How Quickly Things Change

I debated whether or not I would share anymore posts relating to my miscarriage, but I recently heard of a someone else's loss and decided that this would be worth sharing. Because people have told me that by opening up about baby loss, and all the experiences and complexities of it, it helps others understand, show compassion, give support, etc. And if just one person can benefit from this and help just one other person - then it's worth it for me to continue to share these personal reflections. The first is just a short entry I wrote one night when I had only known I was pregnant for a couple weeks. The second, written one month later, is a recap of the day I got the D&E.

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Originally written September 23, 2012:

Dear #3,

My friend Brooke had a clever nickname for her second baby while she was pregnant. . .the Deuce. Her first baby Eliza passed away too soon, like your brother Cale. I kinda wonder if we should have a nickname for you before we know a little more about who you are (ie –if you are a lad or a lassie).

I just felt compelled to write you tonight. At this moment, at only six weeks pregnant, and totally unsure what the future holds, I am incredibly excited about you – about the idea of you, about the life that we could maybe have with you. And I’m really happy to be this excited. Here I am, pregnant for the third time, with a history that could rightfully so make me want to crawl into a hole and wait for nine months to hopefully pass uneventfully, but instead, right now, I am just happy. So thank you baby – thank you for exciting us with possibility.

I love you already.

-Mom

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Originally written October 25, 2012:

The D&E was today. We woke up early to be at the hospital by 6:30, and to drop Finn off at a friend’s house. Sadly, this meant Miles actually got to sleep in a little bit. But it was a very early morning for Finn and me – we sure do love our sleep.

I looked for something to wear that I could maybe throw out later. Because whatever shirt I put on I would always associate it with the shirt I wore to the hospital the day I had a D&E. I remember doing the same thing with a bra I wore during Cale’s delivery. I had to throw it out. It was forever ruined.

I looked in the mirror and told Miles that my successful pregnancy outcome was one in three. He gave me a kiss and said if I was a baseball player that would be a good thing. I smiled briefly, then continued to get ready.

We got to the hospital and checked in with no problems except that we were already running late and didn't know it. Apparently we should have been there at 5:30 but were told the wrong time. They took care of all the pre-op stuff pretty fast though and all the nurses were wonderfully kind. I had blood drawn, an EKG (should something have gone wrong during the procedure they would have had this baseline), they put funny boot/socks things on to prevent blood clots in my legs, started an IV in my hand, took my blood pressure and all the other stand questions and pre-op procedures.

Eventually Miles was let back and sat with me as they started some of the meds. I remember talking to him and getting heavy eyes. And then I remember being in the surgery room and talking to my doctor. Don’t remember getting there though or saying goodbye to Miles. I remember asking if this is where they did C-Sections because it looked like it from pictures of C-Sections I've seen. I vaguely remember having to move to a different bed (gurney?) and I don’t remember much else – I remember a slight burning and tingling sensation as they administer the anesthesia and I’m not sure, but I think I said “my son who passed away was named Cale” – I think I wanted to tell my doctor that for some reason. She is kind and sweet, but his name had never come up in any of my previous appointments. I guess when I was woozy on meds and on my way out, it was important to tell her. After the surgery was complete she went to give Miles an update and had told him that I had gotten a little emotional. Maybe that’s what she was referring to. Before the surgery they said they’d need to put a tube in my throat to help me breathe. They didn't need to put one all the way in, but the air that was going in really dried out my throat and mouth and even as I type this at 9pm at night, my throat is probably the main physical discomfort I have.

When I “woke up” I was in another room. I said my throat hurt and they brought me some ice chips. The nurses were just as kind as they had been before everything. I smiled and asked my doctor if I still had my uterus. She said I sure did. Yesterday I had to sign some paperwork stating that in the event of an emergency or severe hemorrhaging  that a hysterectomy would be performed. Obviously a very, very rare and minor risk. But seeing as though statistics don’t really encourage me much anymore, it was nice to hear that everything was still intact when I woke up.

Then I was wheeled back to a room similar to the post-op room and Miles was let back to see me. He said my Doctor had come out to let him know that everything went fine and she thinks she got most of the tissue so I shouldn't bleed as much. I had to take some meds, go to the bathroom, and sign some papers and then was discharged only a few hours after arriving. I wasn't in much pain and haven’t really been throughout the day. Just tired and a little crampy. And my damn throat is annoying me more than anything. But overall, not a very physically demanding day. The emotional aspects are obviously different than the physical ones. I’ll work through those later though because they will be there for a while. For now, I’m headed back to bed.

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My miscarriage was not quite six weeks ago. I'm at a much better place of acceptance with it all than I was five weeks ago and I think the same will be true six weeks from now. I think a lot of that has to do with our experience with Cale - with losing a child that we saw, held, and felt like we knew. But a loss is still a loss and it's hard.

My friend Brooke (same one mentioned above) wrote a beautiful piece today about how far you can come from such horrible tragedy, and how much you can gain from it - but at the end of the day, how painfully sad and unfair it all still is. Please read her post as she writes it much better than I ever could.

To Addison and Andrew and Eliza . . .Happy Birthday precious ones. Wish you were here. 

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