One of those

It's one of those days. The days where you feel like pretty much everyone is against you. The days when you feel like nothing you do matters in the grand scheme of things. The days when you just keep doing because you can't figure out a plan B.

I went to bed early last night because I couldn't figure out a plan B. On my nightstand was the book that my OB gave me when I went in for my follow up visit. It is called Miscarriage: A Shattered Promise. When I look at the title, all I can do is hear it in my head as read by the movie man's voice followed by the big don don don of the brass. I mean, who named that book? Really?

Not feeling like starting another novel, I decided to read Miscarriage miscarriage miscarriage don don don. Why not, I thought. I might learn something.

I learned plenty. Plenty that I wish I had known the day before I had a miscarriage. I learned that you can request the remains and have them buried. I learned that you can view them. I learned that you have all of these choices that I didn't get. Then I thought, "Would that have changed anything?"

Do I really think that we would have kept the remains of our unborn child and had a memorial service? Do I really think that my mother would have passed that opportunity to tell me that I really had lost my mind?

The thing is, when do you learn these things? Should your doctor give you this book when you first get pregnant and say, "There is a 20% chance you might lose this baby in the first trimester. Here is a book to prepare you for that possibility"? Can you imagine the fear that would invoke in expectant mothers?

I can't.

Although I wish my doctor had.

I wish that I had known there was that high of a risk that our baby might die for absolutely no known reason.

I wish I had known that I should have requested genetic testing and whatever other tests were possible and that the insurance would have covered it. Instead we are left with questions instead of even ruling out answers.

I wish I had known that I could have asked to see him.

That is my only regret, and I have hesitated posting it because I had the sense that it was completely weird of me to have wanted to see him. He wasn't any bigger than a lime, and I know that to some people, hell, maybe a lot of people, it is weird and even gross to think about. But I don't really care. It would have been really nice to have seen our child, hold him, and been able to say goodbye.