I was pregnant on Mother’s Day 2008 and C. bought me a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He wrote a cute note on the card and signed it “Love Husband, Duke and Baby.”
At my 10-week appointment with our PCP on May 16th--the day we lost our baby, she asked if I had enjoyed my first Mother’s Day. I grinned and told her that C. had bought me roses. She smiled and patted him on the back. After our return visit to her office that day, (see: What We Have Here...) she sent us on our way, and had the to nerve to say: “At least you had a nice Mother’s Day.” Are you kidding me?! What the hell does that mean?! Sure. The fact that I had a nice Mother's Day makes the reality that our baby, along with all the hopes and dreams that we had for him/her died, all better. Thanks doc.
The funny thing is, those roses never really turned brown. They stood tall and beautifully in bloom for almost two weeks, and then, the morning after my second D & C, I noticed that they had turned a deep maroon-black hue. How perfect. Baby gone. First (only?) Mother’s Day come and gone. And now I have black roses.
According to my beloved internet friend Wiki, “In the 19th century, the language of flowers became popular. In this code, black roses signified death, or hatred. But it really meant farewell and overcoming of a long, hard journey. They were often used at funerals. A single black rose might be sent by a close friend and or loved one leaving for a war or on a journey from which he did not expect to return.”
So I guess I’m going on a journey that I’m not expecting to return from. That’s great. I’m not sure why I find symbolism in everything now. I guess it’s my way of attempting to find meaning in life’s circumstances. All I know is that I don’t want to receive roses of any kind for a really long time, and I definitely have no desire to see my PCP ever again.
At my 10-week appointment with our PCP on May 16th--the day we lost our baby, she asked if I had enjoyed my first Mother’s Day. I grinned and told her that C. had bought me roses. She smiled and patted him on the back. After our return visit to her office that day, (see: What We Have Here...) she sent us on our way, and had the to nerve to say: “At least you had a nice Mother’s Day.” Are you kidding me?! What the hell does that mean?! Sure. The fact that I had a nice Mother's Day makes the reality that our baby, along with all the hopes and dreams that we had for him/her died, all better. Thanks doc.
The funny thing is, those roses never really turned brown. They stood tall and beautifully in bloom for almost two weeks, and then, the morning after my second D & C, I noticed that they had turned a deep maroon-black hue. How perfect. Baby gone. First (only?) Mother’s Day come and gone. And now I have black roses.
According to my beloved internet friend Wiki, “In the 19th century, the language of flowers became popular. In this code, black roses signified death, or hatred. But it really meant farewell and overcoming of a long, hard journey. They were often used at funerals. A single black rose might be sent by a close friend and or loved one leaving for a war or on a journey from which he did not expect to return.”
So I guess I’m going on a journey that I’m not expecting to return from. That’s great. I’m not sure why I find symbolism in everything now. I guess it’s my way of attempting to find meaning in life’s circumstances. All I know is that I don’t want to receive roses of any kind for a really long time, and I definitely have no desire to see my PCP ever again.
4 comments:
I am so sorry for all you have been through!! What a sad story and your PCP deserves a swift kick in the knee.
I have not experienced loss, and I cannot even imagine how painful it must be.
*hugs*
I just left a long message for your previous post, but I wanted to say how sorry I am for all that you've had to endure lately. I'm so sorry and hope that things turn around soon. I'll keep you in my thoughts.
I just discovered your blog through Lost and Found. Welcome to the blogoshere. I am so sorry to hear about your loss. Our stories souns somewhat similar - although I was eventually diagnosed with a septum after being told I was bicornuate.
I hope you will take the emotional healing time you need to recover. Perhaps in that time you can confirm your diagnosis. Bicornuate or Septate - you have a great shot at a successful pregnancy.
If you have not joined the Mullerian Anomalies Yahoo group yet, you should do so. There are great women there who can help you out tremendously.
http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/MullerianAnomalies/
also check here for more information:
http://mulleriananomalies.blogspot.com/
Take good care of yourself.
Meredith
I am so sorry that your PCP is so insensitive! You'd think a doc would know better.
I too was married in July 05, started TTC in June 07... little did we know it would be a rocky road. And the jealously is just starting to get to me too -- especially when I know someone started TTC after we did.
I hope things go on an upward road for a bit for you.
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