it sucks

After I woke up and saw the blood, I knew it was bad. I called my midwife and she told me to drink a quart of water, eat some protein and go back to bed. Of course, I couldn't sleep.  She called me at 9 am when she got to the office and sent in the orders for an ultrasound. I wanted to know if the baby was alive or not. I had to wait until 2 pm for that to happen.  The bleeding had stopped right after I talked to my midwife at 5 am but came back at 10am and this time the blood was reddish brown, not brown like it had started. I sobbed so hard and hit the bed with my fist. I knew in my heart it was over.

It made it worse I didn't feel much of a connection with my midwife, although I know she is a wonderful midwife and person. We had only met for one appointment when I was about 8 weeks along.  I called my doctor (from my daughter's birth 3 years earlier) and told her what was happening, and she was very kind and tried to play devil's advocate about the ultrasound. I thanked her and told her I had a few hours to decide. I knew I had to do it.  I couldn't go on another month or two months thinking I was pregnant and making my friends and family and especially my children think I was.  

We took my daughter to preschool, ate a solemn lunch at Chipotle and went to the Radiology clinic.  I asked the technician if she would be able to tell  me if the baby was alive and she said, "yes." And then I asked if it wasn't alive what would she do, and she said she would have to get the doctor. The external part of the ultrasound I could see a little bit (I could have asked her to push the screen toward me but I didn't really want to see). I watched Jevon's face and knew it wasn't good.  When I peeked over one time I saw a misshapen blob. The internal ultrasound I could not see at all. Later, my husband told me there was a point where it seemed she was looking for a heartbeat and he saw a flatline across the screen. He was nearly in tears the whole time. I still had this crazy hope that she just wasn't reading it right.

Well, she had to go get the doctor.  He was very nice, asked us about ourselves--where we lived, what we did for jobs, how many kids we had. He looked at the screen and told me there were two possibilities: that I was only six weeks along and the baby didn't have a heartbeat yet, or that my baby had died a few weeks ago. I knew it was impossible I was only six weeks along. I was 12 weeks along.  The images on the screen were awful. It was a black hole in my womb.  And that's how I felt at that moment--empty and robbed of a dream.

My husband lost it and just started bawling. I sat there in disbelief. I think I had been crying all day and couldn't do it again at that moment.  We had a moment to ourselves and the doc came back in. He was very kind and told us his wife had 4 miscarriages and "it sucks."

I asked my husband if he thought he could drive us to pick up the kids and he said he thought he would be okay as long as he didn't hear me telling anyone the news. He knew I would cry and then he wouldn't be able to stop crying.

We stopped at the store for some comfort food: a bag of chocolate cookies, and when we came outside, I saw one of my best friends in her car. She also had a miscarriage at 12 weeks. I walked up to her and told her, and we both embraced and sobbed so hard our bodies were shaking. She said, "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

Then I had to go get my son from school (early). He kept asking why I got him early, and I finally had to say "because the baby died." Oh, he sobbed. At first his mouth was open and no sound came out and then this wail came out of him that was heartbreaking. "I wanted a baby!" he cried.  

My daughter was next. When she got in the car, I was in the back hugging my son and she said, "Mommy, why are you in the backseat." I said, "I'm hugging K because we're sad. The baby died today." Loud wails came from her mouth and I scooped her into my arms and held her like a baby. She cried and cried and cried.  

We came home and she just kept crying, saying things like "I want the baby to be alive" or "I wish you had twins and one was still alive in there" and "I really wanted a baby." And everytime, I would just sob.

I told them that the baby was so lucky to be so loved and that those two had given him/her so much love. And she said, "I hope the baby still has that love in its body."

The next day husband left with my daughter for a birthday party and she kissed me and then kissed the baby, as she had done every day. I just lost it.  I heard her saying to my husband as they walked out the door, "I didn't know mom was going to cry about the baby today. I'm still sad too."

A couple of days later, I was lying in my bed and my daughter crawled in bed next to me.

"Mom, you're still the baby's mom, you know."
Such wisdom from such a small person...

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