Friday, February 27, 2009

Out Came the Sun...

A few days ago, I stood in front of the bathroom sink, preparing to leave the house. Gianna came marching in, carrying her stuffed rabbit. She plunked the rabbit onto the Baby Bjorn Little Potty, and commanded, "Sit. SIT! Stayyyy... stayyyy... Good. Cookie." (She then held her hand under the rabbit's face for a second). Suddenly she grabbed the bunny and whirled it around and crammed its face into the potty, yelling, "EAT! EAT!" and laughed uproariously at herself.

My sunshine girl. Right now is not easy at all, but she makes it far better.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

I Feel Numb

...Don't grab
Don't clutch
Don't hope for too much
Don't breathe
Don't achieve
Or grieve without leave...

A quick warning: Do not read if you are squeamish. There aren't necessarily graphic details, but it's a bit on the honest side.

After about a week or more of various signs and symptoms, and the exhilarating high of hearing the midwife announce that she did hear heart tones, reality shot me out of the sky this morning with the definite announcement of "No heartbeat." The very brisk and efficient ultrasound technician was clearly a member of the old "Impale them with all of your might" methodology. Note to ultrasound technicians everywhere- "Has previously given birth" does not equal "Capacity of 'Debbie Does Dallas.'"

Her spic-n'-span blunt ways were the complete opposite of the squishy-gooey love-fest the doctor was doling out. I mentally resigned myself to the upcoming platitudes as soon as I saw his gigantic button that declared: "Listen to Women." Sigh. I should have known that before I left that room, he would envelope me in a giant hug.

Long story short- the baby's life ended (or really, became eternal) about two weeks ago. I am not positive what heart tones the midwife heard days ago, but it might have actually been our combined hope of hearing a heartbeat that manifested itself. At any rate, it is over. I am not quite sure what I will be doing in August, but I will not be holding my newborn.

I had originally planned on describing the idiocy that captures people when they are near pregnant women for my next blog entry, and I will probably do that at some point. Today, however, I will list actual statements that were told to me today that should never be said to a mother whose body is slowly, but surely (and painfully) losing her baby at that precise moment:

- "Well, don't you have a living child? How old? 18 months?!? Well, okay then- you've got a baby at home..."

As though a subsequent baby would be a replacement, perhaps? Or I was creating one as a spare? I don't know what to do with that comment.

- "This was planned? Hmm..."

Again, no idea what that is supposed to imply. I think the nurse's filter was broken today, too.

- "Good thing this happened now, and you're not finding out about something being wrong at 6 months, and having to make a bad decision then..."

Yes, it's a GOOD thing. I'm going right out and celebrating when I leave here.

- "Now, you should wait until this baby and everything has completely left before trying to have another baby."

Because God knows, the first thing that someone who is contracting and bleeding wants to do is hop into the sack. Yeah baby.

Sigh. A few things that I did hear today that was helpful:

- "Drink some wine, eat some chocolate, do some yoga- whatever you want. Just do whatever you want for a while."

Got it!

And the most touching, from an online forum friend who has experienced loss:

- "...
This child will never know the pain and heartache of a sin filled world. This child was born directly into the arms of Jesus..."

That is the image that will have to keep me from becoming unglued, especially this summer when I realize one day that it is August 22, and I am not preparing for a little warm, wrinkly, sleepy baby.