Friday of last week was a stressful day. The night before our condo was flooded with backed up sewage water, I had to pack up my stuff/my daughters stuff and go stay with a friend due to contamination and my being pregnant. After being up until 130 AM with my (almost) 3 yr old, I was finally able to go to sleep, only to have to be up again at 7am for an early appointment.
I headed to the hospital where my appointment was, daughter in tote. My husband would be meeting us there since he had to work right after. We checked in to the appointment, excited to see the baby in the u/s. We got started, the tech didn't say much but continued to take pictures... I know she was trying to get it off the screen before I could see it, but there it was, staring me back in the face. The CRL was only 8w and a few days.
My heart broke into a million pieces. It was like living through my experience of loss earlier this year all over again. The tech left, came back and the doc came in to double check, but nobody had actually said anything about the tiny baby aloud. The doctor, who I believe had done my consult earlier this year (and was a total dick) just blurted it out. "well, it doesn't look like we have a heartbeat." and continued on about his business like it was nothing. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek knowing what I'd be going through in the next few hours, days, weeks and even months.
I just rolled over while the doctor talked, looking at my little girl, apoligizing in my head that there wouldn't be another baby coming. Maybe not ever, at this rate. She jumped around and played, then saw me crying and asked what was wrong. I just told her "nothing" and she put her hand on my arm and said "you'll be ok mommy, dont cry."
But I did, and I do. After the u/s appointment I went back to the condo, only to find it torn apart and gutted. Random pieces of carpet were gone, the hardwood was ruined, every room in the 1000sqr foot condo was affected. My husband informed me that he wouldn't be able to take me to the hospital, he needed to stay there because of the demolition that needed to be done. A good friend of mine, who was due about 10 days after me, took me to the hospital. He told me that he'd meet me there and take me home, but that didn't happen either.
I spent the evening in the surgical wing of Overlake Hospital, crying, laughing, watching bad TV and trying to avoid the overwhelming thoughts that kept creeping in my head.The thought of not even knowing there was a problem with my pregnancy almost disgusts me. How could I not be connected to the little body I was supposed to be growing inside? Why didn't a red flag go up? I think the hardest part of this experience is that it brings back to surface all the things I felt when I lost the last baby. It's almost like I need to heal from that all over again because of the emotions that are brought back. I keep thinking, 7 months ago I lost a baby, then remember, only 7 days ago I lost one too. How do you heal from this loss, when the last one is still so fresh?
This was my third pregnancy. I am so grateful that the first one was a success, and that my little girl is healthy and happy, running around playing... She is the light at the end of my tunnel, what gets me out of bed in the morning. Mostly because if Im not up before her, she's not a nice surprise for me at diaper change time, but still... her and my husband, and the support of some great friends are what help me keep my head up every day. Even if at 24, this is the last time I'll ever be pregnant, I succeeded once. And although it breaks my heart to think or what would or could have been, she's all I could ever ask for in a kid.
No comments:
Post a Comment