I’m sitting at the doctor’s office waiting to see a new doctor. This makes me anxiety rise up into my throat. I’ve never liked doctors, but now… It’s just so much worse.
I can feel my heart racing. The fact that I’m literally surrounded by no less than 10 pregnant women is not helping.
I’m waiting to find answers.
I’m waiting to find a glimmer of hope that history will not repeat itself.
I’m waiting to find out when we can stop waiting.
I’m just waiting…
The doctor is running behind. She had to go do a c-section, the receptionist announces to the crowed waiting room. There goes my anxiety again.
I just know my blood pressure will be high. I try to take deep breaths. I listen to the chatter around me. I hear the words that make me cringe: due date, ultrasound, delivery. My head is foggy. I’m trying hard to not be the crazy girl crying in the waiting room. Don’t they know how quickly it can all fall apart? Don’t they know that your heart can be torn apart at any moment? I want to yell. I want them to understand. Maybe they do. 1 in 4. It keeps going through my brain – 1 in 4. How many others in this room have had their soul crushed?
Finally the nurse calls my name. She asks what brought me in today. My eyes instantly feel with tears and I cry as I begin to tell our tale. She leaves, whispering that she’s so sorry as she closes the door.
Once again I’m waiting. I’m relieved for a moment to finally be alone. Then I hear the familiar whooshing sound. I can hear the ultrasound machine in the next room. I can hear the heartbeat. The anxiety is all consuming. I hear the excited parents being told that their boy has a strong heartbeat. Did it have to be a boy? I can’t breathe.
Finally the door opens. Her face is kind. I explain our story once again. The tears fall again. Her words are gentle. She tells me it won’t happen again. That things will be different next time. I desperately want to believe her. In the back of my mind all I can hear is my own fear.
She wants me to meet with another doctor. Someone who specializes in high risk. Appointments are to be made. Medicines are to be prescribed. Tests are to be done.
So now, I’m just waiting.