Return to Georgetown

For the first time since Harper's death, I went back to Georgetown Hospital.

It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I find the place strangely comforting. Maybe just because I'd become so familiar with its hallways and landmarks during the 17 days we practically lived there, not to mention the month or so worth of 3 time per week doctors' visits leading up to Harper's birth.

First stop was the NICU, where I dropped off cookies and brownies for the staff as a small gesture of thanks. They were so very kind to us there, and they work tremendously hard; feeding their sugar habit seemed like the least I could do. Everyone was in a big group meeting, so I didn't have to talk to anyone but the dragon lady receptionist, which was somewhat of a relief.

I was at Georgetown for my 6 week postpartum appointment.

"Did you leave a urine sample?", asked the nurse.

Confused, I said, "I didn't think I still needed to do that."

Every visit, she told me. Still bewildered, I suggested I could leave a sample on the way out.

"That's fine," she smiled.

The she asked, still smiling, "Have you felt any movement from the baby, yet?"

Ouch.

I told her I wasn't pregnant, forcing myself to smile. "I'm here for my postpartum appointment," I told her.

"Oh", she exclaimed, "No wonder you seemed confused about the sample! You're right, we don't need a sample."

Then I cringed as she continued, "So, you've already had your baby! Congratulations! Did you have a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," I quietly told her. Mercifully, the questions ended.

Then she handed me a questionnaire designed to assess the likelihood of me having postpartum depression. I found this darkly humorous. Not that postpartum depression is funny and not that I couldn't still have it. But seriously, asking a woman whose newborn baby died a month ago whether or not she still cries on occasion? Um, why yes, yes I do.

I don't think that's clinically relevant information.

The doctor didn't seem to share my sense of irony - morbid humor is completely wasted on some people.

I came to this appointment prepared for battle. Ready to make the case for why conceiving after a c-section did not need the nine month waiting period my OB had recommended last time before conceiving again. Armed with fact and figures and aggregated data on interpregnancy intervals and risk factors for multiple c-sections and information on uterine rupture versus dehiscences. (I think I must be an incredibly annoying patient.) I was ready to tell him about our meeting with the reproductive endocrinologist and why we decided that IVF and pre-implantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) was not a good option for us.

Totally overprepared. Turns out he has no problem with me getting pregnant anytime I want. Which makes me tremendously happy (even if my data collection did nothing but teach me the meaning of the word "dehiscence")

The crib remains in Shea's room, looking at me. I hope to see a baby sleeping in it someday.

 Just in case, we bought a recliner this weekend - and it rocks... (literally and figuratively!)