Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Happiness is having someone to grieve with…

Author: thenicknick

This isn’t the post I planned to write.  No, I had this amazing wonderful uplifting post wherein I shared the many things I have to be thankful for and how an attitude of gratitude makes for true happiness.  And that’s all true.  At the same time, I’m having to change directions completely because of the way events have unfolded in my life as of late.

You see…yesterday, I found out our baby had died.

Yes, I knew something was wrong when I found all this discharge after using the bathroom at work.  So, I called the doctor’s office.  And, as is always the case, I was told to come in.

On my way, I called S, only to discover he was working.  I wanted to be wrong.  I wanted to go to the doctor and be told that I was this hypochondriac and to simply return to work.  I wanted this baby so badly.  We both did.

And so I made it to the office and sat and waited.  They were squeezing me in the day before a holiday.  So, I sat patiently and as calmly as possible.  Then it all went south.  The nurse couldn’t find a heart beat on the doppler.  I was in line for an ultrasound.  And that’s when it became clear.

I saw instantly that our once highly active baby wasn’t moving.  And I watched the tech for verification.  She was focused and tried one thing after another on the screen.  I suddenly saw colors I hadn’t seen before.

me: What are the colors?

tech: It’s where we see blood flow.

me: I don’t see his heart beating.

And that’s when she did this hiccup…the one that’s supposed to hold back a cry.  In a hushed voice she responded.

tech: I don’t either.

me: So our baby died.

tech: I’m so sorry.  Let me talk to the doctor.

She passed me a bunch of tissues and left the room.  I wanted to call S.  I needed to call S.  At the same time, I couldn’t bear to speak the words I knew I had to say.  I was brought to another room.  And I called him from there.

me: His heart isn’t beating.

S: So, our baby died?

And all I could do was sniffle loudly.

S: Where are you?  I’m leaving work.  I’ll be there as soon as possible.

I cried during the entire wait.  Oh, there were brief moments where I stopped.  I looked about the room I had been placed in.  There was this horrible sign at eye level: Good things will happen today.  And I started crying again.  I was digging deep to find them.  I had to let Rachel know.  And the office had to know.  I had disappeared rather suddenly.  I still hadn’t spoken with the doctor and I knew we had to discuss our options.

So, I was moved to a bland room with a recliner and a television.  I turned on a distraction, opting for Dog the Bounty Hunter, figuring everyone on there was in a worse place than I was.  Small consolation.  And then what always happens, happened.  I was suddenly calm.  And I knew S was near.

He was lost in the next building, calling me for directions.  I passed the phone over and tried to collect myself.  Yup, tear stained face, puffy eyes.  No way to cover it all up.  Bag please?

He had brought me a sweet tea to drink.  And he wrapped me in one of his magic hugs.

me: Still love me?

S: Of course.  Forever, babe.

And he sat in the recliner.  I’m more of a pacer.  And I was beginning to cramp.  We talked.  The doctor came in and wrapped me in a huge hug.  It was time to discuss our options.  And S wanted answers.  The answers could take some time, or they might never come.

We planned my surgery.  I had to have a D and C.  Who knew when the miscarriage would happen, and I really didn’t want to risk major blood loss.

me: Can we do it today?

doctor: Well, we could do it Saturday.  It would give you a few days.

me: I don’t want a few days.  What time today?

She tried to urge me to take the time, but S interceded.

S: When Nicki makes up her mind, and wants to press on, there’s no deterring her.

So, they told me they’d call as soon as the surgery was scheduled.  By now, it was 2pm.  We headed home.

Within ten minutes, I had a call.  I would need to be at the hospital by 3:3opm.  The surgery was set for 6pm.  We met at the house to take my vehicle.  I hadn’t eaten since 8am, and I wasn’t hungry even if they had allowed me to eat.  It was not drinking after I had so effectively dehydrated myself that was the challenge.

We drove back to the hospital and checked in.  There were periodic tears.  What was my surgical procedure?  And more tears.  How far along was I?  And more tears.  What is your weight?  Okay, I just sniffled on that one.

And S stayed with me every possible moment.  He soothes me.  I’m better in his presence.  He knows how to be with me.  He anticipates and sees to my every need.

That’s why the minute we were left alone in the pre-op room, he climbed onto the gurney with me.  We snuggled and he napped some.  He went with me to the pre-op hold and helped me joke with the doctors and nurses.  We’d rather grieve privately and stay in good spirits in public.  He was hurting, too.  I could see it.

We were home by 8:30pm that night.  We stayed up late talking and crying and holding each other.  We woke up after a four hour nap at 5am to talk and cry and hold each other.  We wanted to get this all out of our system…or at least the very worst of it.  We are of such similar minds.

I’ve lost a baby before.  Experience doesn’t soften the blow.  But what does make the pain more bearable is the shared burden.  Grieving with S helped so much.  Sharing our thoughts and feelings helped.  And knowing how much I was loved helped.

I’m in great hands, and arms, and against an amazing chest.  I am loved and cared for.  As miserable as I could be, I’m not.  We’ll heal from this.  We’re working on it already.  And once the doctor gives her blessing, once we sit down to plan, we’ll try again.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 25th, 2010 at 11:18 am and is filed under Happiness is.... You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.