Tomorrow...

4.28.14

I have good days.  And I have bad days.  Some days, I feel like going on.  Other days, I don’t want to go anywhere at all. Some days, I feel like I need help coping.  Other days, I feel like, “I got this.”

It is hard.  I think people underestimate the grief felt when a woman loses her child.  They understand the grief when the child is born, lives, and then perishes, but they fail to understand the grief that is felt when a mother loses her child in utero, and has that child either ripped from her during a medical procedure, or has that child forcibly removed from her body, by her body.  Either way, it is a traumatic experience.

I would be lying to you if I said that a part of me has serious doubts.  There is a part of me that wonders…did I make a mistake?  What if, a miracle did occur, and after I left the doctor’s office on the 16^th, just a tiny bit of growth took place?

Yes, I know that is not logical, but when is grief ever logical?  I mean, if my body expelled on its own, then I feel I would not have these feelings, but to have to have surgery, I keep wondering on some small level, if my body was holding on for a reason, and I terminated too soon.

My mind knows this is not the case, but my heart keeps trying to poison my mind. I literally have a war raging inside of me right now: my heart against my mind. 

I still have yet to schedule my post op appointment, and it has been almost a week since the procedure was done.

 

I wish they would have scheduled it for me, and then just called me with a date and time.  It’s hard to think about going back right now. I don’t want to see them right now.  I don’t want to talk to them right now.  I don’t want to walk in to that building, get in to that elevator, walk in to that office. But…if they would have GIVEN me a date and time, I would be there.  It’s just, picking up the phone to make that call…is difficult. 

There’s a part of me that can pretend that we will get pregnant again soon…all is well, and I think a part of me is afraid that to go in to the doctor, she is going to drop that other proverbial shoe, right on my head.

I told you…I have my good days, when I’m flying high, and I have my bad days…and this, is a bad day.  

But if it helps someone to see that we all go through them while trying to heal, then I will continue to allow you in my head, in my world.

And I do know deep down, that things will get better when I am in my funk.  Tomorrow will be better, I know that.  However, I have to get through this storm right now, and make it to tomorrow. And that, family, can sometimes be the problem—making it through today.  

Where Do Broken Hearts Go? From 4.22.14

After lots of soul searching (that's where I have been these past couple of weeks), I am back.  The below post is from April 22nd.

4.22.2014

Today is my first day back to work.  I don’t want to be here.  I want to be home.  I want to be hidden.  I want to be invisible.

I wanted more than anything to stay home for this entire week…but what good would that do? It won’t undo what has happened.  It won’t make life stop, pause, or make the world stand still until I am ready to deal with it.

I didn’t think it would be this hard. I never understood women who miscarried and fell to pieces. I never understood that…until now.  People argue when does life begin…from conception, or when the heart begins to beat…I feel qualified to answer that question now…it begins from the moment you find out you are pregnant.

I feel like a ball of knots…tangled in every which way you can imagine.  I do not want to be here.  However, if not now, then when?  I have to press forward, I have to move on.  I cannot become mired down in grief.

I cried this morning…but it was in the pantry, away from my son…away from the world.  The other times I cry? In the shower, where the tears will wash away down the drain, and I can emerge and blame my red face, my red eyes, on the intense heat of the shower.

I am beginning to understand why people don’t tell they are pregnant until a certain point in time—it reduces the amount of explaining and sympathy you experience after the other shoe drops.  However, it never occurred to me to not tell the world. I mean, this was a miracle! I was told for YEARS…NO! And yet, here I was…or there I was…pregnant.  Why wouldn’t I want to testify of the goodness of the Lord?

So far, here at school, I am doing well.  Yes, I am getting the “I’m so sorry for you!” looks, but no one has SAID anything to me about it—thanks to my guidance counselor who sent out an email alerting the staff that I would like to grieve in private...and I am ok with that.  I have sent my heart in to “hiding” in order for me to be able to pick up and move forward.  My mind is in total control right now.  However, if I SPEAK about it…then my heart hears the words, and takes its cue to come out of “hiding,” and that…is when the dams are removed, and the river is allowed to overflow its banks…

Whitney Houston once asked, “where do broken hearts go?”  And I really wish I could answer that question.  If I could answer that, then maybe I would know where to send mine so it can heal completely.  

They say time heals all wounds…we will see.  However, for now, I am doing the best I can to move on.  The best I can to try to not be a burden.  The best I can to be an awesome parent to the child I have been blessed with…

But I am struggling here.  I will not lie to you about that.  And I will not stop blogging about my progress…or lack thereof, as if I can show one person…just one person out there, that they are NOT alone, then my suffering will be eased…because at times, I feel like I am…

Speak to My Heart...

4.18.2014

I am now home, but I must tell you, that same nurse, she was also there when I woke up in recovery.  She had stayed with me in the OR until they began, and then she had gone back to work.  But she was there when I woke up in recovery.

I don’t know how I can ever repay her kindness!  She did not have to do any of what she did! 

But I digress. I am home, and now the hard part begins…the emotional healing.  We are watching Elmo in Grouchland, and Frozen…two movies to help me laugh.

I find that I do not want to watch anything serious…nor do I want to read anything serious…I have not even watched the season finale of Scandal at this point…I’m not ready to return to the grown up world yet.  I just want to be surrounded by silliness.  Gaudy, over-the-top, silliness.

I can’t help but think that this is the week of Easter…a time of renewal, and here I am, mourning a loss. And I wonder if this is how Mary felt—losing her child—only she had him from birth until adulthood, so she had a stronger bond with him, but I feel like the loss of a child, is the loss of a child.

I have decided to not forget her.  Yes, her.  I don’t know, but I have this feeling, the baby was a girl.  And for me to move on, I feel I need to establish a connection so I don’t feel like I am mourning a void, a nothing.

So I have named her Hannah.  Why Hannah?  Because you must remember, I was told that I would never, ever get pregnant, but I did.  So for that reason, I call her Hannah, because in Hebrew, Hannah means, “grace,” or “favor,” and I believe that God used her to show me both in that I can indeed get pregnant. 

Does this make things easier?  In a way. Does it take away the pain? Nope.  Not at all.  Not in the slightest.  I also purchased a birthstone for the month of November, to go in my locket that I wear. In this locket, is Matthew’s birthstone—which we share for March—and now Hannah’s. Both of my children, in my heart locket, close to my heart forever…Speak to my heart, Holy Spirit. Message of love, give me the words, that will bring new life…

The Greatest Test...

4.17.14

Today is the day.  I am ready.  I have cried my last cry. I have packed my bag for the hospital complete with magazines and snacks to keep my husband busy and occupied.  

This will be my 4th D&C in my lifetime, so I know what to expect.  I have placed all needed items right by my bedside—crackers, ginger soda, the remote, my nightgown, my favorite fuzzy slippers and socks.  The DVD player has been loaded with my favorite movie to make me laugh—Major Payne, and my laptop and iPad are within reaching distance. 

 I am as ready as I can be.

I have dressed in sweats—and the weather outside is cooperating in making sweats a feasible option as it is freezing out there. The cold however, is oddly refreshing for me, and oddly matches my numbness at this moment.

We parked in the parking lot, and Tommy and I walked in to the hospital.  I was trying to be upbeat, almost silly in my behavior.

When I arrived at the hospital, and arrived at the check in desk, I was appalled when I saw my check in paperwork.  They had listed for my visit: Missed Abortion.

I was livid!!!!  I began to cry—I didn’t mean to, it just happened.  Huge tear drops rolling down my face as I asked the woman with a quavering voice how could they code it in that fashion?  To say a Missed Abortion, says I am here willingly. Says I am electing to have this surgery.  Says I gave up.  That is opposite of the truth: I FOUGHT THIS!  I got a second opinion!  I did not give up until I saw…with my own eyes, the tears of all involved!  I did not give up, until I saw with my own eyes, that there had been no growth!

A missed abortion put such a nasty taste in my mouth…made me feel as if I would choke on my own vomit…choke on my own bile…

She assured me that this was not indicative of my journey, but that it was the universal coding for the medical industry for what was happening to me. I do not agree with this wording.  I know it is only words, but words are powerful.  Words can move people to love…to riot…to hate…words are powerful, and to have those words on my admittance papers…in my darkest hour…moved me to anger.  

Moving past that, and getting in the bed and having everyone help me to prepare, I realized why my continuing to blog is so important as I go through this storm…I am not alone.  I FELT alone….I FELT like I am the only one going through this, but I am not.

I mean, I read the statistics…I know that more than 20% of all known pregnancies end up in miscarriage during the first trimester, but I have never had faces to put with that number.

In my room, I learned I was not alone.  There was an hour time frame between when I was taken back to prep for surgery, and when Tommy could come back and be with me, and my nurse told me that she had 4 children—but had miscarried 4 times.  She looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes, and she told me, “I love all four of my children, but the 4 I lost…I will never forget…and you will never forget this one, either.”  

Then, the nurse who did my IV—she also told me her story—she had miscarried twice in her journey to have 3 beautiful children.  

Their stories inspired me to continue to write.  The elder of the group with 4 grown children now, told me she too, felt alone when going through—despite what the statistics say; because no one speaks about it.  Women push it to the backs of their minds, and they never address it again. They suffer in silence because they know that society expects them to move on. To not whine about it, but just get up, and keep going as if nothing happened. She told me she wished she knew then—that she was not alone—what she knows now…

So, I will continue to write, continue to talk about my experiences.  I once saw a quote on Facebook that said, "One of your greatest tests is when you are able to bless someone else while you are going through your own storm."  And so, that is what I will do, try to be a blessing to others.

I was wonderfully taken care of, by an excellent staff.  I was even visited by a good friend of mine I have not seen in ages—she is an OR nurse there at the hospital.  I asked if she was working today, and they found her for me.  It was awesome to see her again…but not under these circumstances…

We caught up briefly, and then she had to leave—she was at work—and I understood that.  I was just so grateful to see her again.   I saw her again right before they came to roll me away…she volunteered to go over my charts and vitals one last time prior to going in to the OR.  She introduced me to the CRNA (Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetists), and told me he was awesome.  And then, she was gone.  

As Tommy walked back out to the waiting room, I said a silent prayer for a successful surgery.  

The gentleman clicked the bed, and we began to roll. We turned a corner, and I saw the sign for the OR.  All of a sudden, something fell off the shelf inside me, and broke…I think it was my heart as I began to cry deeply.  

The gentleman stopped, and he placed his hand on my back and assured me it was ok, and it was going to be ok.  I—like I always do—apologized for my tears, and urged him to move forward.

We entered the OR, and my cheeks were covered with fresh tears again. The nurse who was there, heaped warm blankets on me, and wiped my tears away.

The surgical tech was there, too, and he told me, “It’s ok.  God does not make mistakes.  You will be ok. I promise. I’ve done this for many years, and we’re going to take care of you.”

He and the others helped me to scoot on to the operating table, and then had me lay back.

Once down, who did I see smiling above me?  The nurse who I have known for a long time I mentioned earlier!  She came back! And she held my hand, and assured me again it would be ok.  She wiped away my tears, and she talked to me, and held my hand, until I fell asleep…….

Take Me To The King...

4.16.14 8:26 am

I said I was ready, but I'm not. I'm headed to my second ultrasound, and I'm n tears. I'm so afraid.  So much for acceptance of whatever? No. I disagree. My mind has made peace. It's my heart that is closed minded. It is my heart that only wants to hear good news today come hell or high water. 

My mind is prepared. My mind is logical---you do not want this on your terms, but on god's.  My heart wants no part of that statement. My mind agrees that based on today's visit though, a second opinion may be warranted. My heart is in agreement on that, but still holds out that today will be the day we see another miracle, another blessing. 

My mind is racing...trying to rationalize with my heart. Telling my heart: can we truly afford this?  We didn't know we could get pregnant, so we never took out short term disability. What if we're put on bed rest? But all of this is to say that it is to no avail. My heart wants what it wants, and right now, it wants more than anything, to think that in 9 months, there will be a tiny human being emerging.  

My heart does not want to be rational. It does not want to think that we can try again. It does not want to let go now. 

I was so hungry upon leaving the house a while ago.  I told myself I would go and get breakfast as a treat...i have not eaten a bite. My appetite appears to have flown out the window when I rolled it down to place my order at the speaker. 

I'm here now.  Sitting in the parking lot. Looking at the building. Trying to muster the courage to go in. Trying to see if we can have the test done with me still in the car. 

Of course I know better. But I cannot help it. Before going in, however. What I will do, what I can do, is pray.....

Dear God, just because I don't understand your plan, does not mean I don't trust it...

4.16.14 10:00 AM

It is over. There is no growth. There is no need for a second opinion. No growth is pretty clear--no growth. 

My heart is torn to pieces. My mind is numb. It feels nothing. It has allowed my heart to take over: allowed my heart to begin to go through its grieving process. 

For me, this is much more than just a miscarriage. This is a why? Meaning, I was told never....but God said yes, but then he said no? 

This was my miracle, and now it's gone? Just like that? 

The doctor I saw today was so nice. So genuine. The ultrasound tech hugged me. The LPN hugged me. The doctor hugged me. 

So I had three options: 1. Continue and see if my body realizes what is happening and lets go on its own. 2. Take pills that would MAKE my body wake up and let go. Or 3. Have a D&E where I go to sleep, and wake up and everything is done. 

She explained that the pregnancy had progressed to 8 weeks, and then just stopped. No additional growth at all.  

I asked her why did my body not "abort" on its own. And she said sometimes the body does not want to let go, either. That made me cry again. 

I asked her for her opinion on what option I should choose. And she was frank with me: a D&E. She explained that she tried for a year or so to get pregnant, and she has twin two year olds, and could not imagine suffering a miscarriage while chasing them. 

She said with a D&E, I'll go to sleep, she would be the one taking care of me, and she would make sure I'm ok. 

I agreed to the D&E knowing my kid, his energy levels, and knowing what I have heard from others who have lived through miscarriages---I wanted this to be quick and easy without ripping out my heart, without dragging everyone else down my road of misery.

The D&E has been scheduled for tomorrow, April 17, at 2PM. "Take me to the King, I don't have much to bring. My heart is torn in pieces, it's my offering. Lay me at the throne...leave me there alone...."

The Potter's House

Sunday, 4.13.14

I have let to go…I am numb, but I have to let go. I just can’t continue to think about it…dream about it…obsess about it.  So I have to let go.  I prayed about it, and I have left it in God’s hands.

If this is meant to be, it will happen on its own, with God’s help. I do not want this if it is not ordained by God himself.

My attitude…was this easy to come by? No. It is NOT easy…WAS not easy to come by…when is it EVER easy when it comes to this? How could coming to a conclusion such as this ever be done lightly, or easily? What parent does NOT fight against, rally against, pray against the worst possible odds for their child? Even when logically, they know them to be true?

 But if it is not His will, then it will not be. And if not this one, then I know the next one.  

I don’t really want to go to church today.  I don’t really want to face the people there.  No.  It’s not because they are not nice…it’s because they are.  Does that make sense? Sometimes, you just can’t handle the niceness, and the goodness of people when you are preparing for your personal storm.

Right now, everyone coming up to me with well wishes and congratulations.  I don’t know if I can handle that right now.  How will I keep from crying when the well-intentioned people come up to wish me well, and I don’t even know if things are going well?  

I am trying to remember that life and death lie in the power of one’s tongue. But at the same time, I am also conflicted with knowing that whatever God’s will is, is what will transpire.

So I am stuck…should I continue to speak life, until God says otherwise?  Is that how this works?  I speak life, and then what?  Because I have to be honest with you…to speak life, and then it happens to not be God’s will…I think I will be crushed again.

That is where some of my confusion lies. I understand that the Bible says the power of life and death lie in the tongue…but how do you speak life, if God says no?  Then, am I not just bugging the bejesus, out of God?

And so it was decided—I was not going to go to church today.  But I had a dream last night…it was not a defined dream…per se…you know? It wasn’t like a dream where I could see people…it was a song from my childhood that kept playing over and over in mind during the night.  It was a song I woke up signing, and I do understand what it means.

I may get in to a lot of trouble for doing this due to copyright laws, but I pray that if this is ever seen, the responsible party will understand how much solace I found in these lyrics:  

In case you have fallen by the wayside of life; 
dreams and visions shattered, you’re all broken inside. 
You don't have to stay in the shape that you're in; 
the potter wants to put you back together again, 
oh, the potter wants to put you back together again. 

In case your situation has turned upside down, 
and all that you've accomplished, is now on the ground. 
You don't have to stay in the shape that you're in; 
the potter wants to put you back together again, 
Chorus: 
You who are broken, stop by the potter's house. 
You who need mending, stop by the potter's house; 
give Him the fragments of your broken life, 
my friend, the potter wants to put you back together again, 
oh, the potter wants to put you back together again 

There is healing in the potter's house. 

You'll find everything you need in the potter's house. 

And so with that song in my dreams, that song on my lips, that song in my heart, I got up this morning, I prepared my child and myself for church, and we went (This was Tommy’s weekend to work at the hospital).  

Once there, I immediately sought out my pastor—who is everything you could ever ask for, including accessible.  He immediately took me in to his office, and he prayed with me, and he prayed for me.  

Rain or shine…win or lose, I am better.  And even though my mind is still logical, and prepared for anything…my heart and my soul, are bracing for the realities, and the harshness of life.  “…give Him the fragments of your broken life…Because the Potter wants to put you back together again…”

Tantalus and Sisyphus…

4.10.2014

This morning, my thoughts are all over the place. 

On the one hand, I am still numb…I feel like Tantalus, with my greatest desire hanging just beyond my reach. Every time I reach for it, the wind blows it just out of my grasps once again….but mine is worse…I actually GOT my desire…and now they are trying to take it away.

After speaking with a teacher here at my school that is also pregnant—she made some really good points that have me honestly very confused. 

She said that she could not understand why I was not classified as high risk considering they never thought I would get pregnant, my age, and my hard to control blood pressure.  She was also shocked that the first thing they didn’t do, was check my blood for hCG levels when they took my blood work at the confirmation appointment.  She said considering my irregular cycles, my history with dysfunctional uterine bleeding, they would have wanted the blood work up front to see what they were working with.

She also advised that depending on what the doctor said at my next ultrasound, I needed to seek a second opinion. That is, if the new ultrasound next week, shows no growth in the yolk or gestational sacs. 

I think I agree.  Why did she not do the blood work for hCG levels up front?  Why all of that blood work, not to test for that while you’re draining my veins?

Also, why a pap smear?  It’s not like mine was out of date.  I had one the previous year, and according to my primary, they are only needed every 3 years now…so why now that I am pregnant?  I mean, in all honesty, I did not start spotting until after that pap.  Seriously.  I was more than fine up until that point.  Why a pap on a high risk person? 

I have all of these questions.  I am now wondering did they ever seriously think I would carry at all.  I am now thinking I need a second opinion.  The teacher I work with said with all of her babies, heartbeats have not been heard until 10-12 weeks, and the fetal pole was not visible until then either for her.  Why is my doctor so quick to terminate?

I have asked my co-worker for her doctor’s information. I am going to try and schedule an appointment for next week.  If I don’t like what the 2^nd ultrasound says, I’ll go for a second opinion prior to making a final decision.  If I go back, and this new ultrasound shows more promise, I can always cancel.

I only know that I am not ready to give up without a fight.  I have waited for this so long…and to get this far to feel like the medical team I am working with, has already thrown up their hands on me and my child, makes me feel like Sisyphus: continuously rolling a boulder up a hill, only to have to roll it back down the hill, and start over again the next day—futile.

I feel like the line from the song by Marvin Sapp, He Has His Hands on You, “Sometimes you feel so alone, like a child lost with no home. They keep telling you to be strong, but you say when will it end? When will I win…”

When WILL I win?