Old Memories and New Positions

I've been thinking about this for awhile and then trying not to think about it. My "new" job - the one that I was shuttled into because, well, stupid reasons that were not my fault, was located right near the ER at the hospital that I work for. Not a big deal at all. Except that it was a job I didn't care for, didn't ask for, and didn't want to do. Which sounds whiny. Then I used the closest restroom and began to hate that job.

The restroom is shared with the ER. It looked familiar. It was familiar. I don't even remember how much I detailed of the night that I miscarried on here. It's probably there, in the archives, and I have no desire to look for it. There are snapshots of that evening that I can't forget. I can acknowledge them as memories that aren't particularly pleasant, but I try my best not to relive or trigger them. Which means that I do not want to have to use that restroom everyday as I go about doing my job.

Because that restroom is the one I visited upon arriving at the ER that cold night in February. The one that couldn't contain the blood flowing out of me. When I, being raised a polite girl, went to notify the check in desk that they might need someone to clean up that restroom, they looked at me strangely. Which is okay, because in retrospect, I think I should have yelled "I'm losing my baby, damn it!" but I know that I couldn't have said anything to that effect because I didn't want to believe it myself. Even unable to contain the blood, I wanted to believe that everything was somehow okay. So did C. It was a bad night to say the least. The restroom and check in desk encounter are among the snapshots.

I'm not saying that each use of that restroom was traumatic and caused me to crumble to the ground sobbing - it's not like that. I do think that, if possible, one should not be forced to relive the sadness in their lives. Especially if the fault does not lie with them. Some people are forced to and they become strong. I think that I am strong, but I don't care for memories creeping up on me unaware.

None of this is the reason I choose to change jobs - they handed me a job I never applied for and didn't like, so I found one within the system that suits me better. I get to work for doctors (who see babies to oldies) and interact a little more with people than I did previously. Which is better for me in general.

As for us? We are just waiting for the next cycle and I am waiting for an upcoming consult with a urogynecologist in late December to address some other issues. So, I guess that means, in a certain sense, that we are flying standby for Christmas.