No Longer Under My Heart, But Forever In It

I really wasn't planning on posting this bit of information about myself just yet, but Bainwen set me to thinking about it and I don't think I'll be able to produce a worthy post until I get this off my chest. The following is only a portion of my saga. Part One if you will. It has to be told this way because it's the way I view it - in three different stages. Plus it will get unbelievable long and put everyone to sleep otherwise. Writing it down assuredly gaurantees me a bad day, but here goes:

LOSING OWEN

It was mine and my husbands first pregnancy together. We had wanted for years to start a family and were finally blessed with the wonderful news. The pregnancy was progressing as it should when shortly after the half-way mark, I started feeling less and less movement. We were on vacation in PA when I really started thinking there might be something wrong.

At the ob's office the next day, the doctor was not able to find a heartbeat and sent me to the hospital for an ultrasound. I went home and got my husband and we set out for the hospital. Of course, the waiting room took forever and I was on pins and needles the entire time.

Finally, after twisting and turning down many antiseptic-smelling hallways, I was wriggling my round body up onto an exam table. The technician readied her machine and placed the wand on my expanding belly and the image of our baby instantly appeared on the screen. It was a perfect profile shot with hands and all. Then she started methodically taking measurements of the placenta.

"I'll just take these back to the radiologist and he'll be back out to talk to you."

"Wait," I said, "Did you see a heartbeat?"

In the dimly lit ultrasound room, I saw a lone tear fall down her cheek and she shook her head sadly, "No".

My heart started racing and I began to sob. I literally didn't know what to do. Where do I go, what happens now, maybe you're wrong. Please, be wrong!

My doctor came in then and started explaining what would follow. He spoke of loss support and even when we could try to have another baby. No, no, no! I don't want another baby....I want this baby.

Then he told me that the baby had most likely been gone for a couple weeks and we needed to get him out as soon as possible or my life could be at risk because of possible infection. I went home first to....to....I don't know to what, I just didn't want to be at the hospital yet.

Eventually, my husband coaxed me into getting back in the car and driving to the hospital. I remember as I was walking through the door, that I thought, "the next time I come through this door, I won't be pregnant anymore."

At the hospital once again, there was an aura of confusion. I obviously looked pregnant, but not ready to deliver. The nursed didn't know what to do for me, until a nice woman came and took me by the arm leading me protectively to a birthing room. After a million questions and a lot of sympathetic pats, I was administered the labor inducing medicine.

It started working almost immediately but hours into it, my contractions stopped. Almost as if my body knew it was too early and was trying to right the wrong.

Another dose of medicine and contractions started up again - full force! I kept begging for an epidural ~ actually, I asked to be knocked out ~ but they kept telling me that I wasn't ready. I got up to go to the bathroom and I felt the baby coming.

We delivered his lifeless body by ourselves in the bathroom. For unkown reasons, there was a full length mirror in the bathroom and I remember looking at myself in it and seeing our broken dreams before us ~ a brief glimpse of our family and what could have been and then, a flurry of doctors and nurses. I was led back to bed while the baby was examined.

It was clear that his cord was twisted, cutting off his precious life supply. They handed his 3.5 lb, perfect body to me and it was undoubtedly, the hardest thing my heart ever had to accept. We were able to spend four hours with him ~ four hours meant to replace a lifetime.

When it was time to leave, I didn't want to go. I wanted to be as far away from that place as possible, but I didn't want to leave my baby there. The hospital gave me a special bouquet of flowers with a cherub placed snuggly inside. It was positioned as such, that you had to cradle it just like you would a baby. It's intent was to give the mom something to hold as she was wheeled from the hospital. I hated people's sympathetic stares.

Grieving through the funeral and after proved to be much harder than the actual birthing experience and that is explained further in installment 2. To be continued......