Goodnight My Angel

November  17, 2013

I had so many dreams in regard to being a mom and being pregnant.  One thing I couldn't wait for was feeling those "flutters."  Jude had been kicking up a storm.

Oddly enough, I have daydreamed often about being in the delivery room, Darren by my side coaching me, and pushing out our future.  Honestly movies, tv shows, and facebook pictures of pregnant women in the hospital room create a wave of anxiety for me because I automatically think "what if that will never be me."

Last night that was me, but it was all wrong.  Yes, I was getting strong regular contractions.  Yes, Darren was by my bed, in the delivery room holding my hand and coaching me through deep breaths.  But it was wrong.  Not supposed to be here.  We have been ttc for over 1200 days. We needed 21 more days for Jude to have  39% chance.  21 cursed days.  My body had other plans.

The other bitterend was the kicks that I had grown to love, over the last 2 days have brought me deep grief.  I detested Jude's so-longed-for kicks because they would remind me his is alive! He is healthy!  He is perfectly perfect playing in his sack having no clue that his heartbeat was about to stop.  It made me sick to stomach.

Although they couldn't pin point the infection yet, my body wanted something out.  After trying to stop the contractions with pain meds, at 11:00 I couldn't take it.  They gave me an epidural.  With one look at the cerclage the doctor pulled it out and felt inside. 

Our saving grace would be that Brinly's placenta was the infection and that my body would just pass that.  But with a click glance in the doctor looked at me and said "all I can feel is his bag of water, this has to come out first."  Silence fills the room.  She then says "do I have permission to break his water."  Images of Jude stretching so happily in the fluid my body rush through my brain.  That lack of water that killed Brinly and that I so wished I could provide.  His perfect water sack. "Is there any other way, can the placenta shift and deliver first?" I ask.  She sadly shakes her head.  And tells me she is sure I have an infection and doesn't want me more at risk "Just do it then I guess."  Before I know it I hear the sound of a gush and feel warm water on my legs.  My sweet baby Jude. "Oh God" I whisper in a half prayer, half question as to if He is still near?

The epidural kept the pain away and when it came time to deliver, the dr. had agreed to allow me to go to the OR and get sedated followed by a d &C to make sure everything is cleaned out.

They rolled me back and I touched my stomach one last time "see you on the other side" I whisper to my angel.  When I woke up, it was over but as they were wheeling me back to the room, Darren told me that he had held Jude.  I was so anti-seeing Brinly because I knew she wouldn't look like a baby at 18 weeks.  He looked normal Darren said.  Suddenly my fear left and the mom that I am (although the world will never know it) wanted to hold him.  And I did.  He was perfect as ever.  He was beautiful.  Everything formed, gorgeous face with a nose that looks like mine.  I held his hand.  I kissed his head.  I whispered "I love you." This just isn't fair.

I am very afraid of the grief and sorrow to follow.  I'm afraid that I will burn with memories when I see a pregnant mom.  I'm afraid the wrong turn down a Target aisle can lead me to unconsable tears.  I'm scared of how long this will hurt and the days and the months to follow.  What if I change?  What if I'm harder?  My daughter died just 3 weeks ago and my son?  This morning.

A few people have asked again"how are you doing?" and I almost snicker.  The typical American answer is  "ok" "alright" "hanging in there" "surviving"

You want to know how we are really doing?

Imagine the strongest physical pain you have experienced, mix it up with what you dread the most coming true, then throw in a death, and then another death, and then throw in the sound of your family weeping, and a young mom who just had 2 hearts ripped out of her as she literally holds her dream in arms that is truly beautiful yet hopelessly dead,  mix in seeing your strong father sob and your confident husband stare at you with eyes like you've never seen before-eyes of pain as you yourself cry out "I cant take this any longer" and all he can do is helplessly watch her suffer as she loses his baby and then add the taste of bitterness and antibiotics lingering in your mouth with doctors poking and proding and breaking water=that is how I am.