mamabug
05-13-2005, 12:20 PM
This is my story, I copied this from my other hang-out, hope its okay, I am too tired to put everything I am feeling into words again. Thank you for your support mamas...
I saw the doctor on Friday, and he told me that I was going to miscarry at any time. He said my placenta was dying already. He scheduled me a d/c for Monday. I still was not bleeding and began to think 'what if?' 'What if the baby was okay; what if they were wrong?' But, realistically, I knew in my heart and in my body that this was not the case this time. On Saturday, we went to church and I had all the elderly ladies coming up to me and patting my tummy and asking how things were going. I felt apart from myself as I answered that 'that the baby was no more.' I barely made it home, where I collapsed into my bed, exhausted as if having to have raced through fire. That night as I got ready for the night, I asked God to please let it happen soon if it was His will. The next morning, I could not wake up. I lazily tossed and turned, and finally at nine o' seven, I looked outside, and saw that a beautiful drizzle was falling. My mom once told me that when it rained lightly on a special day, that meant that it was a blessed day. When I went to my bathroom, I knew that God had answered my prayer. I had begun to bleed lightly. I missed Monday's D/C, and was rescheduled for Tuesday evening. Ironically, I was taken to the Labor/Delivery ward, past the nursery, and into the early evaluation/recover unit. So, there I lay, in a kind of surreal stupor. Was I really here? I began crying, and my mother who had accompanied me, rocked me in her arms, as I cried 'why did they bring me here...I don't want to be here." She held me this way until my nurses came and began tending to me. She held me yet again, when I got massive shakes from having been given cold fluids in my I.V. I began having a panic attack, and begged God to somehow please let them put me under now! I didn't want to hurt like this. I wanted to go home. I was so afraid. I began smiling and wanting to laugh like an idiot through my panic. I tend to laugh whenever I am nervous. And seeing as how this was NOT a happy occasion for me, I can only imagine that this was my body's reaction to dealing with a horrible situation. I remember as they administered my medication, and them asking me to please move onto the surgical bed. I remember shaking terribly, and them asking me to please calm down, and somebody holding me down. Then I saw a beautiful purple watercolored fog, and all went dark. I awoke to my nurse asking me to wake up. I slowly tried to open my eyes, and my whole body ached. I touched my tongue to my lips only to find that one side of my lip was busted. I am still unsure as to how that happened. I was allowed to recover, and was taken outside by the nurse who had been so kind and compassionate to me. She wrapped me in one of the warmed blankets, and wheeled me to the car. She hugged me tightly and whispered that she hoped to see me soon, perhaps in a year. I managed to get in the car, and remember stopping at a drive-in, trying to chew through jaws that hurt, and then coming home. I walked past my family and my children straight to our bedroom, where the comfort of a bed lay. I slept without dreams, and when I did awake it was to hear my son crying as his Grandmother tried to soothe him. I found my way to him, and found him hot with fever. I had him brought to me only to find him unwilling to be with me. In the morning, he came to me. Wanting what we all did at that time...to be reminded that we are loved and that life continues. I gave him this reassurance, and am praying now that God gives me mine. Today, I grieved for my baby; the one that never felt my earthly arms or was able to nurse from my breasts. I lay on the floor heaving in pain and hurting like I had never hurt before. I cried tears that I did not wipe away. My heart was breaking and healing all at once. Life continues, and I go on waiting for the moment when I will see my child and hold my baby finally and the ache will be no more.
I saw the doctor on Friday, and he told me that I was going to miscarry at any time. He said my placenta was dying already. He scheduled me a d/c for Monday. I still was not bleeding and began to think 'what if?' 'What if the baby was okay; what if they were wrong?' But, realistically, I knew in my heart and in my body that this was not the case this time. On Saturday, we went to church and I had all the elderly ladies coming up to me and patting my tummy and asking how things were going. I felt apart from myself as I answered that 'that the baby was no more.' I barely made it home, where I collapsed into my bed, exhausted as if having to have raced through fire. That night as I got ready for the night, I asked God to please let it happen soon if it was His will. The next morning, I could not wake up. I lazily tossed and turned, and finally at nine o' seven, I looked outside, and saw that a beautiful drizzle was falling. My mom once told me that when it rained lightly on a special day, that meant that it was a blessed day. When I went to my bathroom, I knew that God had answered my prayer. I had begun to bleed lightly. I missed Monday's D/C, and was rescheduled for Tuesday evening. Ironically, I was taken to the Labor/Delivery ward, past the nursery, and into the early evaluation/recover unit. So, there I lay, in a kind of surreal stupor. Was I really here? I began crying, and my mother who had accompanied me, rocked me in her arms, as I cried 'why did they bring me here...I don't want to be here." She held me this way until my nurses came and began tending to me. She held me yet again, when I got massive shakes from having been given cold fluids in my I.V. I began having a panic attack, and begged God to somehow please let them put me under now! I didn't want to hurt like this. I wanted to go home. I was so afraid. I began smiling and wanting to laugh like an idiot through my panic. I tend to laugh whenever I am nervous. And seeing as how this was NOT a happy occasion for me, I can only imagine that this was my body's reaction to dealing with a horrible situation. I remember as they administered my medication, and them asking me to please move onto the surgical bed. I remember shaking terribly, and them asking me to please calm down, and somebody holding me down. Then I saw a beautiful purple watercolored fog, and all went dark. I awoke to my nurse asking me to wake up. I slowly tried to open my eyes, and my whole body ached. I touched my tongue to my lips only to find that one side of my lip was busted. I am still unsure as to how that happened. I was allowed to recover, and was taken outside by the nurse who had been so kind and compassionate to me. She wrapped me in one of the warmed blankets, and wheeled me to the car. She hugged me tightly and whispered that she hoped to see me soon, perhaps in a year. I managed to get in the car, and remember stopping at a drive-in, trying to chew through jaws that hurt, and then coming home. I walked past my family and my children straight to our bedroom, where the comfort of a bed lay. I slept without dreams, and when I did awake it was to hear my son crying as his Grandmother tried to soothe him. I found my way to him, and found him hot with fever. I had him brought to me only to find him unwilling to be with me. In the morning, he came to me. Wanting what we all did at that time...to be reminded that we are loved and that life continues. I gave him this reassurance, and am praying now that God gives me mine. Today, I grieved for my baby; the one that never felt my earthly arms or was able to nurse from my breasts. I lay on the floor heaving in pain and hurting like I had never hurt before. I cried tears that I did not wipe away. My heart was breaking and healing all at once. Life continues, and I go on waiting for the moment when I will see my child and hold my baby finally and the ache will be no more.