I’m scheduled. Reality numbs me for a minute as I get off the phone with the nurse. This is happening. No one will be calling me to say, “Cassie, we are so sorry but it turns out there was a mistake with the ultrasound images.”. I am getting a D&E on Tuesday and it feels so surreal. I attempt to slather myself with reality through writing, verbalizing, and thinking about the D&E procedure so I can mentally/emotionally prepare for Tuesday, but I still feel so far from acceptance. Oh denial…how your antics entice me. You feel so comforting…so safe…but it’s a façade. I know this and yet here I am. Dancing between denial and acceptance.
After the phone call with the nurse, I took Buster on a walk to decompress. Once I got to the track everything seemed to hit me at once. Torrential downpour of tears. Although slightly embarrassing to fall apart in public, it felt good to get fresh air and process what Tuesday means for me. On Tuesday, I will no longer be pregnant. I will no longer feel the kicks of our little girl. She won't physically be with us anymore and I'm going to miss her terribly. Reality is slowly setting in and I’m starting to inch towards acceptance. It. Is. Awful.