Félicitations

I had my appointment with my ob today which I was looking forward to with dread. When I walked in to the office my ob was right there speaking with his secretary, and when he turned and saw me he had a spontaneous grin pasted ear to ear across his face. I could see he'd taken off his DOCTOR facade and was being a REGULAR PERSON with me, this facade of course reserved for people he is genuinely happy to see. "Alors, c'est une bonne nouvelle; félicitations." I didn't want to spoil the moment. He had never done this with me, never been normal. He was always a little icy. I was savouring it, rolling it round in my mouth like a really good treat. "umm yes ..." I said, stalling as we walked in to his office. I waited until he'd closed the door. "Well, I uh, lost the pregnancy you know." The DOCTOR face quickly jeckled back and he turned very serious. Not sympathetic because that wasn't in his repetoire, but stern. "Okay well, lets see what's happening."

He lead me into the little room adjacent to his office and did an ultrasound; condom, wand, goop. He said that he felt the pregnancy had run it's course, something I think I could have told him myself. That horrible empty feeling I'd had all weekend was testimony that nothing had been left behind. I was ready to try again if I wanted. Yes, I wanted. I wanted to be right back in the game. I desperately wanted to be seven weeks pregnant. I wanted to be listening to this baby's heartbeat instead of making sure there were no traces left behind.

My ob is very competent and I like him because he's always reassuring, not in a pushy "come on--you can do it!" way like our RE, but in a "you're in a slump and you'll soon be out of it" kind of way. I appreciate this and I can't fault him for his otherwise steely toned, straightforward manner. He's not my aunt or my sister. He's not there to bake me cookies and stroke my hair. He's there to oversee things when my body doesn't deliver what my mind was promised. He's there to read over my results and make evaluations about my ability to carry a baby to term. And, he's there to reassure me when I remind him that I feel like three miscarriages over five years makes me high risk. In this case he does his job competently. I left his office somewhat reassured.

Finally, when I signed the check over to him he said "You'll do the IVF again and it will work. You're just the kind of couple who needs ART to get pregnant, that's all. Just some tweaking."

Okay that stung.

Didn't he see that I wanted a natural pregnancy. That was what made this loss so bittersweet. Didn't he understand that a natural pregnancy is a rare gift to someone who'd had her fair share of invasive ART procedures over the past five years. It was a final sour note to leave his office with. He was probably right though. We'd be back in January for another round of injections, blood draws, ultrasounds, and poking. That was the inevitable truth.