It's not every day that you have an experience that changes everything about you. I don't really know how to say any of this in a way that will not hurt, or in a way that will be easy to read. I don't have the mental or emotional energy to re-account all of the things that have happened in the past week and a half. The best way I can think of to do this is to just share my journal entry from 7/23 with you.
[We found out yesterday that we will not be having a baby in January like we thought. At my regular 16 week appointment the Dr. could not find a heartbeat. She was careful not to let on that anything was wrong. But I knew. Somehow I knew it was bad. She kept her cool as she ushered us down to the sonogram room. I laid back and as soon as the sono tech put the probe on my tummy I could see that nothing was right. She sped through all of the pictures and measurements she needed to take with her eyes welling up with tears. No heartbeat. No movement. It was bad news. I wasn't shocked. I remember hearing Kevin take a sharp breath in when she said, "yes, it's bad news..i'm so sorry...I'm going to go get the Dr." I remember thinking....OK...now what? I sort of thought we were in the clear...
The Dr. came in to talk to us. Most of that is a blur. Everything was slowly processing. My brain was in slow motion, everything sounded like I was hearing it through water and my thoughts started racing.
This is really happening... the baby is dead. This is true about my life now. Yes, this is really happening. Now I know what the word really means... Miscarriage. You can't know until it is your word--true about you. A death. a giant hole ripped right through your heart and soul. It feels like drowning. Like the weight of the world is crushing in on me from every side. This is really happening. this is not a dream. Or is it?
Can I please wake up?
Please be a dream. Please be a dream.
The Dr. is still talking. Chromosomal abnormality. the brain, the vital organs, nothing is right. there is nothing we could have done. She said, this is rare, we don't lose many babies this far along. Less than one percent.
More blurring. My head is sort of spinning. She says the D&C will be safest. (I don't remember the other options, but none of them sounded safe or easy.) OK. So, this is really happening. OK. what's next?
She says I'm taking this really well, but hands me a bunch of kleenex for the drive home--says it will hit me in the car. It didn't. It didn't hit me until I had to say it out loud. Poor Kim. She got the first phone call. My trial run--I just wanted to see how hard it would be. Harder than I could have ever imagine. Then it was real. it was really true and I had still not woken up. This sucks. Now what....
Tell everyone else. hug maddie. cry more. sleep. keep going i guess.]
The d&c was last tuesday. The dr.s and nurses took wonderful care of me. The procedure went perfectly, but I lost a lot of blood. It took forever to get my blood pressure up so that I could go home from the hospital. I was very tired and weak for a few days afterward. It's been a week now and I feel a lot better. Emotionally and physically, every day gets easier.
We love each other and Maddie more. We appreciate everyone in our lives more. We have so much to be thankful for. Our families and friends have shown us so much love and support. We could never say thank you enough. Bringing food, taking care of me, taking care of maddie, calling, sending cards and flowers, praying for us--just everything. We couldn't have made it through this hard time without all of the care and support from everyone. This is a road I never would have chosen, but I know we are very blessed, and we will learn, grow, love, and appreciate more now that we have had this experience.
