How to Kick a Girl When She’s Down in 4 Easy Steps

Step 1: Make the girl with a pregnancy that is probably over before it began (in addition to two previous miscarriages and 3 + years of trying to have a live infant) come back again to the office that you share with a high risk OB for a repeat blood draw at 8am in the morning and charge her $18 for the pleasure. Flirt with the idea of waiting again until 4pm to tell her the results.  

Step 2: Don’t tell the staff what happened to said girl so that instead they are chipper and ask her how she’s doing in front of the whole office staff.

Step 3: Block girl’s exit from the office with a woman and her baby – a woman who obviously can’t read the signs that ask “Please do not bring children into the office” – and then throw in a few OB nurses who exclaim, “We’re just here to see the baby!” while they ooh and aah over the adorable infant. 

Step 4: Choose the exact moment that Girl is heading to bathroom to cry in private to have maintenance man go in to clean the bathroom meaning that Girl has to walk all the way to her car with tears everywhere (because the cry just couldn’t wait apparently) to really let go.

Repeat as needed to turn Girl into blubbering mess for the rest of the day and cement your reputation as an insensitive clod of the highest order.

*Update* – one small kind favor from the universe: I did not have to wait very long for my results. I am officially back to 0. Was I ever even pregnant?

18 thoughts on “How to Kick a Girl When She’s Down in 4 Easy Steps

  1. Oh Sweetheart. My eyes are filled with tears at this post. I have been there so many times before. It’s like you hit your limit, and just when you think it can’t get any worse, something else happens. Maybe it’s better that you didn’t meet anyone that showed you kindness or understanding- if you are like me, THAT would have sent me over the edge right in the middle of the office.

    I can’t believe your RE shares an office with a high risk OB. That might be a reason to change RE’s!

    Sending lots of positive energy and thoughts your way for the next few days- no matter what happens today.

  2. Oh god, beta-watch is the WORST. It’s one thing to have to go in every two days when you’re in the middle of a cycle–you have a purpose, a goal, and there is hope. But to have to keep going in, over and over again, just to repeatedly confirm your failure is like being punished for losing the pregnancy.

    My RE generally lets me go once my beta is down below 5 or 6. If you’ve still got any HCG left in this next blood test, tell them you don’t think you should have to go back again. 3 is low enough that they know it’s not ectopic. They should just let you go grieve, and heal, on your own.

    My heart goes out to you. I’ve had three chemical pregnancies, and they are so unbelievably heartbreaking. I thought they must be so much worse than a negative. But when I got my first negative in March I discovered I was wrong. Even that slightest hope, that whiff of a pregnancy, was better than a big fucking zero. Nothing broke my heart like that BFN.

    I don’t know how many more of these I can go through either. The problem is, once you keep getting so close to success, how can you stop? Let me know if you find out the answer to that one. I sure haven’t.

  3. BWAAAH! I so feel your pain right now, dear Mrs. X! It just sucks, sucks, sucks to get a tiny bit of what you want (especially when you’ve already faced so much loss and grief in these past few months/years).

    Damn it all to hell! And please, people! Learn to read and keep your spawn away from poor suffering souls in beta torment!

    I’m glad the limbo’s over, at the very least. Though I know the hurting continues. I’m here for you, just shout.

  4. I am so sorry. People just don’t think and that’s one thing but nurses and doctors, that’s inexcusable. I am so sorry.

  5. I know all about not being able to hold back the tears and then having everything shoved into your face to remind you of what you’ve failed to do. If only we could all get together for a giant booze and cry up. At least we’d be in a room with gals who get it. I’m so very sorry, there are no words to describe how badly I feel for what you are going through.

  6. I am so sorry. That you had the whole teeny Beta thing, that it’s over before it could even begin, that your husband isn’t there to hold you, that you’ve already suffered such a loss this week, the the nurses and doctors are so very ASKING FOR A SLAP, that you couldn’t even have a good cry in peace. It sucks. I am so sad for you. I’ll be thinking of you. Hugs.

  7. All I have to say is Bastards. They’re all bastards. And you, Ms. X, are a delightful nonbastard. Dear God, when does this crap get easier? I’m not going to say I’m sorry because you know that and feel it from many sources. So, I’ll say bastards again.

  8. That sounds like such a horrible experience. I am so sorry that you had to go through that. They need infertiles running those damn clinics so that they have a f*ckin clue.

    (((hugs)))

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s