Just when you think it can't get any worse...

...it does. I went in for my one-week check-up with my OB on Tuesday, and she suspected an infection. After going back and forth between the hospital and the clinic (they're across the street from each other), it was discovered that I still had some placenta left in my uterus. And it was slightly infected. Seriously, anyone who saw me that day probably wanted to turn the other way--I had puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks and an expression that made it very clear I have had better days. And, of course, it was the day that all the obviously pregnant women were waiting their turn in the OB's office.

Instead of going home to open the sympathy cards in the mail, I was sent from my OB's office to the hospital (the one where I work, by the way) to start getting an IV dose of antibiotics. Yes, it was another night in the hospital, ladies and gentleman. Ooh, and to make it even more fun, my OB gave me another dose of terror: She told me the concern with doing another D&C so close after giving birth is that the uterus is so soft, there's a danger of tearing a hole in the ol' reproductive organ.

I couldn't have been more distraught.

So M cancelled his business trip for the next day (I was to join him and spend a few days hanging out with my parents in Chicago; one of the few things I had to look forward to) and set up shop with me in the hospital. Again.

The good part of the story is, the D&C went very, very well. My OB swears she got the rest of the placenta out, and my ute is still in working order. I'm definitely having some cramping issues, but I can deal with that. In two weeks, she'll check to make sure all is clear and ready to go.

The funny thing is, that night in the hospital actually helped with the healing process. Instead of thinking about my son, I was thinking about myself and my health. Positive steps, positive steps. And on my way out of the hospital, I even confronted my biggest fear--running into people I know who don't know about my nightmare. I kid you not--this is almost a direct transcript of what I told a few people: "Well, the short story of what's wrong with me is this: I was pregnant, and now I'm not. The baby had a lethal malformation, so I delivered last week at 20 weeks; the baby was stillborn. They did a D&C after the birth, but there was still stuff left in there, so I came back to the hospital overnight to have another D&C performed." Talk about dousing people with a cold bucket of water! In a way, it's liberating to be able to sum up the whole story so succinctly.

I did, however, ask one woman I know to gossip as much as she could before I come back, so I wouldn't have to repeat the story ad nauseum. I'm not sure she believed I was serious.