop into my car. The wheels couldn’t take me away faster from that office.
I look to the clouds, as I often did after losing Owen. I noticed the sun shining, much like the day I left the hospital after delivering him holding only a small box of mementos. I take this as a reminder that my boy is with me telling mommy everything is ok, we can keep going together.
Anytime I get out of an OB appointment without an awful diagnosis is a good day for me and now I’m back to attending the ISA Conference to learn how I can help others keep their babies safe!