This Will Not Be Pretty

ARRGH! I am so tired of the nay-sayers being right! I am tired of Doctor Gloom and Doom, and Nurse Depressing always winning. I know they don't want to win. But they keep doing it anyway, don't they. Isn't it time for the dreamers to win one? For the long shot to carry the day.

If you hadn't guessed, I have miscarried again. I just can't f-ing believe it. I just can't believe the Universe is this mean. I mean, honestly, is anyone at the helm up there?! Really, we needed more than just losing our boys? That wasn't enough of whatever the hell this is, whatever storm we are supposed to be weathering or life lessons we are supposed to be learning. I surrender. I surrender!! Now will you just stop?!

When I called the nurse today to find out what my latest numbers were, she came back and said, "Lisa, I am so sorry. I don't have good news for you. Your beta number is 8.6"

I'm thinking, Beta number? Oh, that must be different from Hcg. That must be like lbs to kgs or something. That's why it went from 234 to 8.6.

"I don't know what a beta number is" I replied. "I'm calling to find out my hcg number".

"Beta/Hcg: it's the same thing".

I can now feel my blood pulsing in my face. This can't be happening. Not again. Come on. Really? This is our story?

"But I still feel pregnant. I'm hungry all the time: it wakes me up at night. And I'm tired and moody." It sounds weak as I hear myself saying it, pleading with this nurse to somehow reverse the facts.

"We can re-run the test, if you'd like, " she offers.

"With a beta level of 8.6, if I pee on a home pregnancy test, it would come out negative, right?"

"Yes, that's right".

I get off the phone and run to find the box under the bathroom sink that I hoped I'd never have to use again. I pull out the remaining test and with shaking hands yank off the plastic wrapper.

Three minutes later, the test reads, "Not pregnant."

I'll spare you the description of me sinking to the bathroom floor, where I discover our bathmat needs a good washing. And of all the ensuing wailing and nashing of teeth and weeping phonecalls to Bruno at work, and to the family and friends that knew. You know the drill. You've seen it from me before.

I'm not sure I'm off the mat yet. I did get some sleep, and I did shower and I did chew my way through my toast and coffee; for those of you who know Bruno's coffee you know I mean it when I say chew. And I suppose I am sitting here trying to crack a joke.

But my spirit is still on the bathroom floor. It doesn't want to get up. It wants to spite the Universe: "Fine, you want to put me through hell? I do not accept. You do this to me, you lose me. I'm staying right here. You just go on without me, you bastard"

You all know me. You know I'll f-ing get up off the mat. I was born and raised to be that kind of good girl. But, I can tell you this: this time, it's not going to be pretty.