So real it hurts

Is there some sort of rule?  When one thing in your life goes well, everything else goes to shit?


Friday morning I had my appointment with the Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist.  It's the doctor you to go to when you're old and your body is a killing machine.  R had gotten home late the night before and we'd been fighting all week so things were tense.  God, but isn't that how things always are.


I parked in the wrong building so we had to walk a thousand miles to get to the right building, arriving in his office right at 8:15.  Thankfully, R wasn't a smart-ass about it because I was so wound up I certainly would have lost it had he said a word.


They took me back to the room and I slid my pants low around my hips.  It's still weird not to have to get completely undressed.  For a while it was just R and me and I laid there in silence, trying to steady my breathing, trying to prepare myself for the moment when the doctor says "I'm so sorry."  Would I ever be able to walk in and be happy?  Would I ever be able to just be excited.  R told me he loved me but I barely heard him because my grasp over my control was so tenuous.  Later that would get thrown in my face.


The doctor came in - he was much cuter than his website picture.  He went over everything with us, looking me in my eyes and his bedside manner was stellar.  I found myself melting, becoming more comfortable with his compassionate voice and the sympathy in his eyes, which was a major problem because I was trying so hard not to cry.


"Let's find the heartbeat right away."  I looked away from the screen, the tears rolling down my face.
And then I heard it, that whoopwhoopwhoopwhoop over the speakers of the machine.  Well forget it now, no way I'm keeping it together.  I started crying and hyperventilating but not in a crazy way, just insane ridiculous relief.
"That's a very active baby in there.  You see the little hand?"
Five little tiny glowing bones.  I could see them.  He swirled the thing around, watching as the baby kicked and moved.  It was so surreal to see it yet not be able to feel anything.  He said it was the right size, everything looked good and I'm right on track.  I was in so much shock I could barely process what he was saying.
"Do you want me to guess at the gender?"
Whaaa?  You could do that this early?  I had no idea - I always thought you had to wait until 20 weeks or something.
"Well, is it a good guess?"
"I have about an 85% success rate."
"Well...yeah...yes, definitely."
"Okay....well...don't paint any rooms yet, but I'm pretty certain.....it's a little girl."


And then I died.


The rest of the appointment was a blur - his nurse drew my blood and she was a horrible cow and R didn't stick up for me and just let her be rude.  We walked out and began the trek back to the building where I parked.


A girl.


A daughter.


MY daughter.


R asked me what I was thinking.  I couldn't even make my brain form words.  He thought I was giving him the silent treatment and when we were in the car, he said "So you're just not going to talk to me now is that it?"


WHY?  Why is everything in the world about him?  Why is he so god-blessed insecure about EVERYTHING?  I turned to him and said "What in the world do you think I'm thinking?"


"Not only is it alive, it's a girl.  This is real, this is going to happen.  NOW will you get your head out of your ass?  NOW can we talk about money?  NOW can we make plans for what we're going to do when the baby gets here?"

"It's a girl.  A daughter.  My daughter.  Who is going to look to ME for cues on how to be a woman.  Who's going to look to YOU for cues on how to deal with men, what to accept from them.  She will look to US as a model for relationships and we're sucking at it right now.  I don't want my daughter to hear the way you talk to me and think that it's okay to do that.  I don't want her to see the way you treat me, see how selfish you are and think that it's okay for men to be that way.  I'm terrified.  I'm terrified because we are horrible role models right now and our daughter is going to see that.  We suck right now.  Babies and little kids are blobs, little sponges and we have to teach them and mold them and protect them and I'm not very confident in your ability to do that.  I'm not confident in my OWN ability to do that and I'm terrified.  So that's what I'm thinking."


By that time, I'd arrived at work and I had to go in.  I couldn't even be happy, I was so scared.  This is real now, I have a little girl inside me and I'm 100% responsible and I've been falling down on the job.  Already.


The rest of the day went by quickly, and by the time R came to get me, nothing had changed.  We'd chatted during the day about how dire our relationship situation was as we discussed baby names.  So many times I thought my head would explode.


We talked that night, I thought we made some progress.  I thought that once and for all we were getting on the same page.


But as I write this from the hotel room where I spent last night, I know we didn't get anywhere.