Our loss...

I have spent the last few hours trying to decide if I would write about this on my blog. Anyone who knows me, knows I am a tough cookie and I don't "talk" about things that are bothering me or upset me. Everyone has their way of dealing with things, some people talk, I do not. I tend to hold things in (whether it be anger or sadness) until I deal with them on my own or I blow up or break-down. It's my way, I am not going to change. So anyway, I wasn't sure about sharing this on my blog because I am aware of the fact that some people who read my blog do it out of pure nosiness, not out of care or concern. Then, I made the decision that I have never lived my life or made decisions based on what other people think or say... so why start now. This is my way of "talking" and answering questions without actually having to talk about it. I know that this will be therapeutic for me and will be one of the ways that I embrace the life that was lost.

On December 26, 2010 after months of trying for a baby, Ryan and I discovered that we were pregnant. Of course we were overjoyed and excited to tell everyone. I wanted to wait til we were at least 12 weeks along, so we just told our families. Long story short, I had multiple doctor appointments, and at one of them I had an ultrasound to see the baby. The tiny little peanut barely resembled a baby, but you could clearly see it's tiny little heart beating on the screen. Everything was normal, except the baby was smaller than it was supposed to be at that time. I wasn't concerned, because Addison had always measured smaller, so I figured I would just have another little baby. Almost four weeks passed and we were within days of reaching the 12 week mark, so we told our friends.

As it turns out, Monday evening (Feb. 7th) I noticed a tiny bit of blood in my urine. I of course panicked, but did some research and convinced myself that it was probably just a bladder infection and would call the doctor in the morning. Around 3 a.m. it became obvious to me that this wasn't a bladder infection. I will spare you all the details, but I knew that our baby was gone... I could I just feel it. Ryan took me to the doctor first thing that morning. They couldn't find a heartbeat, but the doctor gave me a few explanations as to what could be going on and sent me to ultrasound. I sat in that waiting room for what seemed like forever. All the while I knew in my heart what had happened, but I was just praying that I was wrong. It didn't take long for the ultrasound tech to confirm what I already knew. Our baby had only shown about one weeks growth in the past month, and there was no heartbeat. She told me that when a miscarriage happens at this point in the pregnancy there is something chromosomal wrong with the baby. It was nothing that I did wrong, the baby just wasn't able to form properly and my body recognized it and terminated the pregnancy. She tried to make me see how in the long run this is the best thing, because the baby would never have made it to full term.

Now in my mind, I completely understand this, I do. I recognize that these things happen, and they are for the best. However, these things always happen to other people, not me. Mentally accepting it and emotionally accepting it are two very different things. The doctors talked to me about what my "options" were... to be honest I didn't like either of my options, but I chose the D&C because I just wanted to the get the baby out as quickly as possible. My surgery was scheduled for the next day at 11:30. I went home to wait and my mom came to stay with us.

Around 3 a.m. I woke up in excruciating pain, unable to find any comfort and unable to take any medication because I wasn't supposed to drink/eat anything after midnight (because of my surgery). I decided a hot bath might help ease some of the discomfort. Now, I will spare you the horrific details of what happened next. Long story short, I ended up delivering the tiny little baby on my own in a bathtub, just hours before my surgery. Then hours of contractions and cramps followed before it was done. I was able to get pain killers for the last hour or two, but the Vicodin can't erase an image. I had to see our dead baby. I had to see it's tiny little eyes and it's tiny little fingers. I think I was okay, until I saw those little fingers. I was sad and I was angry that I went through this in the worst possible way. My doctor didn't warn me that it could happen that way, I wasn't prepared for this.

The next day I went it to the doctor to get checked out and to make sure everything had made its way out of my uterus. My doctor was very apologetic that I was without pain medication, and assured me that she had never had anyone miscarry that soon or should would have warned me. Then she had the nerve to ask me in the end if I was "glad that I ended up doing it naturally rather that having surgery". I remember looking at her like she was the stupidest person on the planet. Mind you, I had just told her about the horrific event I had been through and then she asked me a question like that. Now, I have friends and family members who have had miscarriages and had to endure the agony of a D&C, so I don't want to take anything away from that terrible experience. How in the world could she ask me if I was glad to go through all of that rather than be unconscious and have it done surgically. I think it goes without saying that in the future, I will be looking for a new obgyn. While my doctor has the most impressive credentials in all of Austin, her bedside manner at that very moment was appauling to me.

So, now it's done, and I am recovering physically and we are both recovering emotionally. I know we will be fine and one day we will have more children. I know that we are blessed in so many ways and we have a perfectly beautiful and healthy daughter that is more than we could ever ask for. I know that we will be sad for a while and we will always wonder about the baby that we lost. Through all of this I know there will be a lesson learned and we will grow as a family. I have already discovered many friends that have shared their own stories of their miscarriages with Ryan and I. It's something that no one wants to talk about after they have experienced it because it is painful. It's not that I want to ignore the fact that it happened, I acknowledge the loss, but the looks of pity and saddness I can do without. I realize that it's human nature, and that people want to say something or do something to help, but their really isn't anything to do.

I don't tell you all of this because I want sympathy or pity, I just want people to understand what we have been through this week. I want to answer everyone's questions without having to actually answer the questions, and I want everyone to know that we are going to be okay.