The OB's Office

Since yesterday I had to go there I thought now would be a good time to reflect on this.

Going to the OBs office sucks donkey butt.

Even yesterday, four months post losing Colton, it was like walking into the abyss of hell. I was bitchy all morning and on edge. The drive up there I was white-knuckled. And sitting in the waiting room I wanted to punch everyone in there. Especially the perky little girls with their big old bellies, oblivious to the fragile state they are really in.

Expecting and New Parent magazines are everywhere and it's difficult to not grab and shred them one by one. Or hurl them across the room in a fit of rage.

BUT, of course I didn't. I smiled politely at the preggo lady across from me. And I started at the tv on the wall to distract myself.

Then of course the real challenge begins... Being called back into a room. And entering the hallway. The hallway that has "THAT" door at the end. The ultrasound room door. The room I saw my son on the screen without a heartbeat.

Needless to say, my blood pressure was through the roof. I have been testing it at home and it's been nice and low. Not when I'm there. After that my nurse walked me down the hallways. Past THAT room, then past the NST room, where we couldn't find his heartbeat, all the way back to a secluded room in the back.

The only saving grace of this visit was my doctor. My wonderful, compassionate doctor. I really don't remember much of the visit; I just laid in a daze as he did what he needed to do. But before he left the room he looked at me and said what I needed to hear:

"I know it's so hard to be here, Jennifer. Thank you for coming in and I hope it does get easier."

He did it. He did what so few will do. He acknowledged my pain. He recognized that though the world around me keeps turning, I am standing still. And the pain and anguish is like a fresh cut with the tiniest of scabs, and that is one place the scab is ripped off.

Most people don't say anything, though. I read once that people won't mention it for fear of reminding you. Trust me, you don't ever forget what has happened, what you have lost.

So, after being so upset about being there, after wanting to run thrashing out of there, my OB gave me a moment of grace and love and comfort.

I still couldn't get out of there fast enough, though .. .. ..