The 24 hour wait

I have always been staunchly independent, and I'm not talking about my political affiliation. I have always, since I was a kid, preferred to do things on my own. I am definitely 'social' - I like being around people and having friends - but I am perfectly capable of and happy to do things on my own too. More than most, it seems. It took me years to realize that asking for help is not only ok, but sometimes the whole point - like when there are salespeople standing around in a store asking if you need help, and when you, a newly minted lawyer, are given an assistant, and when your family, who truly wants the best for you, instructs you to ask them if you need their help. They really want to do it. Just like I like to be needed, so too do others.

Last year when I had my first u/s, old habits kicked in and it didn't really cross my mind to ask DH to go to the appointment. It's a medical appointment, they're going to be futzing around down there. The baby won't look like a baby yet. There's really no point, DH doesn't need to see all that. Plus, it's in the middle of a work day. How inconvenient. I'll just fill him in when I come home.

And when I found out the bad news I think I was stronger for being alone with the doctor. I held it together, I didn't let the tears flow until I had to call DH to let him know that I was getting a D&C and would need a ride home. I only lost it when I heard his voice. When I had to say it out loud to someone who would care. When I was no longer anonymous with my pain.

This time around, I've asked him up front to come with me, emotional instability be damned. I've turned into a needy, pleading wifey who actually uttered the words "I don't think I can do it without you." And the truth is, I don't. He has become my rock through this struggle, independent of my conviction that I don't need a rock. THIS is what it means to ask someone for help when you really need it. And it's not so hard. I am asking my husband to come with me because win or lose, I will be a wreck and I will need him to have gone through it with me. I need to share it with him and I need his support. This affects him as much as it affects me and he should be there.

He was predictably supportive, immediately. In fact, after the appointment last year year one of the first things he said was - "I should have come with you." So he wants to be there. He understands why he should be there and what I'm going through, even if he doesn't feel it the same way or to the same degree. Even if he's not as worried. Even if he won't be as defeated as I will if it doesn't go well. Even if he won't cry if it does. He gets that this is a joint experience.

So good, we have me wanting the shoulder to lean on, DH being happy to come. What's missing? A break in DH's work schedule. He's been working 24/7, all weekend, late nights, etc. He doesn't know what the chances of him being able to leave work tomorrow afternoon are. I sympathize, but at the same time - this is important, damnit. Can't he just tell them he has a dr. appointment? I'm sure he will find some way to get there if we have a repeat of last year. Why should it be any different given the possibility of good news?

So tomorrow is it. The verdict. It's kind of like waiting for bar results. The difference between passing and failing is SO huge - the implications of what it means for your life, so important (certainly moreso in this situation than in the bar situation). And it only takes an instant to find out after all this waiting. It feels like the finding out part should be more ceremonial or a more substantial process than a snapshot. After all this time. After all this hope and fear and suffering and wanting and researching and 'being good.' It's also like the bar in that if you fail you can try again. But in both situations, the time lapse between failing and being able to try again, paired with the despair at all the effort and time that's been wasted on this round is enough to throw anyone into a depression. I am not prepared for bad news. I've been so sick the last couple days, I have all the right symptoms. I think deep down I'm expecting this time to go better. Although, I know from experience that all the symptoms in the world don't mean a healthy baby. It could mean a full molar pregnancy. It could mean I see a hb tomorrow but not at the 9 or 10 wk u/s. But tomorrow is a milestone. The one thing that makes me feel better, as I stave off nausea at work and cry tears of frustration as I'm trying in vain to fall asleep before DH comes to bed or take an extra 20 minutes after he leaves for work, as I pass on the drinks, as fewer and fewer types of foods seem to be edible, the thing I keep telling myself is that:

Tomorrow it will either all be worth it, or it will all be over.

In other words, what I find out tomorrow will either be good news, which would make me not care about all the physical suffering as much. Or we will get bad news and I'll get my body back. Of COURSE I would prefer the former but the point is that I will get some (albeit temporary) resolution tomorrow. And that is something.

Unless the sky falls in at the obg office, the next time I post I'll have the results of the u/s. My appointment isn't until the afternoon so I'm going into mini hibernation. Good luck to Kelley and anyone else expecting news in the next day - though we may be at different stages, the waiting and wondering does not get easier and we are all in it together. Thanks all of you for buoying me up during this forever wait. And thanks in advance for being there, whatever the result this time.