Monday, October 28, 2013
Until We Meet Again
A total of 50hrs. From the positive test to the confirmational ultrasound. Somehow you were there. Our miracle baby. What else could we call you? What were the chances the operation done two years ago failed? Vasectomy's are not supposed to fail. And I only have one ovary. So a miracle is all it could be.
I cried, I was shocked. What were we going to do? We didn't want anymore. We would have to start all over again, our youngest is almost finally out of diapers. How we could afford another one? How the heck did this happen after two years?
Okay, we thought. No matter what we can do this. Really what is one more? Our age, well it's not like we're 60.
Tuesday morning came and I confirm with a doctor. That night the bleeding started, Wednesday I woke up and it didn't stop. In my heart, I knew something was wrong. I screamed and yelled at God. How could he give us something that wasn't supposed to be only to take it away? And then do it while my husband wasn't even in the Country. How cruel was that. One of the things I spat over and over was that I wasn't Job. I wasn't a pawn in some stupid game between God and the Devil. I was me, and this was an innocent baby.
I took the kids out of school and had my mother stay with them, then went to Emergency. I tried to make light of everything. Surely, the bleeding was nothing. There was no cramping, it just wouldn't stop. It was a crazy last few months, so I had no idea when my last mensus was. Only that I for sure hadn't had one in September and October and possibly August. I should have been about 15weeks. When they couldn't find a heartbeat, my head spun and it felt like my heart was smashed apart with a sledgehammer.
An hour or so later the blood work came back, my proteins were just too low for how long they estimated me to be. The only thing left was to confirm through an ultrasound. By then my cell was dead and I had no idea what time it was anymore. I slept on the gurney in between doctors and transports.
They did an internal ultrasound. The tech wouldn't tell me nothing. But the things she did, I could tell I really was miscarrying. As she wrote up her numbers she moved to the side just a bit. I could see some of the pics. He wasn't as big as he should have been. He just didn't look right. My heart sank to my stomach. My mind shut off, except for that silent scream to God. "Why?!"
Shortly after I was transported back and slept until the doctor came in. She said, "sorry". Explained that the proteins again were really low, the baby was only measuring 6+weeks and had no heartbeat. AFter that, nothing made sense. I couldn't go back. I conceeded. Yelling and pleading did nothing to save my baby. He was long gone even before we knew he was there. All I could do, with my anger spent and tears flowing in between the numbing reality, I told God that if I was going to be able to survive this, I needed to know that when it was my turn I would get to meet him and know him in Heaven. Really, that's all I have now. Besides the picture of the positive pregnancy test and the hospital bracelet.
The gynocologist came in and went through my options. Since my body wasn't doing it naturally, they had some pills or I could do a D&C. I needed to get home to my other kids and a D&C is digging and suctioning the baby out. The thought of that was worse than knowing I lost him. I opted for the pills. I was given a req form for Tuesday for HCG level testing and the name of an OB they set me up with. Another time later I was given the pills but no T3 scrip for the pain. I was in too much shock to ask. I mean when the gynie asked if I had questions for her, I asked when i could start working out again. Logic was not prevailing.
I left, somehow drove home in tears, got the kids and myself mcdonalds on the way. As soon as I got home the flood gates opened. I'm not sure how I thought this was better than a D&C. They don't tell you how much blood. Oh my Lord, there was so much blood. For four to five hours, the pain and other things knocked me to my knees. You're supposed to go back if you go through more than one pad in an hour. REally? Of course you are. I'm surprised one has any left in them after that.
Then the doctors offices calling the next two days. Both at the same times. Both at the time we heard no heartbeat on the doppler the day at the hospital. 1:30pm on and the sadness hits like a deep wave. It doesn't end until I wake the next morning. Only to start all over again at the same time the next day.
From another Country my husband was supportive and made two calls home, texting the rest of the time. He arrived home early this morning and held me until we fell asleep. The picture above I drew to commemorate our miracle child that was gone way too soon. Free flowing and no distinct features or shape to show he is going to be whatever he chooses to be. It will be known one day, just not right now.
I'm still numb. I still want to cry every second of every day. I still want to know "why?" I still want to crawl under blankets and never come out. It hurts to see so many have their babies. Not that I'm not happy, but that being happy for them somehow means I am dishonoring my recently passed baby. My heart and my arms ache madly for the baby I will never hold. A baby, that while wasn't planned for, was loved within minutes of knowing he existed. I'm still angry and confused that I didn't know I was pregnant. I blame myself for what happened. If I had known I would have done so many things differently. I just want him back.
The picture above will eventually also be a tattoo, and we have decided to give him a name. But for now, I just need to get through this day.