Following up

The days that followed Presley's death are a bit of a blur, but there are moments and details that stand out in striking clarity. One thing that seemed of vital importance was to follow up with my OB. I called immediately Monday morning and requested a same day appointment, explaining to the scheduler what had occurred. She was cold and short with me, not so much as an "I'm sorry to hear that." 

I will never, ever forget sitting in the waiting room of that doctor's office (for over an hour). As we waited a couple came out from an ultrasound and sat directly beside us. They loudly shared their shock with a room full of strangers as they were just informed they were expecting twins and proceeded to call every member of their family to share the good news. I too have sat in that very room and marveled over the first few photos of our baby, but I have a new appreciation for the fact that not every woman in those chairs is elated over expecting a new healthy baby. Tragedies and heartbreak occur there every day.

When we were finally called back by a nurse, who we had seen just days earlier due to my concerns, she greeted us and asked if I was still having trouble. She had no idea why I was there. Had that not been noted in my chart when they were contacted by the hospital, when I scheduled the appointment? Or had they just not taken the time to look at my chart? Whichever it was, it made for an awkward walk down the hall to the exam room. The doctor stepped in a few moments later, shook our hands and said "Heard you guys had a rough weekend." As if losing your baby in the second trimester of pregnancy is comparable to rainy weather or a bad date.

The appointment went from bad to worse as he explained that the best cure for a loss like this is to just get pregnant again. He told us we'd be back again in a few months with a healthy pregnancy and forget all about this other stuff. Let me be very clear, no future baby will ever erase the memory of holding tiny, peaceful Presley in our arms and kissing her goodbye. Nothing.

I voiced concerns about a possible infection, which he brushed off and asked if I needed to return for a follow up physical exam, which was shot down. If I wasn't in such utter shock and despair at the time, I think I would have run from that office and alerted every woman in the waiting room that she was in the hands of a heartless and negligent doctor. I suppose it's better that shock kept me from that. 

I am so, so grateful that I followed my instincts and immediately found a new doctor. Two weeks after Presley's birth it was discovered that I had large portions of tissue remaining and was in danger of being sceptic and possibly having permanent uterine damage. I was treated and am now in the care of a an absolutely amazing, caring, attentive doctor whom I trust fully. 

This experience has taught me so many things, I know now from the early bleeding to my after care that you have to listen to your body and that not all doctors are to be trusted with your care. I second guessed my care throughout the weeks leading up to Presley's death but kept convincing myself that a doctor wouldn't tell me we were ok if we weren't. I will question the "what ifs" for the rest of my days. But I will move forward in an entirely different light.