a poker face in public

heathermummy, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

That baby is me. I'm not injured. I'm a mummy.

Today could have gone a million times better. The doctor was running two hours behind. Waiting those two hours was so nerve-wracking. I was pissed off naturally but the suspense was growing and eating me alive. My husband had to leave right after the ultrasound or he would have been late for work, but at least he was there for part of it.

Still no heartbeat. Our baby stopped growing three weeks ago. I waited to follow up with the doctor, trying my best to hold it in and save my tears for my pillow. It was hard. They referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist to maybe find out why my body hates babies so much. That's August 5th. A million years from now.

I sat outside the hospital in over-sized sunglasses still trying to hold it in. If my husband was there it would have been different because last time I kept a poker face in public so I wouldn't make him cry. Without him around, I just couldn't hold it in and I really lost it. You can cry quite a bit with sunglasses and no one knows.

A woman with a head-kerchief exited the hospital, walked past me, and then immediately swung a u-turn and came and sat next to me. If you don't know me, I don't like THAT kind of attention. Ever. But I needed this. She gave me some awesome mom hugs and we spoke while I waited for my dad to pick me up.

When she asked me what was wrong, all that I could vocalize was that my baby stopped growing and it was dead but still inside me and I was just going to go home and wait for my body to pass it. Similar to the way I expect a teenager would react, she exclaimed, "No. That sucks. They need to do something. That's not fair!!" I laughed because it was exactly the way I felt but couldn't organize my emotions. I looked at her headscarf which wasn't hiding a bad hair day... I could tell. Feeling awkward because of the attention, I asked her, why are you here today? "Oh I just have bone cancer." I told her if she had bone cancer then I seriously needed to stop crying. She shook her head and said, "I can handle cancer, but I don't think I could handle it if one of my children stopped living. You're stronger than me. God gives us exactly what we can handle." And I do believe that. And I needed to hear it.

I had a miserable night with four hours of sleep. I'm ready for my long hard cry and follow-up nap.