I stood in the shower waiting for the water to run clean.
Eventually, I ran out of hot water waiting.
The kids were on their way home from an eventful and distracting evening out with my mom and sister and their cousins. To me, this was the most important task to bestow upon anyone. An innocent six and four year old had spent four days trapped in the house with one parent not-so-secretly suffering and one parent busily distracting them with various indoor activities. I didn’t want them to see the aftermath of the procedure. I wanted them to be giddy with excitement to tell me about the arcade games they played, the prizes they won and the pizza they ate. My mom and sister shielded them from the harsh reality of life. Lord knows I couldn’t. I know my mom would have been with me in the room, but the kids needed the safety of their Nana more than I needed the comfort of my mom. I guess that’s true, unselfish adulthood right there.
I didn’t sleep again. Everytime I closed my eyes, I flashbacked to the procedure. The darkness which is meant to provide relief, only reminded me of the day’s events.
Are you up and able to sign some forms to test the tissue?
Initial on all of the lines.
Sign the bottom.
Most of the time, it doesn’t provide a reason why this happened.
Yes, sometimes we can determine gender.
My baby was now reduced to a sample to be tested in a lab.
At 4am, I heard Ryan stirring in bed.
Ryan, I miss our baby.
I know. Me too.
I spent most of Tuesday in bed. It was a combination of physical pain and mental exhaustion. I responded to some texts, ignored most calls and just wanted to punish myself by replaying it all over in my head.
Do you need us to go over the procedure today?
We can postpone if you’d like- if you’re not ready.
As if anyone is ever ready for something like that.
Recovery from a D&C is nothing that women aren’t already used to. It’s not something that requires many aftercare instructions or prescriptions for painkillers. The doctors move on to their next patients as if they just removed a splinter from your finger. You just kind of have to go home and live it out. You have to accept the reality.
There’s no numbing pill for that.