It was a routine checkup, I was headed to the Dr. for my First Trimester screening. A screening I was very much looking forward to. I get to see my little chickpea dance around in my tummy, check up on his/her new developments, and awe over the little miracle growing inside of me. The Dr. danced the fetal doppler around my tummy for about 15 minutes trying to find a heart beat. He was so calm and said not to worry because being so early in the pregnancy, a heartbeat can be hard to detect. For reassurance, he ordered for me to get an ultrasound. It was in that room, my world changed forever. As the tech moved the wand in a sea of warm jelly, the ultrasound revealed a lifeless baby. No movement. No heartbeat. My child was gone at 11 weeks. She looked at me and said, "Honey, I'm so, so sorry." I didn't even hear her, my eyes were focused on the screen. A part of me believed she would start moving again. The silence from the flat line will haunt me forever. "There's no heart beat." She was immediately hugging me. She left the room to get the doctor and I immediately broke down. This can't be happening, I thought. There has to be a mistake. An explanation. I need something...
With my head down, masking my tears, I walked what felt like an eternity, down the hall to meet the doctor while surrounded by happy, mothers-to-be. Why is this happening to me, I pondered.
My nurse walks in, hugs me tightly, and said some comforting words. I felt her getting emotional so she left the room swiftly. The doctor follows in immediately after, hugged me and apologized. He too was in shock and disbelief. I said, "I didn't understand! Olivia was a flawless pregnancy. I'm healthier now than I was before. I do everything right!" I was trying to make sense of something that didn't make any sense at all. My doctor very sweetly told me, I wasn't alone and it is very common. Not totally common this far into the pregnancy but not uncommon. As many as 1 in 3 women will miscarry. I just never thought it would happen to me. To our surprise, the baby had been deceased almost a week already and the dr. gave me my options on what to do. One of my options was to go the natural route, and let nature take its course. The thought of seeing my dead baby was traumatizing enough. What would I do, just sit on the toilet and wait for her to fall out? What if I was alone? What would I do with her little body? I decided to schedule a DNC immediately and he kindly moved around other surgeries to accommodate me. It scared me to know I had a dead baby inside of me and I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to. I sat alone in the waiting room, leaning my head on the wall, waiting for my surgery to be scheduled. I listened to a very loud and healthy heart beat beating loudly in the room next to me. In that instant, the real reality of our loss sunk in. Thank God, my mom walked in not knowing all that had just happened. Mother's intuition I guess. My face said it all. I had to make that long drive home, one hand on the wheel, the other on my tummy. I kept thinking, just move. A flutter. A sensation. Anything! Silence... I told Brandon all the devastating news and he was so brave. He remained so strong and positive as I cried in his arms.
I held my stomach all night, waiting for something... still nothing. That morning we drove to South Miami Hospital where I was scheduled to have my baby removed. I was scared and overcome with emotions. I still can't believe this was happening to me. To us. To our little family. I asked all the nurses and doctors to take good care of me, gave everyone hugs, waived goodbye, and was headed down a bright, long hallway to the operating room. It was lights out from there... The procedure took less than 20 minutes. As I was being wheeled out of the hospital, I couldn't help but feel such emptiness in my arms. I reminisced about that moment I was leaving the hospital with Olivia in my arms for the first time. I continued to have flashbacks of my baby on the monitor, the silence. Strangely, in between all those emotions, I would think, what would we name our child, boy or girl, how he or she would feel and smell, and continue to feel my stomach as if it was still there and existed.
In the last 24 hours, I've lost what would have been my second child at 11 weeks young and had her/his body removed from mine. I'm recovering fine and beginning to face the emotional challenges that come with a miscarriage. I'm not going to sugar coat things, I'm completely devastated and heartbroken. I have a hole in my heart that is constantly burning and reminding me of what just happened. May 28, 2014 will come and go but I will cherish our short time together always. Yet, as always when I find the time to write my blog posts, I'm watching Olivia nap next to me. Her tummy breathing in and out. Her eyelashes flutter away as she dreams. Her little hairs dancing from the draft of the fan. Listening to her breath bounce off the pillow. I'm so thankful for this little angel lying next to me. I know she will one day make a wonderful and very bossy big sister; just not this time around. I am thankful for those people who came to the hospital (to keep those in the waiting room distracted) and those visits to our home. Thank you for the phone calls, the ear, the tissues, prepared meals, the hugs, text messages, and kind words and gestures. I hear all of it loud and clear and will never forget them. Thank you for the flowers. Thank you for helping clean up the house after Tornado Olivia and Hurricane Brandon. Those late night cinnamon buns never smelled sweeter. Thank you for everything.
Most importantly, to my child I never got to physically hold, I'm thankful for our short time together. I may never know or understand the reasoning why you left us so soon, however it brings me peace knowing your young soul is being taken care of by a special man above.
While this is a very difficult time for Brandon and I, I just want to share some happy and special moments when we found out we were expecting baby #2.
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