Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Time-- And Marcia Cross-- Heals All Wounds

Ridiculous things always seem to happen to me at my darkest moments. This time I was in my doctor's office, sobbing uncontrollably, when the well-meaning nurse made a clumsy attempt to calm me down.

I was distraught and panicked because, after a lifetime of believing that I couldn't get pregnant, I suddenly discovered that I was. But I also knew that something was wrong. For several weeks prior to this visit, my symptoms had disappeared and I found myself losing the weight I had already gained.

At 42-years-old, I understood that my chance of a miscarriage was fifty percent. Factor in my husband's age, my past history with DES (diethylstilbestrol, which I was exposed to in utero) and a first time pregnancy in middle-age and the odds were stacked against us.

Besides, I was in shock... complete and utter shock. Thinking I was one thing and then finding out that I'm something else, knocked me off my foundation. I couldn't plan for the future, I was barely handling the reality of the present.

To say that I was frightened and confused would be the understatement of all eternity.

The entire OBGYN staff wanted me to see this turn of events as a miracle. But as I said through my tears, "Why do you want me to be happy, when I know you're going to tell me that it's already over?"

So, I was inconsolable. The nurse, however, wanted to console... I think. I'm not really sure what she was trying to accomplish. I just wanted the truth.

She said, "Plenty of woman have babies in their forties. That actress on "Desperate Housewives" just had twins at 44. What's her name?"

What's her name? I'm weeping openly, during one of the worst moments of my life and suddenly I'm playing the Live With Regis and Kelly trivia game? What's her name? I don't even watch the damn show! She actually asked me, "What's her name?"

Of course, I'm a nice person. So I tried to figure out which actress she was talking about. Terry Hatcher? Apparently not. I was given another clue... the red head. Oh, Marcia Cross. The answer is Marcia Cross.

As the words "Marcia Cross" came out of my mouth, I sat there blinking like a cat with wind blowing in his face. For a moment, I stopped crying. Was this woman a genius? Did she learn this technique at "How To Handle A Psycho Patient 101" or was she completely unaware of just how desperate I was at that moment?

I'm not pregnant anymore. The past few weeks have been like a bad dream.

Living my entire adult life as an infertile woman and then realizing I was pregnant at the same time I knew it was over all seems rather cruel. I feel like I've spent 20 years standing in line for a roller coaster and then screaming through the entire 60 second ride. And, no, I will never ride this coaster again.

I'm hoping that as time passes and the hormones leave my system, I'll start to feel better. Right now, I'm just incredibly sad and exhausted.

I suppose telling the Marcia Cross story is a good first step. Maybe someday it will actually make me laugh out loud.


David Lee Nelson said...

that was a very moving story. i was going to say beautiful but that didn't seem right. but in a way, it was.

Suzy said...

You know how I feel about what happened and just wanted to write in and say, "Sorry."

Michele T. said...