3.31.2011

"You're right, I don't have any idea."

I returned to work on Monday after our loss on Friday.  The loss that my RE described as a "dramatic miscarriage" because of all the blood I lost and the large clotting that went along with it.  I spent most of Friday, Saturday and Sunday just lounging around the house.  My husband and I watched the first two seasons of Weeds with Net.flix on demand.  I could have called in sick and stayed home, but I wanted to go to work so I could think about something else, to concentrate on something other than our third miscarriage.

I fielded a call from someone that morning who was calling to inquire about the status of a certain case.  I'm not particularly fond of this person in general, but I am always professional and cordial when I speak with him.  He started the conversation with the standard, "how are you?" I responded, "I'm okay, how about yourself?"  You know this type of conversation -- asking about a person's well-being as a formality even though you don't really give a crap, but you feel obligated to do so before proceeding onto the real reason for the call/conversation.  He could have just said "fine thanks" and moved on, but of course that is not what happened.  Instead, he said, "It's a little crazy over here.  My wife is out of town this week and I have a lot going on."  I replied, "I guess that could make things a little more hectic than usual."  And then he said, "With an eighteen month old, you have absolutely no idea."  I couldn't resist and my next statement was, "Unfortunately, you're right, I don't have any idea." That was greeted with a noticeable few seconds of complete silence on the other end of the line which was then followed with "so the reason I'm calling is . . . " 

I hope my response made him uncomfortable.  I'm proud of myself for actually saying what went through my head out loud for once.  I'm not sure where my courage to say it came from.  Maybe it had something to do with my general dislike of this person and his comment rubbing me the wrong way on my first day back to the office after my third miscarriage.  Maybe it is because I'm tired of keeping our fertility struggles and pregnancy losses private/secret any longer.  Or maybe I felt more confident being pretty direct about it because my husband and I finally "outted" ourselves to our extended family and close friends this weekend.  I'll write about the way we shared our struggles and losses and the incredibly supportive responses we've received this week in my next post.

3 comments:

  1. I was doing the grocery shopping yesterday (so many children...) while waiting for my miscarriage to begin. (It did today.) I was just not in the mood for small-talk, and I kept running into shelf-stockers who kept asking me how I was doing. Inside, I was yelling, "AWFUL! I AM LOSING THE ONLY THING I TRULY WANT!"

    I just kept saying "fine" and wishing I could vanish.

    This life is hard.

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  2. I'm so glad you did it. I've had that happen too. New mom, "OMG you have no idea hard it is with a baby!" No kidding... I've only had miscarriages.

    If people want to bring up how hard raising kids is with a stranger, they should be prepared to hear how hard it is to have a miscarriage. They can sit with it for 5 mins. We have to sit with it for much longer.

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  3. I just found your blog through Stirrup Queens. I'm so sorry for your recent loss. I'm on a similar journey. I've had people jokingly offer me their children, or tell me how "lucky" my husband and I are.

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