The First Scare....

As the week went on, I felt confident. As confident as could be, given the situation.

Then, it started. Lack of movement.

Oh no, is she still alive? Is my baby moving? I did the typical drink OJ and lay down ordeal.

Nothing.

Wait, maybe there is a flutter. No. Could it be? Okay, I'll wait and see what happens.

I waited. I was afraid I was in panic mode because it was the big 28 week mark. I waited until the next day.

Tuesday.

I called into the doctor's office. It was before office hours. I got the nurse/doctor on call. I told her my name and birthdate. She asked what the problem was.

"I haven't felt my baby move for two days."

"So what you are saying," she snickered, "is that instead of feeling your baby move a million time it has only been 100,000 times?" 

 "Um, no, I might have felt her move once in the last two days. The doctor told me to call when the movement has decreased. I don't feel her too much to begin with. There is a lot more going on then just a baby that I haven't felt. I'm not an idiot. Can you go and get my chart?"

"We don't have charts here where I am." 

After telling her that I feel she was very rude and she shouldn't talk to people the way she just did to me, I end up telling her a bit of the history. I don't go into detail. I was crying. She was rude and I just wanted to hang up the phone. I shouldn't have called.

I should have waited until the office opened. I wanted support. I wanted someone to tell me that it was going to be okay. I wanted someone to tell me that I didn't have a dead baby floating inside of me. I wanted to know my baby was okay.

Instead, this is what I got:

"Can you wait until the office opens? If not, I GUESS you can come in to triage."

"I guess I can wait."

By the end of the conversation, I had about 30 minutes until the office opened. I didn't want to go in and have this rude lady do anything with me!

For the next 30 minutes, I paced around the house. I rubbed my belly a little and said wake-up!

I pleaded with her. Move, just move. Don't die on me. Mommy loves you. Just let me meet you. You're almost there! You've almost made it. Don't give up!

I prayed. I got angry. This is too much. I'm not sure I can take much more. I have no one to talk to. I'm going through this alone. No one in my family knows what I'm going through.

I weep on the kitchen floor. Please don't die. Please don't die.

I start crying. I didn't want to explain to her everything that had been going on.

I think they must train you on how to be rude and crude to people when you are going to school to be in the medical profession, I thought!