I’m not quite sure how to tell this story, or experience rather, that has ended. I’ve wrestled with if… and how… and what would be in this blog if I ever wrote it. We lost our third child when I was 5 months pregnant; that baby was due this month, August.
The biggest thing I wrestled with on if/when/how I was going to write this post was the sadness that it would bring to those who read it and also the unnecessary fear it might instill in all the Mamas-to-Be. There are no two-ways about it; this story is a sad and devastating one, there is no getting around that. And coming from me, who is an eternal optimist, I just couldn’t come to grips with what I would share. So yes, this post is mostly for me, to get some of what I’m holding in my soul out…the rest, I’m not sure what to do with and how to process.
I told my husband we were expecting our 3rd child on Christmas :) I went out and bought a keychain that had 3 birthstones in it; our daughter’s, our son’s, and one for August to represent this new baby. He was ELATED; this is a man who would have 8 children if I allowed it! I was nauseous from conception…yes, literally! By 5 months I had actually lost 12 pounds. I went to my midwife for all the usual visits and had all the testing done from blood work to the tests you opt for (and since insurance pays, why not!) One of the tests was the Triple screen which can tell you if your baby is at risk for any number of birth defects, abnormalities as well as Down Syndrome and Trisomy. For me, with my last two pregnancies, I always opted for this test (because it meant an ultrasound, and I got to see my baby!!) So I went in at 12 weeks for this test which is a combo of blood screen and ultrasound. The tech did the measurements, then did them again, then seemed frustrated and said she needed another opinion. In comes the Neonatologist to perform the ultrasound (mind you I’m by myself since my husband is out of town). He said the neck measurements seem high; stops mid sentence and announces I need to see the genetic counselor right now. Believe it or not, I’m still not nervous, scared, etc…just more stunned that this is the way it’s going down. So after meeting with the genetic counselor and asking her questions SHE had to look up, I felt confident that our baby was just fine. I know stats, I understand how data is derived (thanks to a previous life in Pharmaceuticals) so the numbers were on my side. I still left the office fearful…fearful for the unknown. I was given the option to have a procedure done right then and there where they would take a sample of the placenta to narrow the results more. It would still not give us definitive results so I opted to forego the test; there was NO reason to put our baby at risk because I HAD TO KNOW. So that meant we had to wait until 20 weeks to have the Level 2 Ultrasound, which is basically the ultrasound to check for anatomy, but in this case it’s performed by the Neonatologist who is looking for very specific markers or other clues there may be a problem. 8 weeks, EIGHT WEEKS, we waited with our own thoughts of unknowing and fear and questions.
My hubby and I walked hand-in-hand into the 20 week ultrasound. We talked about whether our baby was a boy or girl, if he/she would resemble our daughter or our son. I think we both were ready for that “A-OK”. Seriously. Truly.
The tech starts the ultrasound; moves the wand around, presses harder. The questions I’m asking about is the baby sleeping, etc, go unanswered. She then quickly takes her gloves off and excuses herself from the room. My husband and I just look at each other…no emotion. Then the Neonatologist comes in and says he’d like a look at the baby, and asked if that was okay. He proceeds to repeat the same steps as the tech; then stops, removes his gloves and announces our baby has passed away. I had just felt kicks and movement 2 days prior. I was prepared to be told our baby had an abnormality, I was prepared to be told our baby had Down Syndrome, I was even prepared to be told our baby wouldn’t survive much after birth; but I DID NOT expect to be told our baby died in utero at 5 months gestation. I wasn’t prepared for it, it wasn’t even an option I had in my head. I cried, and cried, I couldn’t see for hours because my eyes would not stop filling with tears. I have never cried that much. This all came at such an amazing time in my life when things were going too well; I blogged briefly about it here.
My husband was supposed to leave after the “happy” ultrasound to go away for work; he asked, pleaded even, if I wanted him to stay. I said no. You may judge me for that, and for some of my other decisions you’ll read in this post, but it’s me, it’s how I handle things, and it’s what I wanted. I didn’t want to be THIS sad and have him there to just watch me. THAT was even sadder to me. So he left to drive about 8 hours to where he was working and I went straight to the OBGYN’s office; apparently this was out of my midwife’s jurisdiction and I had to be referred to their OBGYN.
The OB was the most amazing MD I have ever met (and mind you I have met and had relationships with over a THOUSAND because of my previous career). He was genuinely soft, and kind, and careful with me. He explained to me that I was too far along for certain procedures typically performed with miscarriage, and I would have to deliver the baby. I’m thinking…this CAN’T be happening to me. Losing a baby at 5 months gestation isn’t bad enough, now I have to labor and deliver this baby. We discussed how I felt movement 2 days prior so the baby had to have passed away sometime between then and today. Then he says something I again wasn’t prepared for; I would need to be admitted today.
I call my husband who is about 4 hours into his trip and ask him to come home. As soon as he got home late that night we headed to the hospital. It was March 22nd, my Dad’s birthday. I will not go into much detail about the rest of my stay. It was more physical pain than I’ve ever experienced and I’ve had 2 natural births, it was sadder than my heart has ever felt, and it was devastating. I birthed our baby on March 24th, my niece’s birthday. Yes, I was in labor for 2 days; it was a nightmare that I prayed I’d wake up from. I have never in my life wanted to alter my state of being, I’ve in fact NEVER done any type of drugs; and during my stay I took all the narcotics I was allowed at every interval I was allowed. My OB was amazing and empathetic he talked to me and told me not to feel guilty for taking the narcotics. But I did; I felt guilty for so much, and for no reason. After a lot of hours of demoralizing pain they offered to do an epidural again, something I had refused the last 4 times they asked. After 2 natural childbirths I felt like such a failure for caving to an epidural; I was glad I took it, because I don’t think I could have physically taken all the events and intervention that happened after.
There I sat in my Hot Mama Gown holding a baby that I couldn’t take home. I don’t talk about this, or what happened to anyone (not even my Mom or Dad or best friend), and here is only a quarter of the story, but it’s what I am comfortable sharing. There is no need to spread this kind of sadness, and I feel guilty for even sharing this much. My goal is not to sadden or instill fear; frankly I’m not sure what my goal is. I know a lot of people are curious as to what happened, etc, and I understand, it’s only natural. No one except my husband and sister know the whole story and I am eternally sorry they have to share it with me.
I have not mourned; I don’t know how to mourn. I have no idea how to move on, for me, it’s complicated (I’m not a “talk-it-out” type of person and it is SO hard for me to accept ANY type of help from others). I never imagined we’d only have 2 children, never; and also never could I have prepared for an event that was so disgustingly life changing. I have often said and truly believe the Lord does not put something in your heart unless it’s in his plan for you. As I am now, I am blank in the topic of more children; truly and purely blank. I don’t know what it means, I don’t know what I want; I know I don’t want to indure hurt anymore. So, if you’d think of me this month, say a prayer if you pray, send healing; whatever you offer, I will accept. Thank you.
From my 3yo (son) out of the blue one night “Don’t worry Mommy, God will put another baby in your belly; a boy baby”