Destroyed

I thought maybe I'd be lucky enough to wake up this morning and have a few seconds of blissful non-remembering that Peanut has died. No such luck. I woke up an hour before the alarm in full awareness and just laid there quietly staring at the ceiling so that poor NoodleGuy would be able to sleep a little more. He has it bad because he not only is dealing himself with losing this baby, very possibly our last chance at a baby, but also consoling his basketcase of a wife. This is something he's quite good at, I have to say, and has gotten more experience than is fair over the past 3 years. Even if everything else in my life is turning to shit: dead baby, hating my job, living in a family-friendly suburb that makes me want to blow my brains out, living 5 hours away from any family or friends, there's always good ol' NoodleGuy. He's a peach, thank God.

I guess "why" is always the operative question here. Why me? Why can't I have one single baby when everyone in my family has never had a problem? Why me, the responsible daughter out of three of us, the one that has always followed the rules, the one that gets along with everyone, the peacemaker who always tries to smooth everything over? Is that a good thing, shouldn't the fates be happy with me? What have I done to make the universe so upset with me? When I add to the fact that I have this breast cancer scare going on and am going for yet another surgery on 10/5, my head short circuits. WTF have I done to deserve all this? I understand empirically that there are sadder things in life than infertility and recurrent losses and cancer scares: there are babies starving all over the world and people killing each other over money and on and on. But as far as personal crappiness goes, this takes the cake for me.

I told NoodleGuy last night that this is the saddest I've ever been in my life. Which I thought was a given, a no-brainer. I mean, when could I have possibly been sadder than when being told that my miracle, last-chance baby who looked perfect in all previous blood tests and ultrasounds was inexplicably dead? But he just looked devastated when I said that, it was so sad. It's like he finally got how bad this is, and I hated to do that to him. I'm just lovely to be around right now.

To rub salt in the wound, I have to go in for the D&E surgery tomorrow. When something this cruel happens, it seems like somehow the universe should be kind enough to just let the baby fade away. But unfortunately, a horrible, clinical ordeal has to be tackled also. I've had D&Es before, so it's not like I don't know the drill and physically I know it's not a bad surgery. But I don't feel like seeing or talking to anyone but NoodleGuy for the next 100 years, so I certainly don't feel like pretending I'm anything but destroyed to a bunch of hospital workers I'll never see again. I know no one expects me to be friendly and perky, but all I feel like doing is crawling under the covers and, at most, grunting responses. Maybe I can actually get away with that tomorrow.