Bad Blood.

Dear Josie,

You know how they say "blood is thicker than water?"  Apparently, mine is thicker than...well...blood.

Since you left me I've been wanting an answer.  I had to wait ten weeks for one.

I have lost count of the vials, how much of my blood has been drawn for you, bleeding onto socks and shoulders and white pages.  Bleeding into translucent tubes with labels.

There was the blood drawn at the hospital as I held you.  Again one week later as I sat in a waiting room next to people with strep throat.  Two more doctors' offices with more results.  Normal.  Typical.  Nothing wrong with me.

Last week one of my tests showed an abnormality.  Antiphospholipid Syndrome.  I already knew what it was. 

Basically, my body is one big drama queen, overreacting and responding immunologically to things that aren't necessarily harmful.  Clots can form, blocking blood flow to things like organs.  Things like babies. 

Apparently, I will need another blood test to confirm and

Apparently, future pregnancies will require blood thinners and increased monitoring and

Apparently, many people don't receive a diagnosis until "something like this" happens and

Apparently, I am at an increased risk for heart attack, stroke, stillbirth, etc. so

Apparently, this diagnosis could improve my body while

Apparently, you died because of something it did to you.

I hadn't known it was possible to hate myself so much as in that moment.  As he spoke, I imagined you in there.  I saw myself picking out bows and dresses, standing in checkout lines with a smile.   I saw myself growing, telling friends and brothers about you, opening gifts and engraving frames.  You were coming and we were ready.  Like a fool, I thought you a guarantee.  

But as I happily planned for you, my body was busy planning against you the entire time.  I had no idea.  What a cruel, sick joke. 

Apparently, sometimes life can knock you on your ass.

Well I'm up.   And don't worry, darling. 

You don't fool me twice.

Love,

Mom