Sniper

I lost it today. My mind, my composure, my privacy.
I had a rough morning. A song on my mix CD set me off, and I couldn't get out of the car. I was a blubbering fool. When I was finally able to function, I wandered into the lecture hall, and I was not a pretty sight. A colleague asked if I was okay, and I mumbled something or other on the way to a vacant row of seats. Out of nowhere I was blindsided. Tim, whose lovely wife had just last week given birth to their "surprise, accidental, bad-timing, unplanned, wish-it-was-a-girl" baby, gave me a hearty pat on the shoulder, and said, "Here, this should cheer you up!" as he handed me two photos of their newborn son.
I barely had time to scream as I ran from the room.
No shit, I was making some sort of sick gurgling choked mutant squealing kind of noise as I literally bolted towards the door. I stood at the slow-ass fucking elevator trying to catch my breath, when all that was coming out was terrifying sobs and panting and nonsensical noise that drew profs from other classes into the hall to see what beast was being slaughtered.
As I stood outside in the bitter cold wind, mentally trying to claw my way back up to the earth's crust (even though it was warm down there, those flames kinda tingle), I thought of every horrible thing I could possibly do to that motherfucking sonofabitch to pay him back for inflicting his infant on me TODAY of all days. I wanted to go in there with MY photoalbum and make him look at MY son that was stillborn in February, and my OTHER son who just died on Friday. How do you like THAT, asshole? Huh? Nice pictures, aren't they? Bet my babies aren't as much trouble as yours is, with you having to get up in the middle of the night and FEED it and CHANGE it and CUDDLE it. I hope you die, you self-indulged cocksucker with all your whiney-ass complaining "I wanted a girl", "I didn't want a baby right now, we're so busy", "I wish he would have waited another week to come, it was hard to study for this last exam and go to the hospital, too".
But, I managed to calm down before any carnage occurred.
When I was able to return upstairs, I discreetly motioned for him to meet me in the hall. I apologized for whatever I may have said or done inappropriately. I told him about Nicholas, and I told him about The Maybe. He said he had no idea, and he was sorry. He gave me a politically correct hug, and told me to "hang in there".
I want to dissect him and wrap him in his own entrails.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've had comments and questions about the possibility of Incompetent Cervix. This is something my doctor brought up with me before I even had a chance to ask. As a matter of fact, he stopped me short by explaining how it was too soon for IC to be an issue. The fetus was too small to put enough pressure on my cervix, and besides, my history proves that my cervix is actually quite competent. Stubborn, perhaps.
So here's the thing. My uterus is slightly offended by the assumption that compliance and cooperation are considered an issue. My vagina could really care less, and doesn't want to be part of the argument. So maybe it is not a question of competence. My cervix is simply passive-aggressive. We will try to avoid pissing it off in the future.
But, in all seriousness, once we find out if something was wrong with the baby, the placenta, or whatever, there will be an investigation into how my body handled the situation. There were a few issues at play, and we need answers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Goran Visnjic is HOT. There. I said it. I lust for Luka. Reminds me of Dr. Wonderful, except MY doc's eyes are a wicked shade of blue. So there. I need a drink.