I think I remember filling out some forms, and I know I remember giving a urine sample because of how difficult it was after being NPO for eight hours. We found two chairs in the corner of the waiting room, and we sat and looked at the other people.
It wasn't that long before they called me back. At their request, I went back to pre-op by myself. They took my vitals and then showed me to a curtained-off area where my nurse was getting some paperwork ready. She had a lot of questions for me, and then she had me change into a gown. When I returned, she helped me fit my hair into a cap, and she took my earrings. As she was covering my wedding ring with tape, she told me that she was sorry that I had to go through this. She herself had had three miscarriages.
As I climbed onto the gurney, it all became very real. I was the patient, and I was going to the OR. I started to think about the surgeries I'd seen on my rotations and how those patients had looked there on the table. That was going to be me--totally exposed and in the hands of my OB and the OR nurses and staff. They were going to position me, strap me down, put a tube down my throat, tape my eyes shut, all of those things. I'd seen it a hundred times.
I tried not to think about it too much as the nurse struggled to get an IV. She called in another nurse for help, and an IV was placed by the third stick. Fluids were started, my EKG leads were placed, and then the nurse left to speak with the anesthesiologist. When she came back, she gave me a combination of sedatives through my IV.
They let Joe come back after that. I remember wondering what I looked like to him, hooked up to monitors and an IV, and wishing that he was seeing me like this under better circumstances, like in a delivery room. They put his chair next to me, and he sat and held my hand.
Soon, the OB arrived, and she talked to us both. I wish I could remember that part, but the sedative had started to take effect. She left, and the nurse asked Joe to return to the waiting room. Then they were wheeling me towards the operating room. It was so strange to be pushed on a bed from one room to the next.
As they got closer, I heard music, and when they opened the door, it poured out of the room. "Say Hey (I Love You)" by Michael Franti & Spearhead was playing on the radio. Maybe they were trying to lift my spirits. Or maybe I was supposed to pretend I was listening to reggae somewhere in the Carribean. Maybe it's just what was on the radio. I don't know, I was out of it.
They put on the gurney's brakes, and I was hoisted onto the table by a small group of people. I remember being told that they were just going to "hug [me] with some blankets now..." and "give [me] a little oxygen now..."
When I opened my eyes, I was back in a curtained area. I remember feeling like I was enveloped by a cloud. My head was resting on at least three pillows, and my body was covered by this long, flat balloon and it was so delightfully warm under that thing. I felt like I had just come out of hibernation. I felt like Sleeping Beauty. A different nurse was there, and I asked her if they had done the surgery. They had--it was over. The doctor had spoken with my husband, and now she was gone. I had been sleeping for a long time.
I asked her if I still had a uterus, and she laughed and said that I did. She offered me some cran-apple juice, and you would have thought that she had just offered me a winning lottery ticket. I downed that, so she got me some more. She ran her fingers through my hair and put chapstick on my lips. She was like an angel. I remember thanking her a lot and telling her that she was "just so nice." She talked to me about her miscarriage--she had also had one many years ago--and she told me that she understood what I was going through.
After a little while, she asked me if I thought I was ready to sit up yet, so I tried. Then she helped me to stand up, and I changed back into my clothes. Soon, we were leaving the curtained area, and she took my vitals one more time. Joe came back and joined me at that point, and we went over my post-op instructions with the nurse.
As we walked out of the surgical center into the sunlight, I knew that it was just me now. I wasn't pregnant anymore. And as we pulled out of the parking lot, I was aware that we were leaving what was left of our little baby behind. I felt sad that it was alone now too and probably on its way to a pathology lab somewhere.
Part of our instructions had been to go out for a nice lunch so that I could finally have something to eat. We picked a cafe where they served good breakfast food so that I could find something bland on the menu. When they seated us, we asked for a table outside, and when they put us too close to the other guests, we moved to a table on the edge of the outdoor seating area. The sun was beating down on us, but I liked feeling warm and it gave me an excuse to keep my sunglasses on.
The waiter brought Joe his Belgian waffle and he brought me my toast and scrambled eggs. I finished what I could eat, and I was just looking around, when I noticed a little bird that had hopped down onto the sidewalk from a planter nearby. I smiled as it hopped towards me. I could see that the little feathers on top of its head were all messed up. It sort of cocked its head to the side in this cute little way, like it was saying "Hey you!" And then it let out two little peeps, hopped closer, then flew away. I asked Joe, "Did you see that?" With tears in my eyes, I told him how I thought our baby would have giggled at that little bird.
And when we got home, I cut the solitary tulip that had grown amongst the hostas in our front yard. I brought it into the house, and I put it in a vase I'd found.
I couldn't explain it, but these things brought me comfort: the warmth of the sun, two peeps from a silly little bird, and a misfit tulip that was far from its flower bed.
(What I'm listening to right now...)
Simon & Garfunkel "Bookends"
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