Baby left me just as quickly as he had come.
Erwin sat waiting in the lobby with the 2 kids. He was taking a long lunch from work to come with me to the appointment and we decided to take the kids with us instead of find a sitter. My OB was in a delivery, so after what seemed like forever of waiting, her nurse came back to give me a heartbeat checkup.
She let me know that if we can't hear the heart, to not panic. She said she wasn't very good with the doppler. I waited patiently as she searched. No heartbeat. So she wheeled in the ultrasound machine. She again declared that she isn't the best at using the machine, so to have patience. By this time, I was starting to get nervous. I was taking deep breaths and talking to God, like I always do when I am anxious.
Again, no heartbeat. She then asked a fellow nurse to go get a "provider". I sat up and frantically texted Erwin and told him what was happening, but to not panic yet. Then, a very, very kind OB came in. She was soft spoken and so sweet. She was younger with soft curly brown hair, glasses and kind of a little lisp. She told me she wanted to do a vaginal ultrasound just to really get a good look. That is when I think I knew. Especially when my nurse came and stood by my head and held my hand. That clinched it.
The Dr spoke so kindly to me. I'll never forget her leaning over to get closer to my face. "I see baby. He is right here. But I am so sorry, there is unfortunately no heartbeat."
It took no time at all for me to immediately burst into tears. My first question: "Did I do something? Was this my fault?" She held my other hand and assured me that it wasn't. They then let me cry for a few minutes and I didn't even feel embarrassed. With my hand covering my face, I then let them know Erwin was in the lobby with the 2 kids, but that I didn't want them to see me this way. Thankfully, my kind nurse told me she would watch our kids in the hallway and go get Erwin for me.
I sat up. Left alone in the room until he arrived. A soft knock on the door and then he appeared. The nurse had let him know before he entered that the baby had passed. He came and embraced me and then we both started to sob. Like, really, sob. "I'm sorry." he whispered. "Me too honey." We couldn't believe it. We felt like we had been punched in the stomach and I couldn't breathe.
I felt like time had stopped. The room was spinning and I felt exhausted. Now, I understand biology and science. And I know it was more of a fetus than a full grown baby. But it was my baby. In my head and in my heart. He was mine. And just like that I felt broken and lost.
After giving us a moment alone, the Dr came back in to talk to us about what the next step would be. "You are far along enough that we don't recommend having you wait to miscarry. We would like to surgically remove your baby. Delivery could be an option, but we think this is best."
I tearfully agreed and Erwin started asking lots of questions; his face stained with tears. We got a lot of information about what to expect, though I didn't remember a word of it and the reassurance that again this was not our fault, and that we have support if needed. They then left us alone once more. I called my mom to let her know what happened. She said she would rush to the hospital to take the kids so Erwin and I could process things alone and the kids wouldn't see me cry. Erwin then called his parents next. His voice cracked and the tears flowed as he told his mom and dad that we lost the baby. It was such a heavy phone call to make.
All of a sudden, my original OB had come back from surgery and rushed to the room. She gave me a hug and gave her condolences. I was annoyed bc she had an intern come into the room with her. She stood quietly by the wall and didn't say a word. I didn't want her there and was bothered by my lack of privacy. But it was all forgotten as the Dr started talking to me about my upcoming surgery.
Details seemed simple, and yet so devastating. It would be in almost a week. She would perform it. In total it takes 30 minutes, but the procedure would be 45 overall. She then suggested that I get my gallbladder surgery right after and she would coordinate with the surgeon to make that happen. Well...okay I guess.
Erwin and I finally left the little room where we had our hearts broken. We found our children being well taken care of by the nurse. I just looked at them playing on the floor so quietly. I felt so sad that they weren't going to get the new sibling that I had told them all about.
It was after 5 p.m. The office was empty, and for that I was grateful. No one would see my bloodshot eyes and smeared makeup. My mom met us in front of the building and loaded up the kids. She gave us big hugs and money to go get something to eat and told us to take our time. I was so grateful for her.
Erwin and I sat in the car in silence. I started bawling again. Our baby was gone. Gone. All my plans for him. The future I was starting to make for all of us as a family of 5. I had always envisioned us telling the same awesome story over and over about how I found out I was pregnant and that this baby was a miracle surprise baby. And that we couldn't have been more happy that he bounced into our lives out of no where and we couldn't imagine it any other way. But...it was gone. All of it. It was taken from us and I was devastated.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I was uncertain about how to feel. It took me a while to adjust to the idea. How did this happen so fast? And without trying? How am I pregnant with a baby when I still have a small baby at home? But I'll never forget the ultrasound I had where they first found my hematoma. Baby was so big to me. His head and body were forming well. He little legs and arms were swinging all over the place and he looked beautiful. Beautiful. That is what I told Erwin when I called him in tears telling him that day about the bleed I had. The Dr's tried to get me to focus on the bleed itself, but all I could do was watch my baby bounce around and kick. He was...so beautiful.
I must confess though. I wondered if I should become less attached after the news of the bleed. You know how it is, the higher you let your hopes up, the further they have to fall. And even though every day I felt like a ticking time bomb, or a spinning top that was waiting to fall....I still had hope. So much hope. And even though I always felt that something was different during this entire pregnancy up to this point, I could never imagine the intense pain that was going to inflict itself upon me.
After I got a good other cry out, Erwin wiped away my tears and then his own. He suggested we go get something to eat. He took me to the Cheesecake Factory. I was not in the mood to go to a nice place with billions of people. I was frustrated with his suggestion. But he seemed to really want to, so I put on some more makeup and sunglasses to hide my face. We got in and requested a part of the restaurant that was more private. No one could see us in this booth, and by some miracle they made it work and gave it to us. When the time came, I ordered a steak-- cooked medium with a Dr. Pepper. When the food came and was placed in front of me, I burst into tears. I was eating and drinking the very things that the Dr suggested I stay away from while pregnant. And there I sat... not pregnant anymore. And with the first drink and bite, I felt guilty. And sad. And angry. Our waiter seemed like some goofy California dude who didn't seem to pick up on any emotion from us, and I was grateful for that. He made it less awkward by being naturally air-heady himself. Erwin started texting his boss and let him know he was not coming into work for a week. As he informed his co workers as well, he started to silently cry. He put on his sunglasses to hide his tears and compose himself. It was weird that we were out in public while we were such a mess. But we couldn't seem to figure anything else out. I couldn't finish my food. We left and made the trip back to my parents to go pick up the kids.
By the time we got there, we both had calmed down. We chatted for a bit with my parents and gave them a bit more detail about the day and future plans. We thanked them profusely for watching the kids for hours while we took time to be alone. We loaded up the kids and headed home.
That night was one of the worst I've ever had. I slept maybe a total of 3 hours. I tossed and turned. I felt anxious. Overwhelmed. Numb. Devastated. Erwin too had a rough night. Eventually around 4 a.m., he rolled over and asked me if I was able to get any sleep. I then buried my head into his chest and began to sob. The hot tears stung my eyes and soaked Erwin's shirt. I couldn't stop the heavy emotions that flooded out. "I'm just so heartbroken" I whispered to him. He hugged me tighter and let me cry and cry in that dark room. My baby was gone. Gone. And I couldn't breathe. I felt so lost. So alone. And so, so sad.
To be perfectly honest, I also struggled to not be bothered that I was walking around with baby inside of me. Why would my body do this? I'm supposed to be a vessel for life, not a place to carry the deceased. After a few days, I decided to not think about it. But then I would be reminded because my body still thought I was pregnant. My stomach was feeling tighter and more firm. My breasts becoming tender. And I hated it. It is such a strange feeling to know that you are still carrying a baby, and yet you aren't. It's a play with my emotions that I just couldn't seem to handle at times.
As each day passed until surgery, I would go through a different flow of thoughts and emotions. I had let my family and closest friends know. And the support was overwhelming. But all I wanted was to be was alone. I didn't want to see or talk to anybody and just bury myself in my room and cry all day. But, the timing wasn't good. We had my mom's birthday and also Wa'a's birthday. I put on my brave face and pulled up my big girl pants and did my best to be happy and celebrate. They were nice distractions, but then when the day was done, I was back to being numb and heartbroken. As my sister Cami and I chatted, we both talked about as hard as it is, the world still goes on and life still needs to be good and lived well. It's as true now and it was then. But I hated that at times. I didn't like going out to public places and have people ask me how I am doing, and have everyone else around me have no idea what just happened to me and the pain I was in. There world had no idea what mine was going through and their lives were going round and round. It was hard. Still is.
As the days ticked on, I had lots of conversations with the Lord. I knew all the perfect Sunday School answers. You know, the ones that people think should offer all the comfort in the world...I'm not gonna even write them bc I know you know what they are too. And they are comforting. And they are so eternally saving and comforting. But not always right away. I didn't want to hear them. And that's ok. As I was chatting with one of my best friends, she told me that it's normal to be sad and angry and confused and just...not ok. As long as it didn't turn to anger or resentment toward the Lord, but to go ahead and fill like you wanna give the world the big ol' middle finger and cry--heck, even yell "This sucks! I'm hurt and sad and broken and I'm going to stay this way for as long as my heart needs!!" And it felt oh-so-good. I was thankful that she just let me be....mad and sad for as long as I needed.
This experience has been lonely, for no one truly knows how your heart is broken, unless they have gone through it themselves. And even then, each experience and pain is unique.
But as time has gone on, it's been a tragically beautiful journey of loss, love, finding Christ in the dark and having Him let me know that even though a piece of my heart is gone, and even though I feel broken, there is healing. Incredibly amazing healing. But, it's still a long road. Thank goodness Christ is by my side.
For all the mothers and fathers who have lost their babies too soon, I love you. We are in this together.
Erwin sat waiting in the lobby with the 2 kids. He was taking a long lunch from work to come with me to the appointment and we decided to take the kids with us instead of find a sitter. My OB was in a delivery, so after what seemed like forever of waiting, her nurse came back to give me a heartbeat checkup.
She let me know that if we can't hear the heart, to not panic. She said she wasn't very good with the doppler. I waited patiently as she searched. No heartbeat. So she wheeled in the ultrasound machine. She again declared that she isn't the best at using the machine, so to have patience. By this time, I was starting to get nervous. I was taking deep breaths and talking to God, like I always do when I am anxious.
Again, no heartbeat. She then asked a fellow nurse to go get a "provider". I sat up and frantically texted Erwin and told him what was happening, but to not panic yet. Then, a very, very kind OB came in. She was soft spoken and so sweet. She was younger with soft curly brown hair, glasses and kind of a little lisp. She told me she wanted to do a vaginal ultrasound just to really get a good look. That is when I think I knew. Especially when my nurse came and stood by my head and held my hand. That clinched it.
The Dr spoke so kindly to me. I'll never forget her leaning over to get closer to my face. "I see baby. He is right here. But I am so sorry, there is unfortunately no heartbeat."
It took no time at all for me to immediately burst into tears. My first question: "Did I do something? Was this my fault?" She held my other hand and assured me that it wasn't. They then let me cry for a few minutes and I didn't even feel embarrassed. With my hand covering my face, I then let them know Erwin was in the lobby with the 2 kids, but that I didn't want them to see me this way. Thankfully, my kind nurse told me she would watch our kids in the hallway and go get Erwin for me.
I sat up. Left alone in the room until he arrived. A soft knock on the door and then he appeared. The nurse had let him know before he entered that the baby had passed. He came and embraced me and then we both started to sob. Like, really, sob. "I'm sorry." he whispered. "Me too honey." We couldn't believe it. We felt like we had been punched in the stomach and I couldn't breathe.
I felt like time had stopped. The room was spinning and I felt exhausted. Now, I understand biology and science. And I know it was more of a fetus than a full grown baby. But it was my baby. In my head and in my heart. He was mine. And just like that I felt broken and lost.
After giving us a moment alone, the Dr came back in to talk to us about what the next step would be. "You are far along enough that we don't recommend having you wait to miscarry. We would like to surgically remove your baby. Delivery could be an option, but we think this is best."
I tearfully agreed and Erwin started asking lots of questions; his face stained with tears. We got a lot of information about what to expect, though I didn't remember a word of it and the reassurance that again this was not our fault, and that we have support if needed. They then left us alone once more. I called my mom to let her know what happened. She said she would rush to the hospital to take the kids so Erwin and I could process things alone and the kids wouldn't see me cry. Erwin then called his parents next. His voice cracked and the tears flowed as he told his mom and dad that we lost the baby. It was such a heavy phone call to make.
All of a sudden, my original OB had come back from surgery and rushed to the room. She gave me a hug and gave her condolences. I was annoyed bc she had an intern come into the room with her. She stood quietly by the wall and didn't say a word. I didn't want her there and was bothered by my lack of privacy. But it was all forgotten as the Dr started talking to me about my upcoming surgery.
Details seemed simple, and yet so devastating. It would be in almost a week. She would perform it. In total it takes 30 minutes, but the procedure would be 45 overall. She then suggested that I get my gallbladder surgery right after and she would coordinate with the surgeon to make that happen. Well...okay I guess.
Erwin and I finally left the little room where we had our hearts broken. We found our children being well taken care of by the nurse. I just looked at them playing on the floor so quietly. I felt so sad that they weren't going to get the new sibling that I had told them all about.
It was after 5 p.m. The office was empty, and for that I was grateful. No one would see my bloodshot eyes and smeared makeup. My mom met us in front of the building and loaded up the kids. She gave us big hugs and money to go get something to eat and told us to take our time. I was so grateful for her.
Erwin and I sat in the car in silence. I started bawling again. Our baby was gone. Gone. All my plans for him. The future I was starting to make for all of us as a family of 5. I had always envisioned us telling the same awesome story over and over about how I found out I was pregnant and that this baby was a miracle surprise baby. And that we couldn't have been more happy that he bounced into our lives out of no where and we couldn't imagine it any other way. But...it was gone. All of it. It was taken from us and I was devastated.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I was uncertain about how to feel. It took me a while to adjust to the idea. How did this happen so fast? And without trying? How am I pregnant with a baby when I still have a small baby at home? But I'll never forget the ultrasound I had where they first found my hematoma. Baby was so big to me. His head and body were forming well. He little legs and arms were swinging all over the place and he looked beautiful. Beautiful. That is what I told Erwin when I called him in tears telling him that day about the bleed I had. The Dr's tried to get me to focus on the bleed itself, but all I could do was watch my baby bounce around and kick. He was...so beautiful.
I must confess though. I wondered if I should become less attached after the news of the bleed. You know how it is, the higher you let your hopes up, the further they have to fall. And even though every day I felt like a ticking time bomb, or a spinning top that was waiting to fall....I still had hope. So much hope. And even though I always felt that something was different during this entire pregnancy up to this point, I could never imagine the intense pain that was going to inflict itself upon me.
After I got a good other cry out, Erwin wiped away my tears and then his own. He suggested we go get something to eat. He took me to the Cheesecake Factory. I was not in the mood to go to a nice place with billions of people. I was frustrated with his suggestion. But he seemed to really want to, so I put on some more makeup and sunglasses to hide my face. We got in and requested a part of the restaurant that was more private. No one could see us in this booth, and by some miracle they made it work and gave it to us. When the time came, I ordered a steak-- cooked medium with a Dr. Pepper. When the food came and was placed in front of me, I burst into tears. I was eating and drinking the very things that the Dr suggested I stay away from while pregnant. And there I sat... not pregnant anymore. And with the first drink and bite, I felt guilty. And sad. And angry. Our waiter seemed like some goofy California dude who didn't seem to pick up on any emotion from us, and I was grateful for that. He made it less awkward by being naturally air-heady himself. Erwin started texting his boss and let him know he was not coming into work for a week. As he informed his co workers as well, he started to silently cry. He put on his sunglasses to hide his tears and compose himself. It was weird that we were out in public while we were such a mess. But we couldn't seem to figure anything else out. I couldn't finish my food. We left and made the trip back to my parents to go pick up the kids.
By the time we got there, we both had calmed down. We chatted for a bit with my parents and gave them a bit more detail about the day and future plans. We thanked them profusely for watching the kids for hours while we took time to be alone. We loaded up the kids and headed home.
That night was one of the worst I've ever had. I slept maybe a total of 3 hours. I tossed and turned. I felt anxious. Overwhelmed. Numb. Devastated. Erwin too had a rough night. Eventually around 4 a.m., he rolled over and asked me if I was able to get any sleep. I then buried my head into his chest and began to sob. The hot tears stung my eyes and soaked Erwin's shirt. I couldn't stop the heavy emotions that flooded out. "I'm just so heartbroken" I whispered to him. He hugged me tighter and let me cry and cry in that dark room. My baby was gone. Gone. And I couldn't breathe. I felt so lost. So alone. And so, so sad.
To be perfectly honest, I also struggled to not be bothered that I was walking around with baby inside of me. Why would my body do this? I'm supposed to be a vessel for life, not a place to carry the deceased. After a few days, I decided to not think about it. But then I would be reminded because my body still thought I was pregnant. My stomach was feeling tighter and more firm. My breasts becoming tender. And I hated it. It is such a strange feeling to know that you are still carrying a baby, and yet you aren't. It's a play with my emotions that I just couldn't seem to handle at times.
As each day passed until surgery, I would go through a different flow of thoughts and emotions. I had let my family and closest friends know. And the support was overwhelming. But all I wanted was to be was alone. I didn't want to see or talk to anybody and just bury myself in my room and cry all day. But, the timing wasn't good. We had my mom's birthday and also Wa'a's birthday. I put on my brave face and pulled up my big girl pants and did my best to be happy and celebrate. They were nice distractions, but then when the day was done, I was back to being numb and heartbroken. As my sister Cami and I chatted, we both talked about as hard as it is, the world still goes on and life still needs to be good and lived well. It's as true now and it was then. But I hated that at times. I didn't like going out to public places and have people ask me how I am doing, and have everyone else around me have no idea what just happened to me and the pain I was in. There world had no idea what mine was going through and their lives were going round and round. It was hard. Still is.
As the days ticked on, I had lots of conversations with the Lord. I knew all the perfect Sunday School answers. You know, the ones that people think should offer all the comfort in the world...I'm not gonna even write them bc I know you know what they are too. And they are comforting. And they are so eternally saving and comforting. But not always right away. I didn't want to hear them. And that's ok. As I was chatting with one of my best friends, she told me that it's normal to be sad and angry and confused and just...not ok. As long as it didn't turn to anger or resentment toward the Lord, but to go ahead and fill like you wanna give the world the big ol' middle finger and cry--heck, even yell "This sucks! I'm hurt and sad and broken and I'm going to stay this way for as long as my heart needs!!" And it felt oh-so-good. I was thankful that she just let me be....mad and sad for as long as I needed.
This experience has been lonely, for no one truly knows how your heart is broken, unless they have gone through it themselves. And even then, each experience and pain is unique.
But as time has gone on, it's been a tragically beautiful journey of loss, love, finding Christ in the dark and having Him let me know that even though a piece of my heart is gone, and even though I feel broken, there is healing. Incredibly amazing healing. But, it's still a long road. Thank goodness Christ is by my side.
For all the mothers and fathers who have lost their babies too soon, I love you. We are in this together.
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