Veganinthecountry’s Weblog

It’s over

February 14, 2010 at 9:18 am (Uncategorized)

I’ve already written the condensed version of my story on the loss board but I want to put everything I remember on here for myself. I have no pictures, no footprints so this is it. I do feel a little selfish writing out the blow by blow but I guess it’s ok. No one has to read this. It’s hard to say I’m writing for myself when I know full well than many other will be reading it too. But whatever…

Before the m/c, I was waiting and wishing to be able to say that it was over, the baby had passed and I could move on.  Now (just like I always), I’m wishing I could go back and redo it. Redo a miscarriage, that sounds really sick… but my last connection with another baby inside has been broken.

This is probably going to take a few days to write. Dh is barely allowing me off the couch so I have to sneak it in when he’s asleep.

So, Tuesday, the u/s with no heartbeat. I had a missed m/c years ago so I just assumed that this would take several weeks to pass. Wednesday, I spent the day cleaning, finishing up laundry, scrubbing the bathtub and dusting. A sort of nesting for the upcoming event. I actually felt upbeat. I was looking forward to being done with pregnancy FOREVER, not ever having to go another day worrying over something that I had no control. That night, the bleeding turned period-like and my body emptied itself of everything. It felt very much like my normal early labors and I started to shake and panic. I emailed with a couple of loss mama friends to reassure myself that it would be ok, I would be ok. I was VERY worried over the size the baby would be. I still didn’t want to see a baby, didn’t want to hold another dead baby in my hands.

Moderate cramping overnight. When dh woke up early to get ready for work, I realized that I could very well end up alone at home having the baby. We live out in the country now and 70-90 mins. away from his work, 30 minutes from a rural hospital.  I told him I wasn’t sure if he should go in but after some discussion, I decided to go back to bed and call him if things picked up.  Later that morning, I woke up with heavy cramping and feeling “full”. My water broke as I climbed out of bed and I quickly decided that NO, I would not be flushing this baby down the toilet. I held a washcloth under myself just in case but it was just more water. I remember feeling shocked that I actually had enough water to break but in a strange way, it was also comforting that some of this “labor” felt normal.

Luckily, the kids were all asleep as I went downstairs. Our hot water heater will only fill half a bath so I filled a pot full of water on the stove and called dh at work.  Still waiting for the water to boil so I called the midwives  and asked them if it was ok that I wsa feeling major one-sided pain. She said it wsa fine and warned me that the baby would be big enough to fit in my hand. Oh, I didn’t want to hear that!

Finally, my water was boiling. I hobbled into the bathroom, moaning through the cramps and proceeded to dump the water into the bathtub… into the bathtub that I neglected to close the DRAIN on! I was nearly crying as I watched the water go down the drain. Damn!

Dh made it home in time to keep my bath hot and take care of the kids as they woke up. The cramps eased up so I laid around all day, doing little things around the house and waiting. I had Ziploc bags in each bathroom to catch the baby in. All laundry was clean and I was feeling less anxious about actually seeing the baby.

I got annoyed with dh at one point because he wsa trying to plan his work schedule. With his job, it’s very difficult for him to call in sick. In fact, he never does. So, he asked me a couple times when I thought it was going to happen, if he should call in a replacement for him at work or not. He was not being abrupt or annoyed with me but I felt so hurt that in the back of his mind, he wsa thinking about anything but me and this baby. I said a few quick prayers to have forgiveness and it didn’t end in a fight. I was actually able to verbalize my hurt feelings and frustration and he was able to explain where he was coming from. In the midst of all that, I remember feeling very grateful and almost happy that we weren’t getting into petty arguments and that we were still able to communicate.

Later that evening as we were watching a movie with the kids, the cramps started up again and I felt something moving *down*. I told dh I needed some water boiled and took my book into the bath. I felt strangely calm in there, putting my hair up, getting comfortable in the bath and reading my book. Dh brought me several pots of hot water and continually poked his head in there asking how I was doing. I wasn’t really afraid anymore. It seemed like I should have been really emotional and crying but I wasn’t. It felt like it was happening to someone else. Everything felt muted.

Hours went by in there and finally I felt like there was something *right there*. I checked myself and was stunned to feel tiny little legs and feet. I remember thinking they felt like Barbie feet. I called dh in and asked him if he thought I should push it out or just wait. I tried squatting but just couldn’t push it out so I actually read my book for another 15 minutes until finally, it came gushing out into the water.

There it was floating in the water, still attached to me. Almost transluscent skin, I could see everything was there that should be. Arms and legs just waving in the water. I felt so much relief, physical and emotional. I had done it, the pain was over and I hadn’t cracked after seeing another dead baby. Oh, the relief!

At this point, the bleeding started increasing, baby was still attached to me and the placenta wouldn’t come out. After about an hour of nothing, we called the midwives, who suggested abdominal massage and squatting. We tried this and the bleeding and clotting increased but I could still feel the placenta was attached inside. Dh cut the cord and laid the baby on a washcloth on the toilet. I remember casually inspecting the baby’s arms and legs while squatting and waiting for the darn placenta to come out. With her arms and legs stretched out, she was probably 5 or 6 inches long.

I finally saw something that I thought was probably the placenta so dh cleaned me up and I went to rest on the couch while he cleaned up the mess. I was thinking that when dh cleaned up the bathroom, I would go in and take a couple of pictures, maybe find a way to get a couple of footprints before we buried her the next morning. After eating something, I felt really strong cramps start up and went back to the bathroom for another bath. I figured maybe the rest of the placenta was coming out.

We were in the bathroom maybe for another hour. The bleeding increased, with a few very large clots. The water was so dark with blood. We kept emptying it and refilling it with fresh water. I picked up the clots and tried to figure out if they were placenta or not. I suppose at this point, I should have realized that there was too much blood. But I had had THREE successful homebirths, one unassisted. I just couldn’t believe that my body actually needed help expelling a placenta that small. I mean, how hard could that be?

 I started feeling cold and sweaty. I told dh I felt “weird” and needed to lie down. I tried to get out of the bath and fainted. I could hear dh asking me if I was ok over and over. I mumbled that I was ok but I needed to go to the hospital right away. He leaned over me and asked, “Do you need an ambulance? It will take 30-40 minutes to get to the hospital in the rain. Can you wait that long?”  He rushed in and out of the bathroom, gathering clothes for me and warming his truck up. We were still hoping to get through this m/c without the kids knowing so dh left Christopher in charge of the younger ones, with strict instructions not to go in the bathroom. He told them that Mommy had a really bad flu. So we left with the baby hidden in the bathroom and my mom on her way to take over. My mom also hadn’t known that I was pregnant so dh had to give her the quick story as we left the house.

The drive was so long and I cursed us for having moved that far away from everything.

At the hospital, the nurses were so sympathetic and kept telling me they were “so sorry” for my loss and I had to remind myself what I was doing there… because I didn’t feel sad. The ultrasound showed some retained placenta and the doc advised us to go home and wait for the rest of it. By then, the bleeding had gone down quite a bit so after 12 hours, we went back home.

I felt mortified coming in and facing my mom, knowing that she must have been worried sick. I thought maybe my decision to try to “protect” everyone around me was not the best, for them *or* me.

Later that night,  my mom went back home, dh and the kids were asleep, I snuck downstairs to see the baby where dh had hidden her but unfortunately by then, she was changed. I couldn’t make out the individual toes and fingers like I could before so I quickly wrapped her back up to wait for the backyard burial. I was devastated that night. It was too late for pictures or footprints. The only memories I had were blurry;  touching her tiny parts while squatting in the bloody bathtub.

The next three days were fairly uneventful. I had heavy cramping that came and went but we just assumed that it would be over after a few more placenta pieces came out. On the third night, I felt a big gush between my legs. Once again asked dh to boil some water for a bath. It quickly turned into a repeat of the previous night; heavy bleeding, large clots, dizziness. Dh had no patience for waiting around this time so we left for the hospital.

At the ER, the doc (luckily) didn’t want to give me a D&C  so during a most uncomfortable pelvic, he suctioned the blood and removed several (totally TMI but these were like the size of large pieces of meat) placenta pieces and blood clots. I cried and cried during this; because it hurt and because the equipment he was using was what I assumed would be used for an abortion.  I looked over at dh during this and he looked terrified and panicked. I was thinking, “Great! Now you’ll NEVER agree to have another baby”.

After this, the blood test came up at half the normal number and the doc told me I would need blood transfusions. I was so emotional about it that I think he thought I was Jehovah’s Witness because he said, “Well, if you have a religious objection…” I didn’t know what a blood transfusion entailed so I was surprised and relieved to see that it would just be hung up in place of my fluids and go into the IV I already had set up. Something about the way it was packaged looked like they had bought it half price at Winco. I gagged every time I looked at it.

I was wheeled from the ER to the maternity wing after the transfusion started. That smell of new babies hit me when the birth center door was opened. It smelled like Matthew! After I was situated in my new bed, the sweet nurse had to ask me for my information.

“Had I ever had a baby at this hospital before?”          

“Yes, just my baby that had… ” sob sob

“Have I ever had surgery?”

“Just my cesarean”  Oh my God, this was real, I was really here. I had a baby that died and I was here because another baby died.

“And here’s your call button. You can call me if you need anything.”

The call button really set me off. All of a sudden, I could smell Matthew, see him, feel his 4.5 lb weight in my arms. I used that button to ask the nurses to bring him from the morgue, to take him back to the morgue. I just couldn’t believe I was here again! What if I pressed the call button and asked for my baby back? What if I went crazy?

Well, I didn’t go crazy. I made it through the hospital stay and returned home again. Not sure the kids believe I’m still recovering the flu.

The ob said it will take 2-3 months to recover from the blood loss. I wish dh hadn’t been in the room when she said that because he is seriously watching every move I make. He accuses me of having “labored breathing” and insists I lie on the couch most of the day. He will suddenly turn to me and say, “You scared the HELL out of me! Don’t ever do that to me again.” He watched me breathe at night the first few days and stuck the flashlight between my legs while I slept to make sure I was’t hemorrhaging. I’ve never seen him so worried or so caretaking. I don’t blame him for being this way. I’m just concerned that he will never get these images out of his head and refuse to try again.

So, there it is. I don’t have to be afraid that I will forget everything that happened anymore now that I’ve written it down.