Here is her blog link: Just An Ordinary Girl ~ Life Unabridged
And here is her story:
Today I am sharing the story of my first miscarriage which happened in the fall of 2002, between the birth of my son and my daughter. I was pregnant with her almost immediately after the miscarriage; I think they figured about one and a half to two weeks later. I spent a considerable part of the pregnancy not sure if she was one of a twin because she measured so very small. So to have felt that terrible loss and then worry for two months you lost not a baby but one of a twin…I cannot describe how horrifying that feels. Not only was the loss so painful, it came with a major life change for me; an almost instant growth and maturing moment.
I was going every few days to have blood drawn, to make sure that my hormone levels were dropping. It ripped my heart out every time, as if the universe were rubbing it in. How could they casually drag me across hot coals and remind me constantly my angel was gone before I even saw her face? I know now they do it for a reason but I didn’t care then. They had scheduled me for a DNC the next week because everything was looking ‘good’, Lord knows I wanted to punch her for saying that. Lucky I was upset enough that I never went for the procedure.
The dream of her was so fleeting and faint. Before I even grieved her another life was forming and I almost resented the intrusion. I was forcibly dragged from my mourning by the ‘hope’ of another….one that could be taken from me just as easily. I spent my whole pregnancy terrified I would lose her as well. It was difficult to hope, carefree as we do when we carry life within us, after the loss. I was scared to hope and lose another baby, so I didn’t get attached. I kept her at a distance.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The smells permeate her nose, sharp and distasteful. The hustle surrounds her as she finishes the rounds on her hall, fighting the sharp pain in her side. She stops finally in the bathroom and prays the certainty growing in her mind is wrong. There it is, the telltale spot, and as her heart stops beating in her chest, she curls her fingers reflexively around her stomach; my baby.
She pulls the cloak of calm around her like a barrier and makes a beeline for the phone. One desperate call to the doctor later, she sits with clammy hands and a racing pulse waiting for the return call. When she gets the calm impersonal voice back on the phone, it says they want to see her for an appointment immediately. Once again her heart stutters to a halt. She mechanically goes through her chain of command and once free she heads for the door on auto pilot. She imagines she must have driven there because she is behind the wheel as the car glides to a stop in the parking space, though she cannot for the life of her remember the road.
Two days she had defied him, two days she risked his wrath to try to prevent this very thing.
She climbed numbly into her aunt’s van. She stared out the window unseeing and started violently when the woman beside her spoke.
“Do you know what today is?”
She stared at the woman for a moment as her brain chugged sluggishly into gear.
The woman chortled softly and prodded “Yeah, but Friday the what?”
The connection was made and resentment sprung to life as she glared contemptuously at her but when the woman turned to look at her all expression was smoothed from her face.
She half smiled and said “That figures”.
Her aunt laughed and said “Friday the thirteenth isn’t a terribly good day for this.”
“No sh!t Sherlock,” she muttered softly to herself. All her nerves were on fire both physically and mentally and her aunt was only making it worse.
“Why in heavens name would anyone with half a heart or brain even mention something like that? As if the dread in her heart wasn’t enough, let’s toss in the random dire portent. Yeah I’ve read this plot line” she thought bitterly.
The next thing that roused her from her benumbed state was lying in the dark, in a gown worn soft by all the washings. The ultrasound machine hummed to life and the cool air brushed across her cheeks making her shiver. The tech beside her did not utter a word as she pour on the warmed jelly and ran the wand across her belly that had barely begun to curve. She could see the amniotic fluid as a dark blotch on the screen, but the ominous silence hung dreadfully in her ears.
Without a word to either her, or the woman that sat next to her, strung tightly wound but blessedly silent, the tech left after instructing her to return to the room she was in before. Then her companion began to utter all the charming endearments we find spill heedless from the mouths of those outside the sucking black. She felt drunk on dread, empty and scared.
She knew he was at home, uncaring except for the burden of watching their small son. There was no comfort for her there, or here. She was in the brightly lit, cheerless room; more fit for a holding cell than for soothing the scared or grieving. The bustle of the emergency room continued heedless of the way she drew taunt in expectation any time footsteps sounded outside her curtain. Finally, in strode the dark small man. He could barely bother to look at her as he scanned her chart then uttered the pronouncement.
“It is confirmed, you are losing your baby”.
The lance of pain was white hot and sharp as her heart shattered with what must have been an audible sound and she thought she died in that moment. Thru the haze of pain and despair she heard her aunt gasp, then watched the doctor’s head jerk up. His eyes were wide and horrified.
“Oh my god, I thought the tech told you something” he stuttered.
He began to apologize profusely, though she scarcely heard it over the deep wracking sobs she heard coming from far away. Only barely did she realize it was her own voice that made them. The shell that remained of her, sat still as stone, tears running down her already pale cheeks, made ghostly in this moment. They continued to murmur in the corner as she lay down and curled into a ball, hands over her stomach in disbelief. The woman dressed her as she might have dressed a child and let her back into the cold night.
The trip home was a blur. First to the store for the prescriptions and then stop for a pack of smokes at her dull command. It was all surreal like she watched herself at the movies. When they arrived, she stood uncertainly outside the van and spoke over her shoulder without looking.
“Wait for me, till I see what will happen”.
Her aunt made a noise of agreement, neither voicing what they knew to be the truth. It would not be pretty. For a long, dark, soul searching moment, she stared at the house. Shadows twined themselves around corners of the yard, clinging to the trees; crouching as if waiting to consume her. Every light was off making the porch yawn forebodingly, like a mouth ready to swallow her whole. The door glared back at her, daring her to turn around without a word and leave. She felt the things that lurked in the darkness. She knew what he would say, how he would react. The desperate corners of her soul begged for even a glimpse of light she knew in her heart would be denied her once more.
She entered slowly and quietly feeling the hostility wrap its hand around her throat and when she paused in the doorway she heard his voice bite out of the darkness.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
She felt the lash bite in and leave another welt upon her soul, but she was beyond the pain of that now. She was one of the walking dead.
“I was at the hospital. I’m losing our baby”. Her voice was soft and pleading as she stared at the immobile back before her.
“You mean you aren’t done yet?”
She had thought herself immune but the words cut her deeply and swiftly, in that moment slicing the thread that had been the love left for him. It vanished in the blink of an eye and she wondered for a second where it had fled so fast.
“I need you. Say something, anything and I will stay. I need you dammit”.
She heard his snort of disgust and could see in her mind’s eye the sardonic smirk that curved his mouth though she could only hear it this time.
“Being a bitch isn’t the way to get anything from me”.
She stared wordlessly for one last, long moment at his immobile form, still facing away from her, then grabbed her bag and walked out. She returned to the van without an explanation, the woman did not need one. When they arrived at her aunt’s home, she stumbled out of the vehicle and collapsed on the front porch.
“Please I need to call my mother.”
When she sat gripping the phone in her hand she lit a cigarette and dialed the number. She sat praying silently and was grateful to hear her mother answer.
Please God, let her be understanding, I couldn’t stand another rejection right now.……
”I’m losing the baby mom”.
She heard her mother weeping on the line. “I wish I was there for you sweetie.”
She cried in sheer joy, her mother had never seemed to understand, to connect with her when she needed the softer side, instead always harsh and blunt. She grieved with her mother and the pain subsided a bit. They talked for a while until her stomach began to hurt in earnest.
“I have to go mom, I love you”.
She sat looking at the stars smoking and grieving and wondering why for what seemed like forever until she could deny the pain no longer.
When the moment finally came for her angel to go to heaven she could not face it. She could feel it, but she couldn’t even look; instead, crying hysterically she called out for her aunt who rushed to her side. She heard the sound of rushing water come from behind her, washing away the evidence but not the stain upon her heart. Her soul broke as she knew it was time to say goodbye. She was already a mother and the thought of her angel leaving before she even drew breath was excruciating. She should be hearing the heartbeat and looking forward to the little fluttering as life stirred, not sending her to the arms of Jesus. She felt the motherly arms of her aunt around her, leading her to the dark room and guiding her down onto the bed. She curled in upon herself as she thought and grieved. A hand smoothed her brow as a mother does a child, though she was grown and a mother herself, and she floated slowly into the blessed relief of sleep.
She lost their child that night, alone in the darkness. The agony in her soul was sharp. She grieved the loss of her child, she grieved the loss of him undeserving of it as he may be, she grieved the loss of the dream she had of family and happily ever after. After all, maybe he was right. Maybe it was all her fault.
My daughter is what you would call a “rainbow baby”.
A "rainbow baby" is a baby that is born following a loss. A rainbow, the beauty that comes after a storm and a symbol of hope, is a description women lovingly use for their babies that are born after a miscarriage, still birth, or infant loss. For women who have experienced a loss, conceiving a “rainbow baby” doesn’t make them forget the loss, take it away or diminish it, but it does give them hope for a new chance at motherhood. In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison. The storm has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm-clouds might still be overhead as the family continue to cope with the loss, but something colorful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.
It was definitely one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. I have gone through two others in the last 3 years. I would have given them the world, but instead they were given heaven; a hard gift for me to accept - for them, for all of us.
It’s hard to talk about and to find people who are comfortable talking about something like this, let alone who understand it. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent so much time alone and scared if I had known where to go. If I had had someone tell their story and offer their hand. Please know you are not alone. Just because your child has gone to heaven does not mean you aren’t still a parent. That loss hurts too. It is okay to think about them and to talk about them. Please feel free to contact me at: Just An Ordinary Girl or 1st Time Mama or find a group called Miscarriage Matters on Facebook. Click their name and follow the link. You are never alone.Until we meet again my friends, stay safe, be blessed and know you are loved.
So there ya have it......An awesome post from an awesome friend.
Remember that you are not alone, ever. We are here for whatever support you may want/need.