Post script - part one (of many)
The call this morning was the children's hospital, informing me of my appointment first thing Tuesday morning with a genetics counsellor. This is the same routine we went through when they found a bright spot on Tristan's heart at the 18 week ultrasound. It was a soft marker for Down syndrome, and they call you in for counselling to explain the risks and the alternatives.
Aside from being caught completely off guard, Beloved wasn't quite sure what to say to them so simply accepted the appointment not knowing exactly who or what it was, and they didn't give him any details. However, I think it's safe to assume that since the baby had been dead for up to two weeks at that point, my hormonal levels would have been a little out of the normal range.
(Sorry. Still a little bit bitter. Just a bit.)
Facetious as I'm being now, I do hold out some hope that maybe they can identify something in the blood work that will give me some closure on this. If it was something scary like Trisomy 13 or who knows what, then maybe this will be a little bit easier to understand, if not accept.
My wheels keep spinning on this. Four pregnancies, three lost souls. Four, if you include Frostie. And yet aside from losing Tristan's twin at 9 weeks, I've had such healthy, easy pregnancies - when I can carry them to term. I just don't understand.
An hour or so later, the genetic counselling scheduling lady called back to cancel our appointment, having spoken to my OB before I could call them back and explain. I asked if she could give me any information, but if course she is only a receptionist. She will have the counsellor call me next week if there is anything they can offer. And a pathology (pause for more tears) report will be sent to my OB, with whom I have a follow-up appointment next Thursday.
I think I need some more cookies.