What If They Were Wrong?

I put away the baby sweater I was working on and started knitting this happy rainbow-y cotton cowl instead. Although it’s probably going to be too warm to wear it by the time I finish. Another little story about people being nice…my next door neighbor and I are in the same Saturday knitting group, and my colored thread was getting all tangled…she put aside what she was doing to help me untangle it and wrap it around cup warmers. Such a little gesture but so sweet and so nice.

All kinds of crazy thoughts going on in my mind this week (reference Tuesday’s post), and today it is: what if my new OB was wrong about the baby being dead? I mean, I know that’s not really a possibility, and it’s nothing personal with my new OB, because I trust her and don’t have any reason in the world to doubt her competence. It’s not about her, it’s just…what if there were a mistake? I felt this way when we went home after her telling us the baby had died. And I asked her right before they started drugging me for the D&C.

“There’s no way you could be wrong, is there?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Unfortunately it’s a very clear diagnosis. There’s no question.”

So why do I have this nagging fear that with the D&C we killed a perfectly good baby by mistake? Is this the denial phase of grief or something? But it’s not really denial because I know the baby’s gone. Ugh, can all these crazy thoughts just go away? What’s going on with me?