On August 17th, around 10pm, I gave birth to the most beautiful, perfect little baby I have ever seen.... 6 months too early.
Like my previous blog stated, I had started to have small contractions early morning on Aug. 17th and went to the ER, where I was told that my baby had a heartbeat of 153bpm, but was fully engaged, and later I read in the reports that I was dilated to 3.8cm. I came home and prayed, hard. God had other plans that day, because later that night, my little bean came into the world sleeping.
My heart hurts, and my eyes sting as I write this, but I didn't want to wait because I want to keep a journal of our journey.
I came home and slept for several hours, all the while having nightmares, and scary thoughts, and worsening contractions. Just like the first miscarriage (which I was stupid to try and do from home this time considering I was 13 weeks, and not 9 like last time) the contractions started to progress around 9pm, and the sac ruptured. I knew that at that point, my chances of having a full pregnancy were over and it was time for this baby to come into the world.
Around 10pm, the contractions were coming every 45 seconds and bad. Again, like last time, Matt was with me the entire time and took great care of me as I prepared to deliver our sleeping child. I ended up sitting on the toilet because I felt the most comfortable there. The contractions were so bad, and so painful this time, that I really thought I was going to die. I knew I was in trouble when I started telling Matt that "I can't do this anymore"... I stood up for a second, then sat right back down because my body was too weak. All of the sudden, my world started to blur, I was seeing stars and I felt I had no control of my body. I just kept saying "call 911" and "here I go" (I was going to pass out). I had bled through about 4 pads in an hour, which was extremely dangerous. Our lovely LV paramedics showed up and saved me. Right before I got up to get on the gurney, I felt something pass, but not completely.
I was brought to the ER, where I was started on IVs. I told the nurse something was "stuck" and she took a look and told me it was the baby. My baby. My dream... was over. I looked at our little bean for a long time. Looked just like a baby, just very small (about 5-6" long). The only thing physically that didnt look fully developed was that it's eyes were still the black dots. But my baby had fingers, toes, ears, lips... I could see its little ribs through its skin. A perfectly round head, a little tiny belly. The most beautiful little bean I have ever seen. Before I left my bean at the hospital, I said my goodbyes and looked at it one more time. This time I looked closer, and saw that this baby had the exact same lip shape as Matt and Evan. Their top lips protrude and point out in the middle. This baby was going to look like it's big brother.
The nurses were VERY sweet, and I was in my own private room in the ER, where I had privacy. I ended up passing everything else, and had a pelvic exam and then sent home. The pain was so much more intense this time than the last time that I ended up accepting morphine from the hospital. It helped, SO much. My final diagnosis: Premature labor, resulting in miscarriage.
My bean stayed at the hospital to be tested by pathology. The OB specialist told me that it didn't make much sense that my body was ending the pregnancy, and that it would probably end up being a problem with me (thyroid, fibrosis, etc). I was tested for cycstic fibrosis with the first pregnancy, and thyroid a few months ago and none came back positive. So, only time will tell.
Some of my friends have asked why they couldnt stop it or stitch me. Well, when you are already dilated to almost 4cm and the baby is engaged, there is no stopping it. Sometimes I wonder if I went in earlier the night before if they could have helped, but there is no second guessing. My HCG went from over 32,000 to 27,000 in about a week. My guilt, anger, sadness and rage are so elevated that it's hard for me to talk to anyone. When I start to talk to Matt, I lose it. My anxiety came rushing back, and also my insecurities. I feel like my world makes no sense anymore. I hear some of my friends telling me they've, or someone they know lost babies, 2, 6, 1, and to stay positive. I don't care who you are, you are not positive, and honestly, your Faith is brought down a few notches too after losing 2 babies within 6 months. This one is so much harder. My baby was growing, and had a perfect little beating heart. MY body decided it was time to finish the pregnancy. Again, the guilt is so hard to deal with. I just want to scream and rip my skin off.
As if all of this wasn't bad enough, apparently, at 13 weeks, your boobs have prepared for feeding. It feels like there are sacks of rocks in my boobs and they are rock hard, and hurt badly. I've also had milk leaking out since last night. That, on top of the awful cramping and bleeding, make this so much harder.
I know in time my heart may mend, but it will always have 2 spots that hurt and ache for the babies that Matt and I created. Right now, I don't even want to think about trying again. My fear of having this happen a 3rd time, is so high that thinking about getting pregnant again is completely out of my mind.
Thank you so much for all of your texts, emails and comments. It means a lot knowing that I have such an amazing group of family and friends. Please continue to pray for my Strength, and Faith in this awfully sad time.
I hope to be back chatting with friends and responding the texts within a week or two. Right now, I can only handle talking to my mom and Matt, and writing in this blog.