Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Coping

Hi baby,
I didn’t cry this morning and it is bothering me. I got teary, but I just couldn’t have a big cry like I usually do in the morning. I’m not ready to stop crying yet. Maybe it is just this morning that I won’t cry. Maybe I am moving into a stage of feeling numb. I have also had moments of feeling really angry that this happened to you and to us.
Yesterday was good and bad. There was a meeting for a bunch of people at work that started at 9am. Yesterday was 2 weeks from the day that you were born at 9am. I just kept looking at the clock thinking about what was happening 2 weeks ago at that time. Later someone called Ted to give his condolences and said that I looked so sad in the meeting. This was one person who does know what we are going through as they lost a baby at 7 months into a pregnancy years ago.
I also kept having flashbacks to the time that Dr. A couldn’t find your heartbeat and gave up trying. I was lying on the bed in her exam room. I would look at her face for a bit, then look at the ceiling – willing your heartbeat to be heard. She found mine a few times and the first time I was relieved, but I realized pretty quickly that it was my heartbeat and not yours. She tried for about 3 minutes to find it, moving the Doppler all over my belly. Finally she took it off, looked at me sadly and quietly said that she couldn’t find your heartbeat. I just nodded. She said I needed an ultrasound right away and left to call the hospital. I started crying while she was gone, getting my stuff ready to leave. Then she came back and said they could see me right away and asked if I was okay to get there. She also said that it was pretty unusual for her not to be able to hear the heartbeat at this stage (she told me a few hours later that she has never not been able to find the heartbeat at this stage and had it turn out fine). I kept telling myself that everything was okay, that you were just hiding or something. But I knew that you were too big to hide and that you were gone even before having the ultrasound. It was the most horrible feeling. Every time I remembered her backing away from the table and saying that she couldn't hear your heartbeat, my heart just dropped and I felt such a crushing sadness.

I went to the place where I had the laser eye surgery done last year. I was supposed to go on May 13th for a checkup, but that day I was having an ultrasound because of the slight bleeding I was having so I cancelled it.  My eyes have been blurrier lately, especially my right eye. I know the hormones can affect your vision, but since I missed a checkup, I thought I would go and make sure everything was OK. I saw someone who did the basic tests and told her that I had had a baby 2 weeks ago when I was 5 months pregnant and that you were stillborn. I guess she wasn't listening because she said 'Congratulations', so I told her that you died. She grimaced and then said she was sorry. Then I was taken in to see the doctor and I didn't know if she wrote down the information on my chart so I told him that my son was stillborn 2 weeks ago and the pregnancy may be effecting my vision. He asked if I was breastfeeding. I said that you died and he said that he was really sorry to hear that, etc.
I didn’t sleep well at all last night. I was holding your blanket, like I always do, but I kept tossing and turning. I thought about how you may have been cremated that day and that your body is no longer in the world with me. Just before it was time to get up, I fell asleep and had a dream that I gave birth to another baby, a boy I think. I think I was at home or in a car or something. It didn’t hurt that much, but the main thing was that the baby was alive and I was so grateful for that.
The good part of yesterday is that I think that the condo has sold. Two weeks ago as we were leaving you at the hospital for the last time, I never would have thought that 2 weeks from that date we would be signing a Purchase & Sale Agreement for the condo. I thought I would never be able to concentrate on something like that again. It wasn’t easy to concentrate, but somehow I did it.
Another good thing from yesterday is that Sheila asked me what your name is. I was so happy that someone asked about you. We had a long talk about miscarriages and stuff. She told me about her older brother who died 5 weeks after he was born premature, after being in the hospital the whole time. Her parents had been told that he would be able to go home the next week, but something happened and he died. Her Dad and his brother took the baby and buried him. Her Mom never knew where he was buried and she never named him. That was the way things were then. I’m so glad they have changed. I couldn’t stand it if I didn’t know where you are Jacob.

Lindsay called from Spain to see how things were. I didn’t realize that she didn’t know the whole story from the time that Dr. A couldn’t find your heartbeat to the time that I was induced. I was glad to have someone to talk to about the whole thing again.
We want to have your memorial service soon, but it has been stressful trying to figure out when it would be since Lindsay wants to be there and so does Keisha, but neither of them will be in town at the same time until December. They will both be here August, but at different times. I didn’t think we would have you back until the end of June and then Mike wouldn’t be available to conduct the memorial service until August. We are trying to organize it for this weekend. Part of me wants to hang on to your ashes as long as possible. The other part of me wants to complete all of this so that I don’t have to think about the planning of the service anymore. People say it will help me to move on and it will in terms of not having to continually think of things that I have to do.
I will never stop thinking about you though. You are always on my mind baby.
I love you,

Mommy.

2 comments:

Lucid Anne said...

I cried reading your description of finding no heartbeat. I cried for you, for me, for Jacob and Valentina. I wish these weren't our lives.

And I can't believe those two people weren't listening to you. Its hard enough for us to choke out the word "stillborn"- and then to have to correct them... it just makes me so mad.

I hope today is gentle to you. <3

Hannah Rose said...

I just stumbled across your page..I'm so, so sorry for your loss! Those first few days and weeks are so raw, so painful. My daughter, Lily, was born still on March 16 of this year. You will find a lot of support in the blogging world. I sure have. Thinking of you, Hannah Rose. Check out my blog; roseandherlily.blogspot.com