Ultrasound technician: Oh! Oh, you were pregnant last summer? Did you get a baby?
Ultrasound technician: (Long pause) Did you have a miscarriage?
Me: (Wondering what else she thinks I did with the babies) Yes. Yes, I did.
Ultrasound technician: Oh.
Me: (Laying very still and quiet on the tiny table hoping there won't be any more questions)
Ultrasound technician: Oh. You've had a C-section?
Me: (Shit) Yes. We had a baby in 2005 but he died too. I had a C-section then.
Ultrasound technician: (Quietly) Oh.
The rest of the exam proceeded in silence until we said polite goodbyes and I retreated back into the protective cocoon of the change room to nurse my wounds.
After this the nurse stuck me in both arms trying to find a decent vein.
All in all, pretty much just as shitty a time as I'd remembered and expected.
I came *this* close to fleeing in a hail of tears just before I was called in for my ultrasound, but I talked myself down off the ledge. I decided it's better to just suck it up, submit to the prodding and deal with the aftermath of whatever results they find sooner rather than later.
The clock won't stop. Time waits for no broken uterus. I can't suck out now.
Good times, my friends. Good times.