I Hate the Hospital

December 30, 2008

Hospitals used to never bother me.  Now UNC Hospital is about my least favorite place on the planet and if it wasn’t so convenient to work, I would stop going there (plus I like Dr. T).  I cry from the minute I exit 15/501 to turn onto the campus to the minute I turn back on 15/501 to get back to the office.  My whole day is ruined from that point on and all I can think about is my beans – all that I have lost in 2008.  This is where they told me that there was something wrong with Baby A and we had to go to Philly right away.*  It’s where they told me Baby B had no heartbeat.  I’ve had my blood drawn every week for the last eight weeks – painfully, I might add.  Is it any wonder that I hate this place?  Every time I pull into the parking lot, I remember that sick feeling I had in my stomach that I knew Baby B was dead but keep telling hubby, “I’m totally overreacting – I will buy you lunch in a couple of hours since you missed karate.”  I look at the elevators and think, “will I ever have a happy memory of this place?  Ever?”

Dr. T mentioned a reproductive endocrinologist.  He’s not sure if she will be able to help us but in his words, “a second set of eyes can’t hurt.”  I’m really interest to see what, if anything, this doctor can do with someone who gets pregnant but just doesn’t stay that way.  I’ve been pregnant 4 times in the last year and have only the stretch marks on my boobs to show for it so at this point, I am willing to try anything that might help me in my New Year’s Resolution – NO MORE DEAD BABIES!

Of course, that means more frequent trips to the place.  Woo hoo, I’m so thrilled.

*Running a very close second is Children’s Hospital of Philly where Baby A died.

I realize that those of you from other parts of the world may not understand the Southern term, “come to Jesus.” Example of usage – “we need to sit down and have us a little come to Jesus about how much you have been spending on Chai Tea Lattes at Starbucks” (can you tell this just happened with hubby?  Can’t help it – I love me some Chai Tea Lattes from Starbucks, iced please and yes, I know there is caffeine and caffeine is the anti-christ to my little eggs but jeez, give me a break, I’m barely hanging on half the time anyway so if I can’t spend unlimited amounts of money on shoes and makeup just give me my dang Chai Tea Latte twice a week, okay?…wow, okay, I’m done).  Basically it means that we need to have a serious talk about something.

Dr. T emailed me to confirm our appoitnment tomorrow for our “come to Jesus with my biological clock” meeting.  No lie, that’s what the man said.  I about peed my pants.  I guess we are going to be discussing how long is too long to keep pursuing “Operation Kidlet” naturally and when we should get that bitch, Modern Medicine, involved.  Fertility drugs scare me because I could easily end up with twins again.  I already have a 25% greater chance of multiples because of the previous pregnancy (those were sponteanous) and I would get to add another 10% if we go on Clomid.  And as you all know, if it can happen, it will happen to me. 

Now those of you who have never had twins think it’s a groovy idea, two for one right?  I used to think that but since having (and losing) the boys, I am terrified of twins.  Lots of issues and although the boys didn’t die because of being twins and what happened last time is super-highly unlikely to happen again (like 1 in a million, literally), I’m still worried.  And the neo-natalogists in the family (1 nurse, 1 head of department and they are married to each other – lots in brains in one room) are screaming from the roof-tops, “DO NOT TOUCH HER OVARIES!”  Yes, they are freaking out a little because they do not want to have my babies in their NICU (although that is why we go to UNC so if something does happen, they are right there and it’s MY people caring for MY babies).  And I say that twins scare but really, I have mixed feelings.  I would like to have twins again because it was so fun being pregnant with two but then I worry about the complications.  It’s funny because hubby said the same thing last night, he has mixed feelings as well.  In general, we are all just so freaked out because of the loss, the potential for more twins…the whole enchilada……I think this next pregnancy is going to be very stressful on everyone….

But oh so, so wonderful when it happens….


September 9, 2008

are a funny breed of people.  I owe a hairdresser a lot because that is who introduced me to my husband so I mean no offense.  Quite the contrary, they just fascinate me.  I know women who will tell their hairdressers things that they wouldn’t tell their closest friends.  Where is this coming from, you ask?

Well.  On Saturday, in the middle of Hurricane Hanna, I had a hair appointment.  Worst hair cut of my life.  Not kidding.  So, so bad.  I can only liken it to a “mushroom with feet attached.”  This was a new hairdresser, my old one abandoned me and moved back to TN.  I hearted her because she was “offspring challenged” as well.  Anywho, I debated on what to do and on Monday, called the owner to see if she would advise me on how to “fix it.”  She insisted that I come back in and meet with another hairdresser and that’s how I met Emily.

Emily was able to fix the problem for the most part – it’s a totally cute cut, I no longer look like I am toting a mushroom with feet on my head.  However, this is not a blog about hair or haircuts, right?  Emily asked THE question.  You know, THE question…

Emily: “So, do you have kids?”

Me: “Ummmmm, well…..That’s a toughy there Emily, it’s complicated but yes, I do.  I have twins boys that I lost in April.”

Remember, I told y’all that I was going to be honest with people.  I have to be.  I’m not going to heal unless I am honest with myself and people around me eventhough I know that as soon as those word leave my mouth, my relationship with this person is forever changed.  It’s the “Elephant” right? (see LifeAfterLevi’s post).

Emily:  “Oh I am so sorry.  Oh my god, I am so, so sorry.”

And here’s where it gets interesting.  Normally people express their condolences and then quick change the subject.  Obviously I don’t want to talk about it right?  Wrong.  I do want to talk about it but I can’t say that to a stranger because that would be weird, right?  I want to tell you that I fought hard for them, that I loved them from the minute that pee stick lit up, that I miss them every second of every minute of every day, that I still can’t go in the “nursery” without my heart hurting.  But a stranger doesn’t want to know that – too personal, right?

Emily: “So tell me about them.”

Me: “What?  Wait, what?”

Emily: “If you want to talk about it, I would love to hear about your boys…”

Huh?  What?  Wait?  What? So I am either very obviously in a lot of pain (I think I hid it well) or she’s just a nice, caring person who really did know that I want to talk about them.  I talk about them a lot with Kelly and Robin and Gretchen but they have heard it all, not much more to tell.  Some of the mommies who read this blog email me and we talk about our babies but here is someone who has no vested interest in me and she wants to hear a very painful and sad, mascara-ruining story.  And she said, “my boys.”  Kelly says that and it makes me smile every time.  “My boys.”  Yes, they are mine, aren’t they?  Anywho, so Emily’s either masochistic or used to being a good shoulder to cry on.  Since I am trying to find the good in people and be positive about things….I’ve decided it’s the latter.

And she’s a damn good hairdresser too.


I am sorry that I have been a little MIA, I do animal rescue work and Hurricane Gustav is kicking my butt plus my mother in law is coming in 2 days and I had a whole spare room to put together.  I will be better about posts but really, thank you for all the concerned notes I got, I feel loved…..

even if my babies are not.  And yes, I did say that.  I’m spoiling for a fight today.  If you are sensitive to my potty mouth – which is in full force – I would skip this post. 

Someone said to me this morning, “oh well, you know what, take it from me, you couldn’t have cared for two babies at once anyway.” 

Wait, what?

First, I barely know this person.  The only reason she knows about my boys is our receptionist in my office can’t keep her mouth shut.  This person is a client and really had no business discussing my life or my boys.

Second, she didn’t/doesn’t have twins.  How the fuck would she know a) about caring for two babies at once and b) about my abilities to care for said babies.

Third, who the hell says that to someone who lost their babies.  Like it makes it okay that I lost them both because she thinks I could have only cared for one.  How fucking insensitive can you be?  Pretty insensitive from where I sit…If her goal was to win the “I’m the most insensitive bitch” award – well, congratulations and ready your speech because you did it, you won it.

This, of course, sent me into a tailspin.  I cried all the way home from work.  Why would she say that to me?  What makes it worse is this person has recently experienced a significant loss – shouldn’t she know better? I know I should have tolerance for people like this and know that she probably meant it in some other way (I’m reaching for an excuse here, I know) but damnit, I was doing really well and that statement just wrecked me.  I mean, completely and totally wrecked me.  Sadness and grief, who I had given “the finger” to, are back, those stupid bitches.