"You get what you pay for, but I just had no intention of living this way." -Counting Crows

Why We're Here...

My husband David and I delivered a stillborn Baby Boy that we loved, and wanted. Our first and only son, Logan, had Down Syndrome. Our daughter's smile is a little light in the darkness. She turned one year old three days after our sweet Logan tip-toed away on January 24, 2009. After 2 1/2 years we found out we were having another baby, whom we affectionatly called Rudy. Just shy of 6 weeks we found out Rudy was Ectopic. Rudy was surgically removed on May 26, 2011 delivering another blow to our already broken hearts.

I just wanted my teeth cleaned

I went to the dentist today. As I walked into the waiting room the receptionist says to me "Is that a baby you got in there!?" Meaning, apparently, that my pudgy stomach still makes me look newly pregnant. Yay. As if I didn't feel down enough. Before I could think about what I was saying, I said "No. Just had one." Ok, I know 4 months isn't JUST, but whatever. As soon as I said it I wished I would have stopped at "No." or better yet, cancelled the blasted appointment I wasn't in the mood to be at to begin with. The two ladies behind the desk began they're onslaught of typical new baby questions. I found myself rubbing the top of the counter as my face turned about 15 shades of red before I said "No. My baby didn't make it." to which one lady replied how sorry she was and to which the other idiot said "well, I'm sure IT'S in a better place!" to which I replied "Well, I don't know that I agree with that." and awkwardly walked to my chair where I turned and said "IT was a boy." IT? Did she seriously call my baby an IT? I was embarrassed. Or maybe ashamed. I don't know. I don't know if I was ashamed to show emotions in public to perfect strangers, or if, as my husband suggested I was embarrassed for them and their awkwardness. Guess I'll be the topic of conversation at dinner tonight. I hate that. I hate that I feel weird about it. I wish I could look people square in the face when I tell them my son died. But I can't. I always look down or away. It's not my fault he died. But I guess deep down inside I know it was my faulty egg. My body that didn't do it's job. My body that let my son down. And maybe not because of anything I did outright, but because it was just a bad month. A bad egg. And for that, perhaps I feel shame, guilt...something. It isn't logical. Anyhow, the two ladies went about whispering (for real?? I didn't bother to look up), I'm sure about who was to spread the "news" to my hygienist. Then the idiot one decided it was appropriate to make small talk with me in an overly cheery voice about the stupid weather. "Oh, sheesh. Your baby died? Is it still cold out? Looks like rain." DUH. I knew I shouldn't have gone today. I just didn't want to go. Then, while I'm in the hygienists chair, I have to fill out my questionnaire about my current health. Last time I was there I wrote that I was pregnant. There it was. Staring at me. So, in this visit's column I wrote "Stillborn". I don't know why. I doubt they needed to know that. But it was almost like I needed a period after pregnancy. It ended. There is no baby at home. My usually very chatty hygienist was fairly quiet today. I don't know if it's because the receptionists told her, or if she saw what I wrote, or if she was just tired. I don't really care. I was glad she didn't want to chat. I didn't want to chat either. I just wanted my teeth cleaned.


Ter said...


I wish I could say more but I know that sometimes there are no words, and right now there aren't any, and certainly none that will ease the pain that you're feeling.

angie said...

Oh, Heather, what a truly horrible day. Teeth cleaning is bad enough, then to have to deal with those horrible little people and their rude questions. IT! That is ridiculously horrible. XO. Sorry for this bad day. Wish I could give them a piece of my mind.

Mary said...

That is the worst. I am avoiding going too. My hygenist actually predicted I was having a boy three months before we were able to find out. She said the next time I see you, you can tell me if I was right.

Emily said...

Oh, I know what you mean. I hate the platitudes. People think they're helping, but really, what better place is there for your baby than in your arms? I believe in God, and that He's holding my little Leila. But that doesn't stop the aching, empty arms. I wish people would dismiss that particular pearl from their vocabulary.

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