The Baby Died.

At around 16 weeks I started to feel pretty good. Then I got the flu and a cold and felt awful again for a week and then I miraculously felt great. This was a bad sign. But I was 17 weeks. I convinced myself that it was time to start feeling better and that this was just normal. I had been down, really down with the morning sickness for so long that it felt so good to be up and taking care of my family again. I could run up and down the court. I even did a double header with lots of energy.
There were times when I had my phone all ready to call the doctor and get seen again and I couldn't do it. I couldn't bear the bad news. And, selfishly, I wanted to finish the basketball season. I had worked really hard and I had won an award. My name was getting out. People were watching me and talking about me. I knew that if the baby had died, I would have to deliver and then I would most likely be done for the season. I still don't know how I will ref in the coming months when fans are so mean. It won't look great for an official to break down in tears because someone doesn't like my calls.
So, I put it off. But I thought about it every second. There wasn't a time that I was sure the baby was still there. My husband is an optimist. He didn't love it when I asked him multiple times a day, do you think the baby is still alive? He never saw this coming. We had names picked out for the baby. Taggert Whyte if it was a boy. Whyte is for my husband's grandpa. Greta Claire if it was a girl. Greta after my great friend who basically saved my life by serving me when we lived in Oregon. And Claire after my grandmother whom I never met but who I felt very strongly helping me through the last miscarriage when I had to have a blood transfusion. She had lost babies too.
I would lay in my bed with my hands on my stomach pleading with the baby to move so I could feel it and be sure. But, obviously that never happened. But I have never felt my babies move early. I am quite large and I hoped it was because had space. I talked to the baby and told it that we loved it and wanted it so badly. I would beg my Heavenly Father to allow this baby to come. That we would love it and take such good care of it.
So we went about our regular business. I started grocery shopping. I started organizing my closets and getting ready for our home inspection for our foster care license. I even started cooking again. I had a regular appointment scheduled and I waited.
My appointment happened to be on Presidents Day. Trav had the day of so he could come. That made me so happy because I knew I would have a hard time being alone with bad news. It gave me strength to have him by my side. So we went to our appointment at 10. We had to wait 20 minutes because the doctor had deliveries. Trav saw an old co worker and they talked. Trav told him this was our 5th. So proud. So not ready. I couldn't help the feelings of dread. But in this pregnancy I was nervous so much and it was fine so I tried to be hopeful.
I told the nurse that I was nervous. I told the doctor. He said I know about your history and its fine. Everything is fine. But he couldn't find the heartbeat with the doppler. I knew it was a bad sign because always they find the baby's heartbeat first. Then with the handheld ultrasound he said he couldn't see anything. I think he lied to me. Because then he started to try to distract me. He asked where I was from. He's from Oregon too. He started chatting about this guy we both knew from there. But I just wanted to know for sure. Even when they took us to the room to do the big ultrasound, Trav says he still wasn't worried. He was playing on his phone and carefree. When the baby came on the screen, it was so obvious that it was dead. I waited about 5 seconds and then asked, No heartbeat, right? He said no in a really soft voice. He was very sympathetic. But I can't stand sympathy. That's no what I wanted. I wanted to run away. To bawl my face off where no one could see. But he had to find out when it died. How big it was. Then we had to chat about when I wanted to deliver it. I wanted to do it at home but the risk of bleeding goes up by like 40%. That's what he said anyway. Given my past history we couldn't risk it. We had to do it at the hospital.
We never had enough money. I can't remember the last time that Trav's regular paycheck paid our bills. I have to ref to buy groceries or we wait for a bonus check or a tax return. Well, this year, Trav is finally earning enough money that we don't qualify for alot the tax credits so our tax return is very small. We usually live off of it for the year. Use it to make up the difference. Well, this year it won't happen. I was willing to sacrifice even more for our baby. But I sure didn't want to have to make my family sacrifice for a dead baby. But now we have a hospital bill to pay for and no baby. Talk about insult to injury. I guess I came through it healthy and feeling physically fine but it seems like alot. We had already had to pay hundreds for the extra first trimester monitoring. I am getting lost in the finances. Transference, right? Talking about things that don't matter to distract from the things that do....
I had to call my mother-in-law and ask if she could take the kids. I didn't want to do this because she is already attached to our little babies and wants them as bad as we do. I can still hear her crying in my mind when I told her and I feel so bad. I willingly got pregnant again know that this was the likely outcome. I feel very mean for causing grief to others. My husband mostly. We came home and told the boys and they seemed fine. When I asked my almost 5 year what he thought. He said I'm hungry. I worried about him because his mantra was I'm so excited for the baby. He was so protective of my tummy and took such good care of me. My 8 year old who is actually pretty sensitive was pretty bratty because he couldn't play with his friend. I think this was an outlet for him because he wasn't quite sure how to express what he was feeling. And my 11 year was stoic. That's what he does. Trav was devastated. He is so big and strong. He takes things in stride and to see him like this was really hard. I just didn't have it in me to try to console him when I felt like I had caused the whole thing.
So we dropped the boys off. My 14 year old daughter was working so we couldn't tell her in person which was probably fine because I knew she would take it really hard. She really wanted a sister. We were both really convinced it was a girl. The morning sickness I thought had to be because it was a girl but instead it was a symptom of chromosome problems in the baby. Who knew? The doctors and nurses always smiled and said nausea is a good sign in pregnancy.
Then we checked into the hospital to wait. They acted as if I was having a real baby. An IV, a monitor. For what? I asked. We don't have to worry. For the first time, I could use drugs if I wanted. We don't need to worry about the baby. It's already dead. The nurse was sort of taken aback when I said that. But both of my nurses where very kind. They were great to both of us. Trav never left my side the whole time. I think it was because he knew I needed him and because he was worried if he left and missed anything I would hold it against him forever.
We got to the hospital at noon. They got the medication started at 1:30. I expected to be home by afternoon. The last time I had used this medication I had passed everything in 3 hours. I was expecting this same result. I guess since I was further along they can't use the same amount of medication because it can blow out the side of the uterus instead of dilating the cervix. It can result in a hysterectomy. That sounded fine to me. Then we would finally have an answer. The doctor didn't like this. He really wanted me to know that I had a great possibility of having a healthy baby. I laughed at him. He backed this up with a stat 1 in 120 pregnancies has chromosome problems at our age. I laughed again. I am always in the small percentage. That's big odds for us. It's something like less than 1% of women that have recurrent miscarriages. 50% of those can never find a cause. Well, we found one this time. I was like so I'm having a dead baby because I'm old so when I'm older I'll have a better chance. I don't think so. The doctor really was kind and great. He felt so bad for us. He was on the verge of tears more than once. Which didn't help me because I don't like to cry in front of anyone. I held it together pretty well. I had a breakdown at around 8:30. I had another dose of medicine but still nothing was happening. I told Trav, I guess my body doesn't want to lose the baby either.
Trav's old boss and friend texted him to say how sorry he was and to take all the time he needed. I just couldn't stand any more sympathy and it threw me over the edge. I had to tell Travis how sorry I was for killing this baby and all the other ones. I was selfish to keep reffing, maybe that killed it. Maybe it was the milk duds that I ate. All that corn syrup killed the baby from mercury poisoning. Maybe it was all the gluten that I ate, I ate lots of bagels and sandwiches, they didn't hurt my stomach. I told him that he should find a young girl that could give him babies. I just cried and cried and cried. I wanted the baby so bad. It was MINE. I was just so mad that this baby got taken from me too. I was a brat I said. Why do I have to charge ahead in everything? Why do I always have to have my own way? Why can't I be meek and gentle? Trav actually laughed because that's so not me. I told him that I killed it because I was so negative but I really did want it. Maybe Heavenly Father took the baby because I was mad that I was so sick. Did I say it wasn't worth it? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He held me and let me vent and cry and be mad and sad. He didn't try to get me to stop. But after like 20 minutes, which is a doozy for me, I heard this voice plainly in my head say, Pull it together. Who it was, I can't say. Maybe my grandmother Claire? I don't know. But I listened. I stopped. Told Trav not to look at me and went to the bathroom to throw up and then clean up. I didn't want to like I had a breakdown when the nurse came back in to check on me.
I didn't want to get back in the stupid bed so I sat on the couch and watched TV with Trav waiting for something to happen.
Earlier the hospital social worker had come to see me. He remembered me from my last miscarriage. He gave my kids these build a bears called Forever Bear. An eagle scout had donated them to the hospital for siblings of dead babies. He was so nice. He felt so bad that he made me cry and I don't like him anymore. But my kids have loved the bears. They have been so nice for them to love on. What a kind boy and what a great eagle project. Thor may do the very same one.
Around 1 I went to go potty and felt some pressure so I had the nurse check. The contractions at this point were there but I still didn't even need to breathe through them. I hate medication because I have been dizzy too much in this life and I avoid medication that could possibly make me dizzy. I will take horrible pain all day over dizziness. I told the nurse and doctor that emphatically so they never offered it again. The nurse checked and called the doctor. He got all up in my business and had me push a little before he gave me another dose of medicine and went wherever he goes. So the contractions so stronger but still no biggie for maybe 15 minutes and then my water broke. I thought I was having the baby with no one in the room so I freaked Trav out. I didn't want to see the baby. I didn't want to be the one to have to hold it. The nurse came and it was just water. That's the first time my water broke on its own. The contractions stopped. The doctor came right in and delivered the baby. It took maybe 5 little pushes. It didn't look like a baby. The nurse handed it to me. I asked is this what a normal baby looks like and the doctor said no. You could see that the babys neck was what the doctor called "webbed". I didn't like that he used that word because it reminded me of a duck, a farm animal. I was sort of offended that used that word to describe my baby. Because even though it wasn't perfect, I had loved it and wanted it so bad. The nurse put it in a washcloth to let me hold it. We thought it was a girl. The doctor didn't look closely. He was worried about delivering the placenta because that is what makes the bleeding happen is if the placenta doesn't all come out. So he worked down in the nether regions for a while to make sure that my cervix didn't close before it all came out. And they gave me a shot in the thigh. The whole while I was laying in the bed holding my dead deformed little baby. She didn't form well but her little hands and feet were perfect. She had short arms and legs and a big tummy. Her face didn't look great. It was a relief to see this little body because we both knew that there was no way it could have made it. We finally had an answer to why this baby died. So that was nice in a way. When I got to hold the body it was warm. Trav held her. I just didn't want to let her go. We decided to let the hospital dispose of the body. It was tough for me but Trav reminded me that its just a body. I want to be cremated when I die. He reminded me of that. It's just a body. The spirit is already gone. I wish I could have known that spirit. That I could have sensed her somehow so that I can recognize her later.
After an hour I finally let the body go. The body was cold. They had moved her to a little blanket and wrap someone had handmade. The body was sticking to the washcloth.
I wanted to go home. I was done. I knew I couldn't grieve in the hospital. So, I got the all clear and got dressed. They had called this lady named Rachel and she came in the middle of the night to do hand and feet molds. They are the size of my fingernails. She also did hand and footprints and gave me the little blankets that they wrapped the baby in. She put them in a little box. She wanted to show them to me but I couldn't do it. I thanked her and stuffed the box in my bag. She also said the baby was a girl, for sure. I had thought it was a girl so I was glad. I thought the reason I didn't feel like our family was done was because we were supposed to have a girl. I didn't think I would have a dead baby girl I thought I would get to raise a baby girl.
We came home around 4. Our daughter was staying with the 2 older boys so we wanted to get home to them.
It was surreal. We left home going to a regular doctors visit and came home, no baby, not pregnant. Just to a world that had somehow gone gray in a day. There was no more magic in life. Nothing exciting to look forward too. I told Trav we just have to adjust to a new reality. There I am always trying to make everyone move forward. Life goes on, I always say. And even though I mean it and it is my mantra I just wanted the world to stop. Please let me grieve. Let me be sad. Let me just sit here until the hurt goes away. But life really does go on. And I couldn't take care of my family for 3 months because I was so sick and I didn't want to miss any more grieving for a baby that never really was or even never could be.
I don't sleep anymore. I haven't really since that night. That's why I'm still up at 5 in the morning. So I finally had to stop talking that morning to let Trav sleep. I finally drifted off to wake up around 9. Trav was up with our littlest. My daughter had been up early. She had done the dishes. She had gotten the boys and herself off. She had diced up onions and whipped up eggs for an omelet. She had simmered tea for me. What kindness and thoughtfulness. I know she was grieving but she was serving us. It made us both happy to think that we were raising her right. But that's too much credit to us because she really is a good girl on her own.
When I'm upset I move. So I cleaned all that day. Not scrubbing the floor and the toilets because that's no fun but I started organizing mundane things and doing laundry.
Trav just wanted to play video games because then he didn't have to think. That was fine with me. How do you console someone when you feel responsible for their grief? I don't want to feel sad anymore. I was sad the whole pregnancy knowing how it would end. It was sort of a relief to have some finality. It was agonizing for me to have to got 18 weeks before the baby died. The earlier the better I guess. I said that to a lady that dropped of dinner. I said I wish it had happened sooner and I don't think she was expecting that.
I will go on with my life. I really am fine. I need to find some color in my life again. And I will. I always do. I am not a moper. There's always something that needs to be done. I'm a mama. That's why I'm here.