Holding on to Hope

I am sitting alone in a doctors office.

This is my first time here so I am nervous.

I know that I am pregnant.  A home test and a test by my PCP have proven that.  But I have to take yet another test so that this doctor knows for sure.

I sit in the exam room and wait.  The doctor comes in and confirms what I already know.  I am pregnant.

I am not far enough along for a heart beat to be heard.

I explain to the doctor that this is my third pregnancy.  I let him believe that the first two pregnancies were miscarriages, even though with the second pregnancy I had an abortion.  I am too ashamed of this fact to tell the doctor the whole truth.

He tells me that since I have a history of miscarriage that at my next appointment an ultrasound will be done just to make sure that everything is going as it should be.

I leave feeling optimistic.  Hopeful that this time everything will be OK.

I go about my normal routine.  Waiting for the next appointment.  I speak with Randall several times every day on the phone. He is still in Texas and I am in Ohio.  This is his baby.  The result of our first meeting when I went to visit him.

We are making plans.

We are happy.

I am hopeful.

I spend a lot of time talking to the baby.  Rubbing my tummy.  Stuffing a pillow under my shirt to see how I will look when my tummy is big and round with baby.

The night before my next appointment, I take a bath.  I try to relax.  I rub my belly and talk to the baby.  Tell her how much I love her.  Tell her how much her daddy loves her.  Tell her to please be strong and please be OK.

I am hopeful.

The next day I am sitting in the same exam room as before.  Waiting to see the doctor.  He comes in and we go through the normal chit-chat.  He tries to listen for a heartbeat and finds none.

I am taken to the ultrasound room.  I am left alone for a few minutes.  I am nervous.

The tech comes in and does what needs to be done.  I try to look at the screen.  The tech really doesn't want me looking.  I catch a glimpse of my little bean.  Although I really have no clue what I am looking at.

The tech says nothing.

I am still nervous.  But am holding on to a thin string of hope.

The doctor comes in and asks if the tech said anything to me.  I shake my head.  He wavers just an instant, tells me to get dressed and says to meet him in his office.

I am a ball of emotions.  Somehow I manage to pull my clothes on.  Somehow I manage to walk down to his office.

I sit in a chair in front of a big oak desk and wait.  I am on pins and needles.  The string of hope I had been holding onto has broken.

The doctor finally walks in and sits down.  He looks at me.  I must look as pitiful as I feel.

He takes a breath and delivers the news.

"I'm sorry but there was no heartbeat.  You have miscarried."


Completely and utterly devastated.

I can not contain myself and burst into sobbing tears.

The doctor hands me tissues.  Tries to console me.  Tells me that I need to be scheduled for surgery.  Tells me that since this is my third miscarriage, he will do tests to see exactly what the cause is.

I pull myself together enough to walk through the waiting room and out to the car where my step-dad has been waiting.

I guess he can tell by looking at me that something is wrong.  He asks if everything is alright.  I shake my head.  Tears are stinging my eyes.

I am devastated.

I have to get home.  I have to call Randall.  How do I tell this man that I miscarried his baby?

I worry that since there is no baby that he will not want to be with me any more.

All the plans we were making have collapsed.

I dial his number and hold my breath.  He answers.  I tell him everything.

I am a babbling mess of tears and emotions.

He tells me to calm down.  Everything will be fine.

As if he can read my mind he also tells me that he still loves me.  That none of this was my fault.

I am comforted.

I hang up the phone.

I see the tiny thread of hope in front of me.

I grab it and hold on.

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My Ponderings

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