They finally called our names. EEK! We got back to the ultrasound room and anxiously readied ourselves for our sonogram. We were about to find out who this little nugget was! She started the scan and there that sweet little baby was...then she just stopped what she was doing and said she'd be right back. She wasn't right back. That wait was agonizing. Bryan's optimism in those moments kept me from completely falling apart or expecting much worse. He always expects the best, never the worst. I tend to lean toward the other end of that equation, especially when it comes to pregnancy.
So many thoughts started running through my mind while our tech left the room. My symptoms had tapered a bit, but I WAS in my second trimester. They usually tapered, right? I mean, this was my 4th pregnancy, why couldn't I remember that? I hadn't felt the baby move a ton, but I was just 15 weeks. Was it supposed to be moving a ton already? Seriously...I can't remember anything. Meanwhile Bryan is scoping out all of the ultrasound pictures on the wall and talking to me about dreams of this little baby in my belly. I hold in all of my fears because I didn't want to bring him down with me, and it was silly to even think that way, right? I had JUST had an ultrasound a few weeks ago and the baby was fine. Everything was fine. And then the door opened.
Our tech looked super serious. She started wiping off my belly and explained that she saw something concerning on the scan and she wanted us to go straight to our OBs office. She said that our doctor was in surgery all day, but that the nurse practitioner was there and was ready for us. That sinking feeling, that pit that I felt just two years ago when we lost our second baby came rushing back. I think deep down I knew then and there that we lost the baby, I just didn't want to believe it. I immediately told my friends to start praying. I needed optimism. I needed hope.
Bryan and I got to my OBs office and sat in the waiting room for what seemed like an eternity, only to be moved to the exam room for what seemed like a whole other eternity. Then our NP came in. She was getting ready to do my exam when our doctor called her. She was pushing back a surgery and was on her way back to the office. That's when I knew it was bad. Doctors don't just push back surgeries for other patients to check on basic abnormalities. Dr. Wang got to the exam room, hugged my neck, asked what was wrong and then just said, Ok. Let's check on this baby. She looked at that baby for what seemed like a whole other eternity. This day was moving at a snails pace. When she looked back at me and her eyes were tearing up, everything sank. I squeezed Bryan's hand as hard as I could while I listened to her tell us there was no more heartbeat. Just weeks before, there was only a 5% chance that we would lose the baby based on measurement and heart rate and all of the other things they check and yet, here we were in the 5% instead of the 95%. Without a baby. Without this sweet little life that we were anticipating. How did we go from sheer excitement of getting to find out what the gender of our baby was to finding out instead that our baby wasn't going to make it?
My first miscarriage, two years ago, was abrupt. It was painful. I could tell it was happening. It all ended quickly and without a ton of intervention. I guess I didn't realize that a pregnancy could end so quietly. How did I not know that the sweet little baby inside of me had been gone for almost two weeks? My doctor wanted to schedule my D&C right away. Saturday morning. I politely declined that because we were supposed to be celebrating Owen that day. Celebrating his little life. I didn't want to miss that. We scheduled for Monday instead. It's strange, you know? Walking around pregnant, but not pregnant? I felt odd all weekend, but I had chosen this. Our sweet friends added our two kids to their already full brood of four kiddos on Sunday night since my procedure was scheduled for 5:45am the next morning.
We got to the surgery center Monday morning defeated and so sad. The paperwork they have you sign and fill out put a pit in my stomach. Abortion. That's what my procedure was. My baby was already gone. This wasn't something I was choosing to do. Why would they call it an abortion? An abortion felt like I was choosing this and it is absolutely the last thing I would ever choose. This baby was SO wanted. Our nurse, Dana, was a fantastic distraction. She was also a Reno. We had never met another Reno other than our immediate family, so it was fun to talk to her about where they were from, etc. The staff was all so great. Everything went smoothly (as smoothly as it could, I suppose) and we were released soon after I woke up. Bryan took me out for pancakes after. He's a good man, that one. I slept most of Monday. Partly because of the meds and partly because if I was asleep, then I didn't have to think about what just happened.
It's been a few weeks now. More of my days are feeling like life is in them and less like everything is falling apart. Announcing our pregnancy and talking about losing this baby has been better for my soul than I could have ever imagined. Just to hear how many people love that baby, not just me and Bryan, and how many people have just shown up and done and been there even when they had no idea what to do or say (who really does?) has been such a tangible outpouring of God's love for us.
So, I guess what I can say is this. When your friends are going through hard times, don't ask them what you can do. Just do something. Get them a gift card for a meal, bring them a home cooked meal if you're so inclined. Bring your kids over for a play date or take their kids to the park so that they can just be. Check on them. Tell them you love them. You don't have to say anything else. Just tell them you love them and it sucks and you're always there. Love big. That's all I can say, that and thank you to our friends and family that showed up and have gone/are going through this with us. Y'all are so special.
No comments:
Post a Comment