Visit the the Doctor and Closure

So I found out I was pregnant on Thursday.  I was ecstatic, scared, hopeful, joyous, a bundle of nerves all wrapped up in my body.  My husband and I had just returned from our "honeymoon/visit with my parents" in Dubai.  It was a wonderful vacation and we were excited to see if we had conceived on our first cycle trying and if it had happened in Dubai.  I was actually conceived in Abu Dhabi and was hopeful that our first child was also be conceived just a hop, skip and a jump from where my heart started beating.  Lo-and-behold, we got our wish.

Fast forward to Saturday.  Just walking through the house and I feel wetness...  Hmmm, what's this?  Blood? 

You know the feeling you get when you *know* something is horribly, irreversibily wrong?  Yup, had that feeling.  But against my better judgement, we had the girls (my step daughters) this weekend and took them to the pool.  After swimming for about a half an hour (and freaking out the entire time about the blood) we decided to leave.  I go, get changed and voila, someone has stolen my brand new Uggs that I brought back from Dubai.  So now I'm potentially miscarrying and my boots are gone.  I cried.  And on that note, I hope the scum bag who stole them uses them to walk in front of a speeding bus.  I want to go back to my pool and leave a note on the changing room wall that reads "Thanks for stealing my brand new boots on the day I had a miscarriage.  You truly were the cherry on my cake.  Burn in hell"

So Saturday night, still bleeding but avoiding alcohol during an evening out just in case it's not what I already know it is.

Sunday morning I decide to go to a walk in clinic.  I show up before they open and I'm behind this enourmous woman who refuses to say "Please" or "Thank you" to the receptionist and is insisteningly rude to the support staff.  I'm sitting in my room waiting for the doctor and through the miracle of paper thin walk in clinic walls, I am able to hear the *entire* 45 minute conversation that ensues between this enormous and unhappy woman and the doctor whose English is indicative of someone who recently arrived in the country.  She spoke for 45 MINUTES about the warts on her feet.  WARTS?  There's a display case full of that freezing stuff RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOCTORS OFFICE!  What's worse, she hasn't even tried this method and is completely insistent that the doctor take care of them for her right now!  He's refusing in his broken English because he will have to charge her $100 to do something that would only cost her $10 if she were to just leave the clinic and go get the freezing stuff RIGHT OUTSIDE THE CLINIC! 

Finally, my turn:  I tell him what I fear is wrong, he doesn't say a word, instead jumps up and runs out of the room, leaving me to wonder if he's going to get a translator to understand what I've told him.  Nope, he grabs the receptionist who gives me a cup to pee in to see if I am pregnant.  I do so and wait and again he comes in and says, "Pregnancy test negative" and turns to go again.... Um, hello??  I'm bleeding, I was pregnant and all I want right now is some fucking information about what's happening to me?!  Nope, all I get from this douche bag is a blood test form I can take and come back three days from now (after he's had his two days off) to get my results.  Gee, that sounds fun.  I'm bleeding, not pregnant and I get to wait three more to days to hear it again.  Where do I sign up?

I go home and cry.  And drink half a bottle of wine.  And I wake up this morning to go to the walk in clinic up the street from me and thankfully I get a woman for a doctor.  One who is my age and with it.  She was kind and gentle and told me that I had miscarried.  I don't need a blood test, she explained, due to my symptoms.  I'm also alright and not dying (always a concern)...

So now what?....  I'm depressed and I don't want to be.  I want to get back to real life...  While waiting for the first douchebag doctor my really close friend called and told me: ta-da, she's pregnant and as far along as I was.  That's hard to hear within an hour of acknowleding your own miscarriage. 

So to end this on a positive note.  I think we are going to wait a couple of months.  I had been planning on running the Underwear Affair in June and I still want to be able to do that.  So let the training begin.  It's something I'm looking forward to and will start tomorrow (provided my body lets me.... c'mon body, let me damn it!  You couldn't hang onto that baby so for christ's sake please let me be able to run!)