“for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul” Leviticus 17:11
I could feel it in my gut… the ultrasound wasn’t going to go well. I kept a smile on my face in the waiting room as a woman 3 weeks from her due date compared notes on what it was like to spend the summer in your third trimester (Arabella was born 7/21/14) I didn’t want to bring down the mood in a room full of joy. Inside I was petrified. When the ultrasound tech called me back I went into the tiny room and let her know that things hadn’t been going well. She said that she read the previous notes and she was aware… she then asked if I wanted her to tell me straight what she was seeing… I said of course. As I watched the screen I saw her measure my uterus, the gestational sac and that is when the fetus came into view. It looked almost identical to the ultrasound 10 days prior… the only thing missing was the flicker of a heartbeat. She didn’t need to say the words, I already knew the truth, our baby had died. I started to have a panic attack and rushed to get dressed. When the doctor came in I was crying uncontrollably and dry heaving while sitting on the floor of the examination room. I couldn’t control my emotions. Even as they escorted me to the surgery scheduling area and I passed by the young woman with whom I had been chatting just 30 minutes before… she smiled at me and I could not help my response… I just kept crying. The doctor said the baby was going to start to pass soon and so she wanted to do a D&C the following morning. I vaguely remember signing the papers and being handed a stack of pamphlets. I called Rich from the parking lot and he immediately left work so he could meet me at the house. The drive I made from the doctor’s office to my home is a complete blur… I know there was an intense rainstorm and it made focusing on the road that much more difficult. I felt destroyed by the news. I felt like ripping my skin off. I felt like a failure as a woman and as a mother. Somehow I made it home safely but I didn’t sleep much that night.
The next day the procedure was fine. It was quick and relatively painless. The next two days of physical recovery were pretty easy so I was dealing mostly with my emotions. Then while sitting at my computer I felt a warm sensation in my abdomen and the feeling that something was falling out of my body. I ran into the bathroom and passed a blood clot that was just about the size of a plum… and unfortunately this was not a one time incident. Since my procedure on the 7th I have had 3 weeks of bleeding, clotting, tests, pain and general frustration. This time around the physical pain has been overwhelming. With my loss last fall it was mainly emotional pain but the physical side is really coming into play now. It might sound strange but the fact that I cannot get past the physical symptoms is making it nearly impossible to face this depression. People don’t really talk about the things that happen to your body when you lose a child but they are truly traumatic. When I was in the 10 day waiting period in-between ultrasounds I remember fearing the site of blood every time I entered a bathroom…. now with my baby gone the blood is all that is left. Every single time I pass a clot it is as if the baby is dying all over again. No doctor can seem to tell me how long I will experience this constant reminder that my body failed to protect my baby…but I would give anything to have the bleeding stop.
The bleeding is something that no one else sees… but they do see my tears. I have been an emotional wreck over the loss of my baby. I have cried at work, the grocery store, in the car… with friends, with Rich and especially alone at night, when I think about it the most. Hell I am even crying right now while I sit in the dark typing this out. The crying isnt always for the same reason. Sometimes it is sadness, thinking about the fact that my daughter isn’t going to be a big sister… thinking that I am never going to hold an infant to my breast cherishing a life created with the man I love. Other times it is out of shame. Something about admitting aloud that once again I failed my child, that just 9 months . after the death of our 2nd child my body proved incapable of caring for our 3rd. Then there are the times that I cry out of anger. I get this feeling of rage because I just want to understand why it keeps happening. When you lose a child everyone wants to tell you how common it is. Well I am sorry, but that does not comfort me one bit. It floods my body with a combination of anger and sadness that is indescribable. These are the moments that I start to wish I had some type of deity to blame it all one. Some higher power who could take credit for the entire ordeal so that I could move forward… no need to cry… i’d be able to feel confident that there was a purpose to it all and that I was blessed to have God looking over me. Unfortunately my brain is not capable of accepting nonsensical bullshit so I will have to work it out on my own and damn-it there may never be a reason. That is the worst part for me, the not knowing. My doctor took tissue samples to check for chromosome abnormality and has also ordered a slew of tests to look for genetic disorders that may be causing my losses. I know though that all the tests in the world may never tell me why my baby is gone.
I have had several people “remind” me that I did have 1 successful pregnancy and that I should be thankful that I have my daughter. If you ever think of saying this to a mother that has just suffered the loss of a baby, please stop yourself. Not only does it imply that the mother doesn’t appreciate her living child but it also implies that the grief the mother is feeling is not justified. I won’t try to speak for any other grieving mothers but in my case the love I feel for my daughter has never been in question. Arabella means everything to me… she is a reason to wake up every morning, to go to work and to push through even when it hurts just to move. That being said, the love I feel for Lily and Riley (baby 2 and baby 3 respectively ) is also real and my grief is valid. The love I feel for one doesn’t take away from the other and if anything losing these two babies has made me appreciate Arabella even more.
Rich and I have decided that we can not risk this happening again. We will be taking action to make sure that I do not get pregnant again. It isnt that I don’t want another baby but that I cannot handle another loss. The first one broke my heart and the second broke my spirit. In order to be the best mother I can be I need to focus all of my energy on raising Arabella. I feel fortunate that she is young enough that she didn’t even know I was pregnant let alone that the babies died. Of course one day I will tell her. I remember knowing from a young age that my own mother lost two babies and actually that knowledge was helpful during this difficult time. I was able to go to my mother for help in dealing with my feelings, because I knew she’s been there too. At one point I said ” I know it has been a few weeks but I can’t stop thinking about it” to which she replied “Allison, I am 62 years old and I still think about the babies I lost, it’s okay to be sad.” . Those words meant more than anything my mother has ever said to me, I will hold them in my heart always.
So now I am left to deal with all of these emotions…. still mourning the loss of Lily last fall and now trying to accept that Riley is gone as well. I am thankful for all of the people in my life that have offered love and support. Unfortunately I know that it is something that is going to take a long time to heal… I just hope I can make it through…God knows I am trying my best.