Anger

Today I felt very angry that this happened to me. I am not angry at anyone; I’ve just been really crabby all day. With so many of my friends pregnant, I suppose the statistics say that one of us was bound to have some issues. Of course, I should have known, it would be me. That is usually the role that my husband and I play in life. If something shitty can happen, it typically happens to us. We don’t play victims, but we know that shitty things happen to us. We’ve determined that God wants us to learn a lot on this earth so that when we move on, we are more prepared to help others. For some people, this would drive them apart. For us, it has done the opposite. We grow closer with each difficult experience we have. The same can be said with this experience. I am so thankful for my husband. As my friend said, “You have the best partner in life to handle these hardships with.” Those words could not be more true.

I went to the mall today to get my husband a small thank you gift. I had a lot of emotions being there. In the past, I typically looked at baby clothing and anything other baby that I could buy. I got mad today because of this. Shopping therapy has not made me feel any better this past week. I have no desire to shop which really never happens. Maybe it’s because I still have a bit of belly that is making my pants tight. Maybe it’s because I was supposed to be buying maternity clothes now. Maybe it’s because clothes don’t mean shit when you’ve lost a baby.

A week ago, my husband would hug me and my boobs would hurt. Now he hugs me and there is no pain. Oh, how I want that pain back. Thank God for vicodin. By the way, I want to take the O’Doul’s beer left in the refrigerator and throw it against the wall. I’ve been known to throw a beer bottle or two when I’m angry.



In a Daze

The last five days have really been a blur. Every morning I wake up and have to tell myself that this is really happening. I have to bring myself back to the reality that my baby is gone forever. There was no heartbeat. It was gone. My baby had died. It’s one of the sickest feelings I’ve ever felt. This morning, I reached down and put my hand on my stomach. That used to give me so much joy, now I am left with emptiness. My uterus is empty and so is my heart.

When I went for the D&E procedure, I was nervous and scared. My emotions were all over the place. Not only was I feeling sad about having my baby taken from me, I felt sick about how the actual procedure occurs. Wasn’t there a more humane, gentler way to do this? Do they really need to use a vacuum to take my dead baby? I couldn’t bear to think about it and was so thankful that I would not be awake for any part of it. I was also feeling fearful that something would go wrong during the procedure and any chance of having a baby would be taken from me.

The whole procedure went well and I had no issues. When I woke up, the anesthesia was clearly still working. I didn’t want it to wear off because it was the first time I felt good since all this happened. I was blessed with nurses who took care of me physically and emotionally. They were caring and knew exactly the right things to say. Nurses should get paid more.

Today is Sunday and I am supposed to go back to work tomorrow. Am I ready? Can I make it through an eight hour day without breaking down? Can I make it through an eight hour day without a vicodin? Can I make it through a day without my husband and the undeniable support we have gotten from family and friends? They are the people who have carried me through thus far. How will it be when that continuous support is gone? I wonder when I’ll start to feel normal again. I know my normal will never be the same. I’m changed because of this.

Shock

Last Fall, a friend of mine had a miscarriage. When I heard the news, I felt terrible. She was eleven weeks pregnant and went to her appointment for her second ultrasound. When they performed the ultrasound, there was no heartbeat. She had no physical signs of miscarriage- no bleeding or cramping- she had a “normal” pregnancy up to that point. What a horrific thing for someone to go through. I had no idea what she was feeling until a year later when I found myself in the same exact situation.

I was thirteen weeks pregnant and going for my second ultrasound.  I was excited to see the baby again. At the eight week ultrasound, we saw our little peanut and heard the swishing sound of the heartbeat. What a glorious sound! My husband was running a little late for this appointment so we decided to get started without him. I figured he could see the baby once he got there. First the tech. performed the belly ultrasound. She started by looking at the cyst on my left ovary that had been there since August and had been growing over the last three months. She told me the cyst had shrunk from 7 cm down to 2 cm.  I felt a sense of relief that it was going away on its own and the doctor would not have to go in and drain it. I was feeling good about things.

Soon we were looking at the baby and the gestational sac. As she was looking at the baby, she began to ask me questions. “So you had one other ultrasound before this? When was that? What clinic was that done at?” I answered her questions and began to wonder why she was asking these questions. She kept rubbing the instrument over my belly right where the baby was. I began to wonder about the heartbeat. At our last ultrasound, the tech. clearly pointed it out and let us listen to it. That wasn’t happening this time. Ryan still hadn’t arrived and I was starting to feel uneasy. Finally, she said she wanted to do a vaginal ultrasound because it was still early in the pregnancy and more could be seen. I went to the bathroom to relieve my bladder. As I looked in the mirror, my chest and neck were all blotchy. I was nervous and emotional. By the time I walked out of the bathroom, Ryan was walking into the clinic. I was relieved to see him, but still scared. We walked back into the room and she performed the belly ultrasound quickly again to show Ryan the baby. Again, she didn’t show us the heartbeat. Then she performed the vaginal ultrasound. I couldn’t see the screen at this point and I didn’t really want to. Again, the tech. asked me “So your doctor was just following up on the cyst and doing a normal checkup on the baby? You weren’t having any issues at all?” I responded and told her we had no issues and asked if everything was okay. She responded with “Unfortunately, I can’t give results out. That is not part of my job. The radiologist has to read the results first.” At that point I knew something was wrong. She preceded to tell me that she would make sure the radiologist read the results and got them over to my doctor before my appointment at 4:!5. As I lay there with my legs open staring at the brown cabinet doors in front of me, I knew my life was about to change. I hoped and prayed that I was just being my typical glass half-empty self, but somehow I knew that wasn’t the case.

We left the clinic with a sick feeling in our stomachs. Both of us knew something was wrong, but strongly didn’t want to believe it. Not much was said on the car ride from the ultrasound clinic to the doctor’s office. We were both holding onto to a small feeling of hope. I don’t know if I have ever prayed as much as I did in a span of twenty minutes as I did during that drive. Please God, help my baby to be healthy.

We sat in the waiting room, not saying much. The nurse called my name and we got to the room. She said she was going to take my blood pressure and pulse. I warned her it might be quite high because we had come from the ultrasound and I was feeling uneasy about things. She took my blood pressure once and it was off the charts. She said she wanted to take it again. Off the charts again. She told me the best thing to do was take some deep breaths. At that point, it took all that I had to not break down and cry.

When my doctor walked in, I knew immediately. The sick feeling that was already in my stomach multiplied times ten. The look on his face stole any bit of hope I still had in my body. I said, “Bad news?” He responded with a nod, sat in his chair, and rolled up right in front of us. Hot tears rolled down my face and I looked at my husband who had never looked so sad. The doctor started telling us about the ultrasound and about miscarriage. Thinking back on his words, I don’t remember much of what was said. I had fallen into a numb state of shock.

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