We were driving one day and started talking about our medical history. I have no idea how we ended up on the topic, but somehow we fell into an old conversation. It’s a conversation that we used to have a lot more frequently, when we were living in the throes of miscarriage after miscarriage. It’s a conversation that makes me sad for us, and what we’ve been through. A conversation that makes me sad for what other women may have experienced or may be experiencing still.
We began talking about how we feel that our local medical treatment was unfair and inadequate when compared to international standards, and even just other provinces within Canada. Sometimes this was the result of what we believe is poor provincial policy and other times in part due to the medical advice we received from our medical professionals. Which in the end is really just the opinion of one medical professional (who although has many years of experience, it is just an opinion not a fact, because really doctors are not gods).
We found ourselves reminiscing about how we chose to terminate for medical reasons in part on the recommendation of an OB, and we were forced to go to an abortion clinic. Even the OB was upset about the situation, but this type of a policy was well out of her sphere of influence. I firmly believe that in a unique situation like ours, no-one should be forced to go to an abortion clinic. I must state that I am strongly pro-choice and believe abortion clinics are a necessity; however, I also believe in a situation like ours we should not have been sent to a sit in a room with individuals making their choice for very different reasons then we were. And yes, by all accounts our baby still had a heart rate and therefore was alive, but I am adamant that we were not typical abortion patients and should not have been forced to endure that experience in that way.
And then there was the ultrasound we had the morning of our abortion. It was so horrific that I actually submitted a complaint to the hospital over it the following week. It was both horrific and traumatizing. So much so that I have never written about the experience and I essentially never even think about it – I will share that story one day when I have the emotional capacity to write though it. For now, I’ll assure you that it was probably one of, if not the absolute worst, experience we had through all of our losses. The calamity of errors simply should never have happened, and both the abortion clinic and the hospital administration even agreed with me.
Then we began talking about how our local RE did not do basic testing on us for months. How we had to push for a simple progesterone blood test and medication for future cycles – both of which are considered basic diagnosis tools and treatment in other provinces and countries. Or how we had to wait weeks before we could even get a follow appointment for results. Or how our system does not allow for a Doppler ultrasound to be conducted prior to 20 weeks gestation so no one had no idea that I had reversed blood flow to my uterus which was likely the primary cause of our babies’ deaths. Or how our medical professional was less than enthusiastic when we decided to exercise our right to seek a second opinion. Or how there was no support for the use of intralipids or IVIG for pregnancy in our province. Or how we had to fight for the possibility of using a low dose blood thinner to try to help sustain a pregnancy. Or how there was no “belief” in my silent endometriosis diagnosis and no support for the surgery required to possibly fix it. Or how…
Ultimately, the conversation ended just as quickly as it started:
Me: Can we not talk about this? It just makes me so bitter sometimes. And I really don’t like feeling this bitter.
Mr. MPB: Okay.
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I’ve done my fair share of complaining about the adoption process:
- Dealing less then intelligent requirements has driven me crazy on more than one occasion.
- The process of managing the international process with what feels like ever changing rules.
- Managing a process that simply makes no sense to me.
- Preparing a nursery before we were ready.
But to be fair, I’ve also spent some time talking about the exciting and happy stuff too:
- The fact that we are so close to be officially waiting.
- How we are celebrating adoption milestones.
- Embracing that adoption is our choice.
- Mr. MPB nesting.
But today, I want to share one of the strangest feelings things we have done.
We spent a day this weekend taking photos of ourselves at home, doing typical at home things. Evidently, we did not have enough/any of us around our house.
Our collection of photographs now includes:
- Mr. MPB tending to his plants.
- Me making breakfast.
- Mr. MPB making coffee in the morning.
- Me watering the garden.
- Mr. MPB barbequing supper.
- Me with my cruiser bike.
- Mr. MPB enjoying a coffee in our living room.
- Me reading in my favourite chair.
Now, these are all things we legitimately do, which is very important to us as we feel that our adoption profile album must reflect us, so nothing was fake. But, somehow, the entire photography session felt incredibly fake and staged.
By fake, I mean we took them all in the same day, so we had to include outfit changes so they appear more spontaneous. We even went so far as to switch out coffee cups so that they looked more natural, as our mugs are all random pottery mugs that we pick up on our travels. And seriously, who has a giant smile on their face when they are gardening or whipping eggs? Well, we do, evidently! We had giant smiles plastered on our faces for each photo, as you do for album photos, but I have never actually whipped eggs with a giant smile on my face before. Usually, I’m neither smiling or frowning, I just am. Or I’m singing out of tune and dancing around a bit. Instead, in these photos I am smiling from ear to ear and nicely staring into the camera.
Anyways, truth be told, we had a tonne of fun putting together the photos. In order to take them all in one day, we spent our time simply doing some of our favourite things, and really who can complain when they get to spend a few hours doing things you love to do? We started the day with a great breakfast, played in our back yard and our neighbourhood. I could have done without the outfit changes, but honestly, it just meant that we had a great weekend together doing things we loved!
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My Perfect Breakdown 