Letting go is hard to do

Today I called to cancel our 19-week ultrasound. THE BIG ONE. Where we would have found out if our baby was a boy or a girl, if we wanted to… It was supposed to be the first time we would actually see our baby, and I was already counting down the days.

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The ultrasound was booked for April 28th. At first, I didn't quite believe that our baby was actually gone, so I held on to the appointment in the hopes I might need it anyways. And then it just became the last thing I needed to take care of, the thing that I really didn't want to face because it meant that our miscarriage is REAL and FINAL. For the most part I've been feeling pretty positive about life in the past few days (ladies, there is hope!), but just knowing I had this little task lined up made me irritable and emotional. Just one of those things I really didn't want to deal with, ya know?

So, I had set myself a deadline to cancel this appointment by April 1st, which - in my mind - was as long as acceptable to drag my feet. Today was my deadline. I'm all about the deadlines.

To prepare, I mentally pumped myself up to make the phone call (I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry), shut my office door, and dialed the number. Only to be told that it had already been cancelled by somebody else, but there was no note as to who did it.

How cruel is that? Do they not know that I've been agonizing over phoning to cancel it? Do they not know how many times I've thought about it, only to tell myself it's okay and I can call later? Do they not know that the afternoon of April 28th is already booked off work, and written in PEN in my organizer? Is this some sort of April Fool's joke?

Now I'm thinking I might take the afternoon of the 28th off anyways, and go treat myself to a pedicure or something. But that almost seems shallow, or superficial, or something. I mean, I was supposed to be meeting our baby for the first time that afternoon. I was going to get little pictures to bring home and put on the fridge, and share those pictures with family and friends. And instead I'm thinking about getting my heels pumiced?

Maybe I'll just go home and sleep instead. Bleugh.