It's not over til the fat lady sings

I had my ultrasound today. A big shout out to Trent and Lorrie for babysitting for me, and thereby making this event possible. It wasn't without some apprehension that I drove to my appointment. Partly due to the appointment itself but also partly due to the fact that it was drizzling outside and my windshield wipers don't work- a slight problem that is a non consideration when it's not raining outside, but becomes a rather large problem when it does rain. I wondered if it was a sign or some sort of grim foreshadowing that it was overcast as I pulled into the parking lot. It looked gloomy, which left me with a feeling of foreboeding, although perhaps I would have encountered that no matter what the cloud coverage. A song played on the radio: Far Away by Nickleback, which was something of a reminder of my miscarriage with Reid. I came home that day from that ill fated doctors appointment and promptly began cleaning my kitchen while music played from the TV. The words to the sung struck me: I love you, I've loved you all along. For it seemed to encapsulate so well what I was feeling- that I had loved this being from the very hint of a positive pregnancy test. You invest yourself so much in a pregnancy from it's very inception. Anyways, the particular song playing also seemed to be somehow a warning, or maybe even an epiphany. Something somehow significant. More significant than it seemed. I shook myself away from those thoughts and pulled myself along across the street and up the stairs to the ultrasound clinic. A new worry was beginning to pool- literally speaking. My bladder was feeling like it was about to burst. It was intensely uncomfortable. I wondered how long I would be left in the waiting room and if I would be able to contain myself.
Luckily, there wasn't much waiting and within a moment I was being led into a rather impressive examining room: Hardwood floors, low lighting. The ultrasound commenced. They did not tell me anything during the exam. I kept my eyes riveted to the screen, and I have to say that at no point did I see a fetal pole or a heart beat or even a gestational sac. But, keep in mind, I'm a lowly nurse and not a radiologist. I tried to get the technician to comment on the findings, but she remained fairly tight lipped. I shared with her my feeling that the uterus seemed to be empty, and she did concede that "we're not seeing exactly what we should be seeing here" but then concluded with "but your dates could be off". I said that I was pretty sure of my dates and then she again told me to speak with family doctor regarding the matter. Unfortunately, this proved difficult because they have yet to fax any results to her. So, basically, I am still waiting for the ax to fall. In a way it was a relief when the doctor called, I had been expecting her to say "Your ultrasound isn't reassuring". I felt like I had dodged a bullet when she merely said that she hadn't gotten the results yet and would let me know in the morning. A stay of execution.
I try to prepare myself for this, but it isn't easy. It's so hard to think about going through all those emotions once again. I went to the store today to get some fresh air. And what do I see. The two girls in front of me- bot pregnant out to high heavens. Buying cigarettes. Look like they're seventeen if they're a day. And then they begin to enter into a conversation with the clerk at the store about pregnancy. And she says 'Yeah, I think I'll be having another baby, too. I've got two teenage kids, but the problem is in a few years they'll move out and I'll be evicted from my place because it's low income housing and the only way I can stay on there and stay of welfare is if I have a dependent child'. MY GOD. I was thinking to myself: you're planning on having another baby because you cannot support your sorry white trash ass, so you need to use a baby as a crutch in order to recieve handouts??? And the two girls in front of me were all empathetic, saying 'yeah, we're low income housing, too'. And I was like 'how is it even remotely fair that I am the only person in this room who is deserving of having a baby, and yet, I'm the one who can't seem to get there?? If there is a God he is pretty shallow or stupid or has a terrible sense of humor!!
Anyways, I am trying to think about my doctor had said before about the progesterone. I will have to give it some serious thought and impress upon my Geoff my desire to give it a try. The thing is is that every time I have a miscarriage it makes my desire to have a baby stronger, but it seems to have the opposite effect on him- he seems less and less inclined to keep trying with each miscarriage. Well, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Like I said in the title- it ain't over til the fat lady sings.
Onto another pressing issue: What the hell ever happened to those delicious jelly rolls they used to make? You know the ones- you could get strawberry or chocolate. I just realized that they seem to be unavailable. I love those things! Has anyone seen one out there somewhere? Do let me know. Likewise, I will let you know about the results I get tomorrow, if any.