Today has been a blah kind of day for me. I blame last weeks cold on making this weekend not fun, along with the fact that I'm not sleeping well. Had the same sleep problems when I was pregnant with Jules, I can get to sleep, but staying asleep doesn't happen. Most nights I now wake up after 3 or 4 hours of sleep, if I'm lucky, & I'm awake for about 5 more hours. And, again if I'm lucky, I get another hour or two.
I could go like that in college, it was easy. I look back now & think "My god, how the hell did I get up & get to school at 9am the morning after being out until 2am drinking rum & coke?!" I'm just not made that way anymore. I guess once you hit like 23, those years are over.
Anyway, last night was the usual. Went to bed kinda late because we had a Mario Kart battle to play with friends & the trip to Vegas to discuss (don't eat the sushi in Vegas, btw). But I was awake by, I believe, 5. Was up & down, mainly up, until like 10am. I decided to lay down in the bed (I'd been on the couch since 5) once Jules got up with Adam. I slept well...until I happened to wake up & see something laying bedside me.
A simple Fed Ex envelope.
I knew what it was, I figured Adam brought it up because he figured I'd want it ASAP, & if he'd asked I would have. But laying there, looking at it, I was filled with a feeling I can only describe as "ughblahfuckmeshit."
That's my word. Use it, but credit me, please.
Anyway, as I laid there I tried to ignore it. Finally, I decided to throw the damn thing out of bed, in hopes of going back to sleep. It was starting to work...
then Adam came in the room with Jules & placed it back on the bed to keep the little guy from stomping it.
At that point I gave in & opened it. Inside it was a smaller envelope with my address as well. I opened it & pulled out a simple piece of paper that was neatly folded. I made the quick scan of it to make sure all the needed info was on it. It was, I laid it down. I was slightly disappointed a letter of apology wasn't in there, I looked around & then I saw a card had fallen out. It was Tom's card. Wrote on the back to call if I needed anything else. I flipped the card over & was filled with anger. I realized I recognized him & his title...he was one of the many people I'd sent my letter to. He was one of the people who ignored it. I wanted to call & yell at him, ask him why he was so heartless, ask why he didn't just lay it all out on the table on the phone yesterday instead of acting like until the past couple days he'd never heard of me. The only thing that stopped me was realizing that wouldn't make him care either. I figure I've wasted enough time & breath on these assholes. I also wanted to yell at them because the bill also list a "creation date" which they listed as a month ago. Suuuure...again, assholes.
Since I couldn't sleep anymore, I did what I do best...interneted. Not facebook or anything like that, I wanted to know what every number on that bill meant. I looked up codes, as if I was just waiting for one to tell me it means "this person is a bitch & we just gave her this to shut her the hell up." But no, there wasn't one like that. Just things like...
V271 DELIVER-SINGLE STILLBORN
88012 Necropsy; infant
Being an idiot, I didn't know what the hell necropsy was, so I threw that in the search engine next. The first result was a wiki page for autopsy.
Again, silly me.
But in that moment, I couldn't help but to think it is over. You'd think I'd be happy to have this over, but hardly.
Yep, this is it. The only 2 forms my sons name will ever be on are his autopsy report & the bill for that autopsy. Everyone officially can wash their hands of this entire situation, they've all done what they are required to do. I now become a distance, bad memory for several medical professionals when it comes to my pregnancy & son. It's all over.
It's over for me, too. No more battles to fight. At least none that I can see in my future. You'd think I'd be relieved, but I'm not. Now I'm faced with the knowledge of what I said before, we're a distance, bad memory. A statistic. A fluke. Something to move on from.
Sadly, I can't just do it that easily. I can't just write it off as a fluke, a statistic, or a bad, distant memory. And I can't just write off that angry bitterness that I shouldn't have anyway. I shouldn't have been fighting these battles with hospitals & medical professionals. Maybe if I hadn't, today I wouldn't be sitting home, feeling like I've been hit by a truck. I could have had this feeling months ago instead of this delayed feeling.
So now I'm sad & I'm angry, & I have no one to yell at.
That ughblahfuckmeshit feeling...I don't see it going away anytime soon.