Today I went in for my surgery follow-up that was supposed to be my regular monthly well check. Instead of leaving happy and beaming from yet another sonogram showing me his flailing arms and legs and his wiggly body, I left with a copy of his autopsy. It's hard to read how "normal" everything was, down to the 10 fingers, 10 toes, male, measuring between 14-15 weeks (he was a big boy already!). It's just not fair and my heart still hurts. My soul needs closure and answers. My body, physically, needs to heal.
We are still waiting on the ashes, which I hope will come home soon, and the final pathology reports on chromosomes, to see if there will be an answer for us or not. In four more weeks, I can go back to me RE, who I much prefer, even though we thought we had graduated and moved on, finally. We thought our next visit to her would be to show off our little one, but that's obvious not the case any more. I thought I would never have to endure another first trimester of agony again, but looks like I may if I decide to try again. The thought of it just makes me anxious to think about right now. I don't know what I'm going to do, or if I will try again. I just really hope we have answers, but seeing as that would make things a little easier for me, I'm not counting on it. Things haven't been easy so far, why would that change now when I need it most? My doctor is forwarding my information to a hematologist, but that will be another four weeks out before I can go to him and hope for answers. Guess 2011 just wasn't my year. Oh, wait...neither was 2010...or 2009....
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