Wow. Today was a completely emotional day. It started off okay and veered to bitterly sad only to end in a hopeful, joyful way.
My prenatal doctor's office happens to be on the 12th floor of the same building that Eva's local pediatrician, Dr. F, is in. I almost didn't go to this dr for pre-natal, knowing that I would have to take that same elevator everyday. But my dr's office is straight off the elevator. I don't look left at all. Just walk straight in. Every time I've taken that elevator for the last 7 months or so I've wondered if this would be the day...would this be the day I went into Dr F's office.
When Eva died she had an appointment booked with Dr F for a few days after her death. When the office called to confirm the appointment the next day I told them we woudln't be needing it because she had died. The caller said 'oh, I'm sorry' and hung up the phone. We never got another call, card or acknowledgement from that office. It is something that has bothered me for over a year and a half. This is a pediatrician's office. Eva was not 80 years old. She was not supposed to die. She wasn't even one year old.
So today as I was waiting for the elevator after my pre natal appointment I felt a strong urge to go to Dr F's office. I did and I talked to the receptionist. The same receptionist who hung up the phone so quickly 19 months ago. I told her it had taken me a year and a half to make it into the office. I told her about Eva and I told her a card would have gone a long way. And postage would only have cost them 52 cents. That I just needed to tell her. Get out how much it bothered me that there was zero acknowledgement from that office about Eva. And that when it happened to another patient, as it surely would, to remember that.
Of course I got emotional when I talked to her and started crying. But I kept my tone level and managed to say everything I needed to say. I left the office and started crying uncontrollably in the hallway. Nobody saw me and I managed to make my way down to the ground floor and out to the truck. Once in the truck I screamed and wailed and cried so many hot tears. I haven't been that emotional for several months. I didn't even know where all this was coming from. I certainly wasn't expecting it even though I knew it would be emotional to go in there. But the pain and rage and unfairness of her death just came crashing down on me again.
After about 20 minutes I was able to gather myself together and put some dark sunglasses on and continue my day. It got surprisingly better after that.
In the afternoon my friend, who was also my midwife for Theo and Eva's birth came over and we talked and cried together. It was really rather okay.
By the time tonight rolled around and I went to prayer meeting I had eaten chocolate and was feeling, amazingly, much better. I feel like this was another thing I needed to deal with. And prayer meeting was really good too. I dealt with emotions surrounding Little J and had a few practice contractions for the big day that is approaching. Those little contractions felt like validation, somehow. That going to Dr F's office was something I needed to do before this little one makes an appearance.
There's just so many unknowns in my life now. So much unchartered territory that I've never travelled before. And the missing is always there. Always hurting me and poking me and prodding me. And all the damn wishing that does no good.
I could go on and on but you've heard it all before and the heartache never stops.