On April 29th a shadow came over our family. I was getting ready for bed, and on my last trip to the restroom for the night, I saw spotting. I freaked! I have never experienced this with my pregnancies so I knew there had to be something wrong. I picked up my phone, searched on google, and learned that many women experience this through pregnancy with no significant need to worry. I hadn't even seen a doctor for the pregnancy so I had no physician to re-assure me. I picked up the phone again and dialed my wonderful friend C. She is an RN and whatever she had to say would make me feel better... I just knew it. So we spoke and she assured me that as long as it was light spotting, things would be ok. She did tell me what to look for in case things went further down hill and to get myself to a dr right away if I saw any other signs. So here I am on this Friday night, thinking about what the heck I should do since most doctors close for the weekend. I didn't get much sleep as the night started. I kept worrying that I was losing this precious life inside of me. I got up again and used the restroom around midnight, more spotting. I lost my composure. The only thing I could do at this point was cry. Cry for the unknown. Cry for the unfairness. Cry for the pain of knowing this was really happening.
Saturday morning came, I rushed to the restroom once again to check on the spotting only to find that it was getting to be a heavier spotting. I got dressed and told Kev to stay with the boys while I drove myself to the ER. I was fortunate enough to get there so early that there was no one else in line. This time, I have texts going out to a few friends for moral support. They tell me to hang in there and to be patient, this still may not be what I think it is... My heart sinks, for I know what I'm coming up against. As I wait in the lobby to be called into triage, I use the restroom again only to find heavy bleeding. At this point I know what is happening and my heart just breaks into a million pieces. Why? Why now? Why us? What have I done wrong? Who would place this gift in our family and then rip it away? Many thoughts crossed my mind. I blamed me... I blamed work... I blamed everything. Here I am sitting in this waiting area, alone, full of sorrow. The attending doc was useless... he saw me, didn't confirm a miscarriage because it was still an early pregnancy (although I think he was just trying to be vary vague...) and simply asked me to wait it out and see an OB on Monday morning. Great, what's the point of the ER visit if they can't even tell it to you straight right? By this time my friend Y had come by to see me and hold my hand, and I was so grateful that I had someone there that knew my pain.
I'm not an idiot, I knew what I was dealing with here and I didn't want to do it. I gathered myself up, left the ER and drove home. I cried the whole way... what else could I do? I laid down, curled up and just let my mind wrap itself around the thought that this was it. Here I was, unable to change the course that life had lead me on, and I was being forced to say goodbye to a little person I never got to meet. I felt so much anger and sadness and slowly felt my thoughts falling deeper into a dark place I hadn't really ever seen. Those who have been there know this... those who have not, don't quite ever understand. This loss wasn't just a loss, it was my child. A part of me, a piece of my heart, a little person I could never get back within this lifetime. I would do anything for my children, I'd give my own life... but in this case, I was left with no option. I had to say goodbye.
I spent the rest of the weekend buried in stories of other women dealing with this type of loss. I read the generic "there must have been something wrong with the pregnancy so this explains the loss." I read the "We will simply have to try again," and the "I never want to do this again." I read words of comfort and words that made me even more angry. It didn't matter what I read, I didn't feel any better. I was lost in my own thoughts, in my own grief. I didn't go to work on Monday, I saw a dr who then confirmed the miscarriage. Another blow to my already weak soul. I hated how this dr spoke to me, it felt like he saw this as a common event. It was not a common/casual event, it was my child. I felt like no one really understood what I was feeling at that very moment. I didn't want to talk to people, I didn't want to look at anyone, I didn't want to feel anything. I ended up back at work that week to keep myself distracted. I had to explain to my boss that I was a little weak and couldn't exactly lift all the shipments coming into school so I could get an extra hand. My plate was quite full at school as a business clerk at the end of the school year. My boss was understanding and I was able to get a little bit of support from the ladies in the office. I felt like a zombie for the next month. I functioned, I did what I had to do, but my heart and mind were somewhere else. I was lost.
Slowly I began to let people in, explained our situation at home. I hated the looks of pity I got but at this point I hated a lot of things. I began to open up more, I couldn't live like this, I had to push forward. No child of mine, here or in heaven would be proud of me if I simply pushed everything and everyone away. So I began the tough job of getting back out there... of seeing friends again... of joining my family for a Sunday breakfast. It was tough to keep up a happy face when my soul still felt shattered. As days passed, I focused more on the pending adoption process (we hadn't stopped it since we hadn't officially broken the news to anyone about being pregnant.) I thought to myself that now I had this tiny angel out there somewhere looking out for us, cheering us on. My faith in God and the afterlife kept (and still keeps) me going... I have to believe that this angel is out there waiting to meet me and that one day I'll finally get to meet this little person who was taken from our lives so soon. Maybe I couldn't be his/her mommy on earth but I hope to be after my time ends here.
So today is the one year anniversary of my child's death. It hurts today just like it did the day I learned what was happening. I remember the pain and although we find ourselves so close to the arrival of another son, I can't help but wonder what that lost child would have or could have been. I'm two weeks away from my due date... life has been more than generous to our family... we have many blessings surrounding us... but today I remember that although we do have so many blessings, everything comes with really rough patches along the road. Those rough patches make us grow in a way we can't imagine we can grow. I'm stronger today than I was one year ago. I'm a better mom today than I was a year ago. I hope to also be a better friend and wife today than I was a year ago. I will remember this day every year and I hope that slowly, the pain will fade. Maybe the pain will never go away, but I imagine that it can fade just enough for me to keep pushing forward in the most positive way I can. I'm still healing, and that's ok.
-Norm
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