That voice

I was out with the LGBB minding my own business yesterday, going for a walk, when my phone rang.

"Hello, Kirrily, I'll bet you didn't expect to hear my voice," he said. It was Dr Luffley. And apart from the fact that I was finding it very difficult hearing his soft-spoken voice with cars going by, it was destined to be an uncomfortable conversation from the outset.

He told me he had the results. "It did have unbalanced chromosomes," he said. Just like that. I asked which ones and he told me it was irrelevant. I will have to politely but firmly remind him when I see him in person that it most certainly IS relevant. To me, as a mother needing to know as much as anybody, specifically certainly more than someone in a lab somewhere for whom my results did not mean anything other than something standing in the way of their lunch break, it absolutely positively is relevant. He needs to know that despite all my losses and my apparent flippancy in front of him - an error in my ways I am still finding the right balance with, depending on my audience - I will grieve the end of this baby's life along with all the others. That I have slightly more information to settle my niggling doubts that I ended a pregnancy only on an ultrasound's say so is a bonus. This time. Most of the time, I have not been so lucky to have it confirmed what is actually "wrong" with the foetus that it doesn't stay.

He tried to tell me as well that I didn't need to come and see him, really, for my six week post-op check up. See, I've been through this so many times now that I know the drill - the check up is mostly there to appease and ease the heart and mind of the newbie to miscarriage. Harsh but true. If you're as seasoned as me, apparently you don't need after care. I know the signs and I am intelligent enough to make a follow-up appointment if something necessitates it, say for instance if I am still in pain or still bleeding. Because I'm not and because he gave me my results over the phone, I think he thought that was all I needed.

I am still going in and he sounded surprised that I wanted to. When I asked him for the sex of the baby, he said that information was in the results but they weren't right in front of him at the moment. That's when I realised I was an in-passing call. He was actually in his car. I am not about to let him get away with giving me half-arsed information, it's not okay for me to leave it at his say-so that it was simply unbalanced. I want to know just how much it was and I want to know if that was the little boy I was sensing. I will eat my shoe if it was not a boy, I am telling you all right now.

Disappointed in my dear, beloved, well-trusted Ob this time :( I don't want to be but I am. I guess that's the price you pay for becoming a too-familiar face. I need to let him know this is something I am not okay with, I'll joke with someone and hope they are comfortable with me but this is a bit too comfortable for my liking. He hasn't crossed any boundaries, let me clarify, and I haven't found him unprofessional. I'm flattered in one respect that we are casual enough this far in to the journey together that he finds it acceptable to call me between dashes in his car. I just think he thought I'd be happy with that vague information.

I'm not. Have I made that clear? *tried to roar like a lioness but only a kittenish mew came out* Ok.... going now.