Wednesday, December 24, 2008

The inevitable countdown

The day before the day before (Sunday, Dec 23)
Ah, finally included in the (prospective) parent club, C and I had been invited to S's for a cookie making holiday casual thing Sunday night, but I wasn't feeling great, and just wanted to cocoon at home. C was not invested either way, so we stayed in. A recent resurgence of a tenuous appetite had somehow convinced me that some instant macaroni and fake cheese meal would stay down and taste good, so it was C on the couch, me on the loveseat (where I could kind of recline) and M&FC for the evening.

Well, it seemed my stomach was not ready for such culinary adventures, and sometime in the mid evening, I rushed to the bathroom. Not to throw up. If you know what I mean and I think you do. It seemed odd to me, as I had not had such an experience in probably 3 or 4 months, but just took it to be my body changing. Again.

I felt kinda crappy and went to bed at a decent hour.

The Day Before (Monday, the 24th)
Even though we weren't traveling, C wanted to get some work done before the holidays really started so he could just enjoy a quiet week of not going in to school, so off he went. I had nothing specific planned, (except scanning the internet for cheap last minute fares so I could go be with JK, should the worst happen with her father) so I slept in, sort of, and parked myself on the loveseat again. (It's about 15 years old, kinda ugly with a cheap slipcover on it, but damn if that wasn't the best spot for naps.) So I did just that. One or the other of the cats accompanying me.

It was grey and chilly out, and spent literally the entire day on the loveseat, wrapped in an awesome down comforter throw, and getting up every now and then to try to eat something. My milk craving had mostly passed, and I was sipping diet coke and eating potato chips, just to eat something. Maybe some ramen (I know, totally gross). And ice water. Bottles filled halfway with ice, the rest with water. It was still the only way I could bear it.

And so I spent my day, on the internet, watching crappy Monday, Christmas Eve day TV and looking for cheap fares. Every so often it occurred to me that I should do something. Get up. Shower. Run a load of dishes or laundry or something. But I was really tired. And really comfy, well ensconced. Somehow, the day escaped from me, and I was in the same position on the loveseat as I was when C got home.

I had been feeling kind of achy in my abdomen, nothing terrible, maybe just growing pains, or repercussions from the night before. It occurred to me that I hadn't felt much movement, but at just over 19 weeks, I comforted myself with the fact that I probably wouldn't feel much regularly this early anyway. My lower back was a little achy, kinda, and I shifted a bit throughout the day. It was only a little ache, and hell, I was pregnant with twins. (Oh, and that great big river? The one you thought was in Egypt? It runs through my small college town, apparently.)

There were a couple of moments I briefly considered calling my OB's office, but I really felt like, nah, I'm totally over reacting, and honestly, I was tired of being condescended to by the staff, and dismissed my the doctors. (to get fluids, I usually had to call up crying (or trying to cry) because I hadn't peed all day and had no tears to cry). The ache in my back was pregnancy, a normal symptom, of course. In my belly? Last night's apocalypse and growing twins. Now that I was eating more, they were probably growing more.

We spent a quiet evening, C and I, watching TV, him reaching over to my belly every now and then to say "BOYS!" or "Boys, you just keep working hard growing, okay? You're working so hard growing."

And we went to bed.

*****

Sometimes I wonder if anything might have been different if I had called, if I would have been dismissed by the staff or even if I had come in. Joshua was probably already gone, along with most of his fluid. I wonder if we could have saved Jacob. Kept his sac from rupturing.

Hindsight isn't even 20/20. I really couldn't even imagine anything being wrong. I had just had a check up (cursory, though it may have been) and everything had seemed fine. I was eating, finally. We even had our first baby furniture: the bouncy seat that S got us.

We were almost halfway there.

18 comments:

CLC said...

Reliving the days leading up are so hard. Thinking of you and C this holiday and hoping the days pass quickly. I wish I had better words for you.

Tash said...

Oh S. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to write and share the story with us. I know my saying this means diddly-boo and you need to convince yourself, but there is *nothing* that could've been done. It sounds to me as though an earlier phone call would've set you up on monitoring -- where you would've been when the shit hit the fan inevitably anyway. There is no failure here, only tragically bad luck.

The love you both had for your boys shines through your writing. I'm so overwhelmingly sorry for your loss. Thinking of you this week, especially.

Newt said...

My heart breaks for you, Sue and C, going through this awful anniversary. I stopped by (in-laws safely in the next room), to let you know I'm thinking of you and your Jacob and Joshua.

Take good care, and I hope it's somehow healing to live through this time and emerge on the other side.

Good Egg Hunting said...

Here from L&F, and just wanted you to know that you're in my thoughts as you go through this difficult anniversary.

Aunt Becky said...

You're all in my heart today. I'm so sorry. Shit. I'm just so sorry, STE and C.

birdsandsquirrels said...

Sue, you and C, and Jacob and Joshua are in my thoughts and prayers as you go through this heartbreaking anniversary. Wishing you peace and comfort in each other.

Mrs. Spit said...

Remembering with you, as you walk this long and dark road.

We are all with you, surrounding you. We can't make it better, or really, even easier, but we are with you.

You are not alone.

G$ said...

You are in my thought and heart today (and always).

I hate the what if's but it seems to be a necessity of sorts, I guess for all of us. Much love hun.
xoxo

luna said...

oh sue, this is so heartbreaking reading, knowing the inevitable outcome. you know there was nothing they could have done, nothing you could have done differently. maybe there is a sad peace to be found there.

these days are so very hard. the anticipation, memories of the moments before and after, reflecting on what should have been, and feeling every ounce what is instead.

remembering jacob and joshua with you and C today, and holding you in all my heart.

Anonymous said...

thinking of you today.
Love Ms. Jess

beth said...

thinking of you and C. and your boys today, with a whole lot of love for all of you.

Anonymous said...

It's amazing the minute details that you can remember from the middle of a horribly painful blur of a memory. Off-hand remarks, what was on TV, maybe what you were wearing.

I wish there was some way to help you feel better... especially today and for the next 10. But all I can do is send my love. So I do. We do. To you and C, and the memory of the boys.

Much love....
JayKay

Nikole said...

Thinking of you and holding you close in my heart. Remembering your boys, always.

c. said...

I continue to play the what0ifs over and over in my head. I wonder if we will always torture ourselves in this way.

Thinking of you, Sue, and C and your boys. Sending much love. XO.

Amy said...

Thinking of you and C. and holding you both close to my heart tonight, tomorrow and always.

Julia said...

Oh, Sue... I am with Tash-- nothing, but nothing could've been done. I am sorry you are here and not where you are supposed to be right now. There is nothing else to say or do.
I am here as you walk through these terrible days...

loribeth said...

I haven't read any of your more recent posts yet. But I agree, that reliving those last few days leading up to "the" day is almost always worse than the actual day itself. I hope this holds true for you too. Many ((((hugs)))).

k@lakly said...

Echoing the chorus, nothing could have been done. You did it all right, nature fucked it up. Bad.
I'm so sorry for you, for C, and for your beautiful boys. They deserved a long lifetime with you, not the few short weeks they had.
I hope the writing and the inevitable tears that come with it help you in some way, to heal. I know it's a bitch to write it, but it did, at least for me, help me to see it, to not be afraid, as much, to think about it. But I still have a really long way to go...I guess we all do.
xxoo