I went to the eye doctor today and ended up spiraling with confusing PTSD. I was sitting in the exam room waiting for the doctor, and I kept expecting her to come in with bad news about the baby. However, I was completely aware that I was at the eye doctor and that there is no baby. But my body didn’t care. It was in full anxiety-mode, and I was terribly sad.

During the intake, they asked if my medical history had changed. I said yes, that I’d had a D & C. She said, “We have the one from 2019. Was there another?” I answered, “I had one on Monday, and I had one on November 9.”

Monday. I had surgery on Monday. And today is Thursday. And I’ve worked the last three days and now I’m at the eye doctor and it’s like none of it even happened. But it did. I thought I’d be better emotionally this time because the initial grief of it all has passed, but simply being at a doctor’s office triggered me terribly.

Then the eye doctor comes in and asks, “How’s the family? How are the kids?” Plural. She didn’t mean anything by it. But my heart was grieving and I was trying to convince my body that I wasn’t at the OB receiving bad news, and all I could think is that we have one, single living child.

And then I cried the whole way home. I was not prepared for today.

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