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  • January 1st, 2009. A simple trip to the corner diner for oatmeal and eggs suddenly takes a turn for the worst. "Hi Mom, I don't mean to worry you but I've started spotting and I don't know if that's okay." said with the shaking voice that comes right before a full blown meltdown. "Don't worry sweetie, a lot of people bleed a little, as long as there's no pain and it's not heavy, you'll be just fine." Some pleasantries exchanged and the phone call ends, back to my oatmeal. Now I'm worried, but only so much, after all, my mom wouldn't steer me wrong. Fast forward ten hours later. "Bryan, I'm bleeding a lot and it hurts really badly, I think I'm going to call an ambulance." I cry. "Okay, I can't leave now, but I'll be there as soon as possible, let me know what's happening!" Twenty minutes later and I meet the ambulance at the curb. One very scary ambulance ride, one needless I.V., and one very scared phone call from my husband later and I arrive at the hospital. Two hours go by with periodic visits from nurses who don't seem in much of a rush and my mind tells me that everything must be okay. Then an ominous trip down the hall to meet a weary ultrasound technician pulled in from home. Thirty minutes pass in silence. Me, "Is everything alright?" Technician, "If everything were alright don't you think we'd be done already?" Such a cold, inhuman voice I've never heard since. Now I wait. Ten minutes pass in even deeper silence. Soulless technician, "There's no baby in here, and your fallopian tube is awfully swollen." Me, too scared to speak, I just lay there in silence. One more trip down the hall, less ominous than the first, but even more heartbreaking. My bleary eyes fix on the one bright spot left in this forsaken hospital, my husband looking scared and tired. Bryan, "Is everything okay, are you okay, what did they say?" I hesitate for a moment because he looks so scared but still optimistic, as though I'm going to tell him that it was just a false alarm, our family hasn't been irrevocably changed. Me," They say there's no baby, I lost our baby!" Then, the coldness seeps in. Neither of us moving or talking, crying has even lost its power. Twenty minutes later we learn the truth. We aren't compatible, our baby had the odds stacked against him/her. While my outlook remains positive, my blood work is negative, type B negative to be exact. My husband's type A positive blood looked like an invader in my body and all of my defenses set out to destroy the intruder, my baby. A very painful shot in the thigh and we were on our way home, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the winter. We were far to cold inside to notice the drop in the air temperature. It's been almost four years now and not a day goes by that I don't think about how life would be with our son or daughter, they would be in the midst of the terrible twos right now. More setbacks have greeted us at every turn, a diagnosis of Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome has put things on hold, but I've not given up. I'm twenty-five, it just shouldn't be this hard, but I won't give up!
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