The Geneticist Called

Standard

I just received a call from the geneticist. Her and her colleague have a had chance to go over ‘the findings’ and want to discuss it with hubby and I. Our appointment is set for 9/19/07 at 2:30pm. This is what we want, we want to know all the bitter details. I was doing well on the phone, until she said the word ‘autopsy’. That’s when my heart sunk. That’s officially when I felt sickened. I still do. I just came back from the ladies room, where I cried my heart out. Of couse I did the usual, I cried and asked God why? And of course, no response came.

Once again the little that is left of my heart will be torn to pieces. Once again yet another medical professional will tell me why my baby had to die. Once again I’ll hear all the reasons why she had no chance, no hope, not a shot in hell of surviving. I hate that word ‘autopsy’. I especially hate it coupled with the phrase ‘your baby’. I hate knowing that her little body had to endure that, just to give us some answers. My precious baby, me preciousl girl. My little fighter. I MISS YOU!

Well that is the story of my life lately – sadness, tears and uncertainty. When will my brake come??? When will I be able to move on from this, with out having to revisit every painful detail?

In spite of all this, hubby and I still look forward to answers. We need to know all we can.

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About Jessica Emilia

Mother, wife, grief survivor, dancer, yogi, feminine, baker, cook, lover, fighter, perfectly imperfect, optimistic, pessimistic, reader, writer, funny, sarcastic, compassionate, emphatic, sympatheric, HR Pro, anxious, confident, supernatural, hocus-pocus, friend, daughter and momma again...

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