The Loss

Friday, Heidi was in town, and she, LB and I went to my next ultrasound appointment. As soon as the picture came up on the screen, I knew. My baby was gone. I’d had a feeling for a while - I hadn’t wanted to write in my journal, I hadn’t felt the connection to the baby anymore. I kept telling myself that I was just being overly worried, but I guess I should have trusted my intuition. It looks like a chromosomal abnormality, so nothing I could have done any differently, it just happened.

Dr. M, my usual RE wasn’t there, Dr. H was. And I’m actually glad, Dr. H’s personality suited what I needed then – just matter of fact and calm. I didn’t need soothing, I didn’t want to start crying until I was out of the office. We dropped Heidi off at work, and then LB dropped me off at home, and I went in and collapsed on the pullout couch. I cried some, but mainly I just stared into space and felt numb.

Heidi came home around noon – and while I hate that it was a horrible weekend for her, I’m so glad she was here. She knew just what I needed, without me having to tell her, and sometimes when I didn't even know what it was that I needed myself. We went to the movies with LB on Friday night, and my sister and her infant son came by on Saturday, and we did a little shopping, but otherwise we hung out at home.

I couldn’t believe that just a few weeks ago I was so happy, imagining another life inside me, and now I was walking around with the remains of my dream, dead inside me.

Monday I went to work. It was awful, and I was in a fog all day, but I’m glad I went and got the first day back over with. Tuesday was my D&C.

LB picked me up around 7, and we went to Dr. M’s office for an ultrasound. I think he really wanted to do it so I’d know the baby was really gone, but I knew already. The baby was a little smaller, and there was some bleeding evident, so a natural miscarriage wasn’t far off. But I wanted to the D&C, it’s less painful, and recovery is faster. We walked from his office to the one day surgical unit, where I was checked in. A nurse brought us back and I changed into a gown, had my vitals checked and an IV started. I met with the anesthesiologist and then was wheeled down the hall on the stretcher, to the OR. I started crying when they were pushing me down the hall – I guess the Versed kicked in and I couldn’t control my grief any longer. Which was probably a good thing.

When we got the OR, I was strapped in on the table, and Dr. M was waiting. The anesthesiologist started to give me some Fetanyl, and then said, “Does your arm always look like this?” My IV had infiltrated – which of course he blamed on me being in the healthcare field. He tried to start another in my right hand and failed, and ended up having to put a smaller one in my left hand.

The next thing I remember is waking up, crying again, as they got me settled in recovery. My first nurse was so nice. She talked to me, encouraged me to take pain medication, and brought LB back when I was feeling up to it. My heart rate was up, so I got lots of IV fluids, and then I was considered stable enough to move to the second phase of recovery. I got really nauseated while there, and ended up getting IV Zofran, and then two doses of IV Phenergan before it was under control. I think I ended up staying a little longer than usual because of that, but finally was steady enough to go home. It was such a horrible day, but it was so much better thanks to the good care that I got – the nursing staff in particular was wonderful.

At home, LB pulled out the couch for me, got all my stuff downstairs, and got me settled while she made me some mac and cheese. She had to leave a little after that, so I dozed on the couch, and cried off and on. Lisa came by later in the day, bringing me Aleve and the last of my prescriptions from the pharmacy. She kept me company for a few hours, and then I was on my own. I got lots of calls and texts all day, which made me feel very loved. But so sad.

I feel so empty now. I loved the thought that I wasn’t alone any more. I loved putting my hand over my lower belly and imagining the little baby that was growing inside. I was already imagining what Christmas would be like this year, and imagining my baby in my arms. I know this baby wasn’t meant to be, but I’m grieving the dream of this baby. She’d already taken hold of my heart, and I’ll never be the same now that she’s gone.

I think I always knew this would happen. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. I’m ready to start thinking about trying again in July, but right now I need to let myself be sad and recover from this loss.