Wednesday, March 12, 2008

30 weeks, 4 days

That's how far I'd be if I were still pregnant. I know I should stop counting. Can't seem to let it go, even though it hurts. The bloggers who got pg when I was pregnant, and then after, are getting to the point (and beyond) where I was when I lost my sons. I had occasionally been going to their sites, but I don't think I can do that anymore. My local friend who's pregnant is 18 weeks and change. (At 18 weeks, I had just a little bit of spotting, my first in the pregnancy -- not to worry said the doctor). I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to see her, talk with her.

I'm kind of a freak when it comes to dates and anniversaries. I remember the first everything. If not the date, then the season, the time of day, the weather. I remember everything.

Except that night. I remember my sister sitting in one of the two chairs in my L&D room making me laugh to distract me, overstaying the 10 minutes at a time rule I instituted because (aside from the hospital rules) my room was too small to hold everyone. I remember my brother and brother in law taking up the chairs, awkward. I remember the huge cart the young, cute (and apparently new) anesthesiology resident wheeled in, after moving furniture around and then out. I remember the pain of the needle or catheter or whatever it was hitting the nerve in my back. I remember the nurse, Bob, who held me in the right position, and how nice he was, how nice it was to just lean against someone.

I remember seeing my belly change shape with contractions that I couldn't really feel. I remember pain grabbing me so hard around my hips, I was clinging to the handrail, and the doctor -- or someone -- said you're 8 cm, it's time to push. It's time to push. And I cried, I don't know how, I can't do it. But I did it.

I remember my husband holding my hand with red rimmed, worried eyes, with tears. I remember the doctor trying to tear the remains of placenta from inside me. I was out of my mind, asking for tylenol, please something. In a haze, I remember them saying, don't you want morphine? Give her 3 of morphine. And more pain -- so much pain. I screamed. I actually screamed and the doctor said Make it 5.

I remember getting a sponge bath and sheets changed under me at 4am, or 6 am or some ungodly hour. I remember falling in and out of sleep, smiling, thinking "Oh, I had my babies!" Then, "Oh, but they're gone."

One of these days I'll connect the pieces and write something coherent. There's so much more, but I can't really see the screen anymore.


Anonymous said...

Still thinking and praying for you...I am glad you are able to get some of this out on paper even if it seems to not make any sense...I think whatever you are able to accomplish is a step in the healing process....I too remember everything when it comes to dates...(must be a girl thing!!), ....I pray God will give you peace..

Ann said...

I'm so sorry you had to experience such pain. It seems so cruel--we have to have the pain, but none of the joy of childbirth.

A loss like this one changes you forever.

luna said...

ann is right.

it's hard not to see dates that way. I still do it, two years later, measuring things in terms of what I don't have or what should have been.

beautiful heartbreaking posts. thinking of you.

also I love that your dh is blogging. it's so therapeutic and I'm so glad you've both found your voices and an outlet.


Antigone said...

It's good to get it out and it's good to cry.

Tash said...

I'm really so sorry. I didn't read any pregnancy blogs while I was, so there was nothing to do except wallow in my own crappy life. But the reminders of other people who had babies around the same time (the woman 4 doors down, who also had a daughter) loom large, and haunt me to this day.

I always followed the days of the week too, and then it turned into the number days, and then it sort of just passes.

It's all horrible, and there's no easy way, just through it.

c. said...

While I was pregnant, I frequented a forum where moms expecting during the same month all met. I went to the forum quite a few times after C@llum died. It was sick curiosity that led me back. Also the fact that I wanted them to recognize, permanently, my loss. They didn't. They just talked about their healthy little pregnancies and subsequent live babies making me feel like I didn't belong there anymore. And I didn't.

I was traumatized by my experience in the hospital. The physical pain. The emotional torture. It was awful...but I never want to forget it.