First off, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time and showed so much heart in sharing their stories and opinions. I take it all to heart. J~ and I read and discuss your comments together. It helps. It really does.
The other day I ran into a woman I know, an acquaintance who also happens to be a doctor. I took a deep breath and stopped her to ask if she knew an RE she could recommend who specializes in miscarriage. She didn't even know what an RE was, but of course asked many questions, and before I knew it I'd stumbled into that conversational cul-de-sac I have come to truly hate.
Have you considered adoption?
Why must everyone ask this? It's part of why I find it so difficult to seek answers and support. Do people honestly think I haven't thought of that? Don't they realize that what they're saying, on some level, is, Have you considered giving up?
You wouldn't ask an overweight neighbor, Why don't you just go on a diet? If someone stopped you on the street to ask for directions to Joe's Restaurant, you wouldn't say, Have you considered going to John's Restaurant instead? even thoughthe food at Joe's is greasy and over-priced. Wouldn't that be considered rude? Why is this different?
Okay, okay, I'm venting. I know people care and are just trying to understand. My anger isn't with this individual, or with anyone else who broaches the subject. It's just way too flip of a question about way too tricky a subject, and I hate how little sensitivity is built into our societal consciousness. It hits a very raw nerve. Perhaps it would be better if I just got angry in the moment, but instead I take on the role of educator, ambassador for all of us in this hidden realm of pregnancy loss. I make the mistake of answering with depth and feeling. I bare my soul. I told this woman, If my husband and I were ten years younger, if he didn't already have a child, I bet would be looking into adoption. If someone left a baby at our doorstep, or if J~ was saying he wanted to adopt, I'd probably be thrilled. I'd be nervous and I'd have to think about it, but I'd be thrilled. But this is not where we're at.
She was still looking at me with puzzlement and concern, so I went on to talk about the teenage abortion I never wanted to have, my fear ever since that I'd never get to have children. And just when I was about to admit that, at this point, after this many failures, I feel like I want the experience of a healthy pregnancy more than I want the child, I deflected her questioning expression by bringing the subject back around to my quest for help, to my fear of asking. To how much courage it took for me to stop her in passing and ask these revealing questions in the first place, let alone call up strangers on the phone. Because, let's face it, I've been wanting good medical support for a long time and have felt completely overwhelmed and discouraged about seeking it out.
And then she gave me some really good, simple advice. She suggested I let myself have my emotions but keep that separate from the work at hand. Make a list of tasks and do what you need to do.
So I did. I sat down with J~ and went over his work schedule. I made some calls. And I made two appointments at times when he is free to come along, one with each of the major fertility clinics in the state. (I can't go out of state without paying out of pocket, so this is where I'll start.) Of course neither clinic wants to see me until I'm no longer pregnant, so both appointments are in July. Hopefully by then I'll be a clean slate, so to speak. Hopefully I won't be writing again next week at "Eleven Weeks Not."
At least for the time being, I'd like my body back.