You only get to choose what you hold onto

My dad strikes again.

When he came to see me and the baby, he told me that, "All there is in life is love. That's what gets us through and that's what we hold onto."

So that's what I choose--I choose love and I choose to let it multiply and thrive.

I choose the love of my beautiful, sensitive husband, my friends and family, and yes, the love that I have for my baby and that I know my baby has for me. I'd rather spend 6 hours with her (seemed like 10 minutes) than never to have known the love of cuddling and kissing her, even though she was already gone on arrival. I'm going to hang onto that love and take it with me.

I surprised myself in so many ways this past weekend. It quickly became obvious that I wasn't having a miscarriage. This wasn't something that would just go away. I had a baby. And even if that baby was coming into the world already at peace, it still needed it's momma. So that's what I chose to be and I am so, so glad that I did.

I know to some it may be strange that I'm here and I'm talking about this so openly and sharing my grief, but honestly I've always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve and when I have the words, I share them.

I have my dark moments. I've cried until I couldn't breathe. But when I have that moment to gasp for breath, I'm so grateful to have that breath to take.

We all have choices of what we hold onto in life--our bad childhoods, our fears, our insecurities, etc. But really--the easiest and most beneficial choice is to hang onto the love. I don't consider it an act of strength. It's just life.

Too sweet to stay

The past two days have blown my mind and changed my life in ways that I never expected, nor thought possible. In fact, just about everything I expected or worried about turned out to be the exact opposite. I'll share more as I can pull my thoughts together. For now I'm just going to record what I want to remember the most.

Our little girl would have turned out to be so beautiful. For as small as she was, she had chubby little cheeks, her dad's nose and hair color (on her eyebrows), and my chin and feet and hands--long and slender. I don't know whose lips she had, but they were so full and lovely.

I couldn't stop staring at her perfect little nose and sneaking a peek under the blanket at her perfect little bubble toes and the tiny creases on the bottom of her feet. Even when there were people in the room, I didn't want to take my eyes off of her. I'd see them again another time, but this was all of the time that I had.

So lovely, so peaceful, so gentle.

Baby Jude
August 29, 2009
12 oz, 10 inches


(EDIT: Yes, those feet are almost exactly to scale.)

Maybe I don't have any words...

but I do have something to share, one of my favorite songs by Ohio-based band Over the Rhine. And the imagery is especially appropriate, considering the lovely tribute that the GP'ers did for me yesterday.



xoxo,
MSC

What's next?

So I made it to 6 a.m. again--I consider that a good sign. The valium did help me fall asleep and stay asleep most of the night.

Last night after it kicked in, I suddenly had this frenzy to find some things of significance to take to the hospital, just in case I was suddenly overwhelmed with motherly abilities. I threw one of my receiving blankets from when I was a baby into the wash and I pulled out a rosary that my aunt made me for my confirmation that's made of heart shaped beads. I also scribbled in my baby journal for awhile (lord only knows why since I'm the only one who is going to read it now) and wrote out a laundry list of questions (god only knows if they're coherent) for the doctor.

And so here I am, sitting and waiting for this huge question mark of "What's gonna happen?" to reveal itself to me. I know people have gone through this before. I know that it shouldn't be as hard (physically) as full term labor, but I also know it's going to hurt, inside and out. And this labor that I'd longed for isn't going to happen.

It's a means to an end. I know that. And it has to happen. But it still feels like my heart's been ripped out and stomped on. The rug's been completely pulled out from under me and all of these hopes and dreams for what could be have been wiped out.

I know "what's left?" but what's next?

That I can't answer and it absolutely terrifies me.

I don't know if I'll be back before we leave (depends on if I have anything to say) but I'm going to go and spend some quiet time alone with my little love bug to say goodbye while it's just us. I don't think I can speak those words out loud with anyone else around.

Lots of love,
MSC

EDIT:
If there's one bright spot in this to be seen, it's that whenever I look at my dearest husband, I smile. I truly do love that man with all of my heart and I'm so grateful to have him and this wonderful life we have together. (Yes, I do believe that my life is generally wonderful, despite what's happening right now.)

He might not be able to be my rock right now, but he somehow is still exactly what I need. We take care of each other in this amazing, almost completely intuitive way that has made this more bearable. I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude for him that sometimes I almost think it's selfish to ask for anything more.

Audrey Hepburn said it best... "The best thing in life to hold on to is each other."

My pity party

God, I just keep clicking around the internet for no apparent reason. I just don't want to go to bed and have tomorrow come.

I am so fucking scared.

On the eve of this all...

I can't even begin to tell you how much the outpouring of support means to me. I never thought it would be so comforting to hear, "I'm sorry and I love you." My family, my friends, and my lovely e-friends. The posts, the emails, the private messages, the phone calls (even if I can't answer them), everything. You are all so amazing.

As far as my self assessment, I feel like I have a strong grasp on what's happened and I don't second guess the diagnosis and I'm cleared of any guilt that it's something I did. Sure, in the back of my head I have moments of, "What if it was my self doubt about if I'll be a good mother? What if it was bad karma?" but really? Those don't carry too much weight with me and so far it's easy to shrug it off.

It had to happen to someone. And actually, I don't really believe that there's someone up in the clouds who has to choose who it happens to. I don't really know if it's part of a greater plan. To me, it's just a statistic. I pulled the unlucky number. I can live with that. I don't want it to be that way, but I can live.

But tomorrow... Oooohhhh, tomorrow! I wish it did not have to come. This is not how I wanted my first labor to be. I was so excited for labor, as crazy as that sounds. It's supposed to be a miracle and a rite of passage that I held in the highest esteem... But not this way.

For those that are curious, they're going to give me a pill of cytotec every 4 hours to induce labor. When it finally gets uncomfortable, I'm opting for the epidural (in case I end up having to have a D&C afterwards that means they won't have to put me out and I don't want to be put out because of what it does to your body and recovery time). Pushing shouldn't be bad.

But what happens after that? Will it be gone already? Will it breathe? Can it possibly even choke out a cry? Will I suddenly be overwhelmed with the need to see it?

It's going to be a strange mental battle for me. I am terrified, petrified, and I don't know what other word to use to describe how afraid I am of dead things. It's almost debilitating. Dead animals, dead bodies, everything. Like if I'm in a funeral home, I can't walk near/look at a dead body. I just can't--it makes me physically ill.

So does it make me a bad mother if I can't see my baby or hold it? Is it a defense mechanism? Does it allow me to disassociate it all? Will my motherly instincts kick in and overcome this fear? Will I regret it?

I don't honestly know. All I can do is do what's best for me moment by moment and trust my best judgement.

I've read all of these loss forums over the past day. Most say to hold it, take pictures, etc. But I can't help but think that these forums and websites are representing a part of the population that needs these things for closure. I can't say that I can count myself in that number.

In my deepest darkest gut, I don't want to remember this as my baby who died. I want to remember it as my pregnancy that didn't work out. And I guess I'm going to have to keep following this gut for self preservation.

Anyway, the valium that I took a little while ago is kicking in. They wrote a script for me to get through this and I didn't need it during the day, but I'm gonna go ahead and enjoy it tonight to help me sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day.

All my love, MSC

So yesterday really happened, didn't it?

I awoke a few times during the night last night, shifted around, and reminded myself of what happened. And surprisingly, I actually made it to close to 6 a.m. before I just started bawling.

Yesterday really happened. This is what it feels like when you're told that your baby absolutely is going to die after you've carried it for five months. This is what it feels like to know you have to deliver a dead (or dying) baby. This is grief.

Huh. Never really been there before.

To tell you the honest truth, I lead a pretty charmed life. My family's in reasonable health and I haven't lost anyone really close to me before. I guess I just never thought it would be my child. How's that for irony? Wait. Is that actually "irony?" *sigh* I can't think.

You know it's funny. When I saw my sisters yesterday, I think they were both hoping that when they heard the full story that they'd see a glimmer or hope or that I'd just been a drama queen when I talked to them earlier on the phone. And believe me, I wish I was too. But that's it. It's the end of the road. What the fuck?!?!

I'm terrified of delivering this baby and what's to follow. Right now it's a death sentence, but no one is dead. In fact, I can still feel this little person wiggling around in my belly as if it's a little Who down in Whoville saying, "We are here! We are here! We are here!"

But it isn't really there. Not to stay.

I understand it's a numbers game. I understand that I pulled the unlucky number. And it had to be 1/6000 pregnancies that this happens to, it happened to me and my DH who can handle it. We will grieve, but it will get better.

It's funny that what started out as my original blog title has become more true than ever. The story behind it is sorta long, but I'll share it anyway.

My dad is an odd sort of bird who always says these philosophical things to people who never get it. We have this video of Christmas 1989 where me and all of my little cousins are tearing through our gifts and after they're all passed out my little cousin (who is about 6 at the time) asks my dad, "What's left?" To which my dad replies simply, "What's left? What's left you ask? There's life!"

When we saw this on video many years later we laughed so hard. Here's my dad trying to explain the end of the presents in a philosophical way to a child. Hilarious. Soooo dad.

So what's left you ask?

There's life, my dears. And yes, it will continue.

xoxo,
MSC

Bad news. Like, the worst news possible.

Forgive me if this is redundant to some of you, but it's just about the only way that I can explain the clusterfuck of badness that has happened.

We went in for our anatomy scan at 8 am and immediately everything was very grainy and hard to see. The baby was butt down and legs up and she couldn't even get remotely close to see the gender. And at the moment she said that I was pretty okay with it--as long as everything else turned out okay.

But it didn't. She only got to measure the heart and the brain because that was all she could get to. She commented on the lack of amniotic fluid making it hard for her to see anything, but that she'd go talk to the doctor and they'd probably be sending us to a specialist because usually when there's a lack of fluid like that it signals a kidney or a placenta problem.

Excuse me? Those are two very scary things!

She returns from talking to the doctor and wants to measure a few more items, but it doesn't seem like she finds what she's looking for. I try not to let panic creep in.

We talk to the doctor (who was Captain Cheerful as he shoved us out the door) who set us up with a specialist at 10:30. So we go home, we Google, and we wait.

So I read up and it seems that low amniotic fluid can be bad, especially this early can be kidneys/placenta, but it can be a few other things. So I root for those options, arm myself with a little info, and get into the car.

While in the car, I flip over the page that the doctor's office gave us with directions. The other side is the fax that they sent the specialist--that states I have NO AMNIOTIC FLUID with underlining and stars. I immediately lose it. It's not good.

I lose it again when we pull into the parking lot and I feel the baby wiggle inside of me. AAAHHH! It's a living nightmare.

I try to pull it together as we head there and wait in the waiting room. Then the u/s tech comes in and does her thing, takes a million photos, and just keeps searching. Finally she just marks a blank area, "Kidney area." I know what this means, but I just can't comprehend it. I can also see that as she takes her measurements that some things are just all over the place--giving due dates ranging from Dec. 17 to April (I'm assuming the non-existent kidneys.)

She left the room to get the doctor and I turned to my DH and said, "She didn't find kidneys. She just marked that a kidney area." He knew.

The specialist comes in and does her own search, takes another 100 photos and measurements, and then says to come into her office. She brings in another doctor and they tell us the news.

The baby has no kidneys and no bladder (in fact, I think the only digestive organ they found was a stomach). What happens in your first trimester is that your amniotic fluid is a saltwater mixture, but as you get into your 2nd tri, the baby starts to swallow the water which makes the lungs develop and the baby pees it out.

So our baby has swallowed the water, but it can't get it out. And it never will because it doesn't have the organs to do so. The baby is just stuffed in there because without amniotic fluid, the uterus can't keep expanding and the baby just gets more and more stuck.

It's a random occurrence. It's not preventable, it's not treatable and it has a zero chance of survival. They were very, very clear with us on this.

So that's it. They're calling tomorrow to discuss delivery options.

The Final Countdown

So… Why have I been quiet? Have I been busy? Have I not had things to say?

I honestly don’t know. I only have the lame sorts of excuses given by tweens who didn’t do their homework. I may promise to do better, but it’s probably a lie. *sigh*

But let’s roll like the comic books do and start in the thick of the plot. Drumroll please.



In Media Res…
This summer’s been an eventful one. I’ve been party planning my (not so) little tushy off for friends and family. Birthday parties, an engagement party, family cookouts… The list goes on and on. Throw in a little family vaycay to the OBX and a weekend on the lake with the IL’s and you have a full-fledged summer.

Except Ohio sucks and forgot to add the warm weather to the mix. We’re always forgetting something!

I’ve had things to say—but I’ve been recording all of my “letters to baby” in a paper journal so that my kid will have a better understanding of the importance of paying attention in penmanship classes. Wait, do they still do penmanship? Am I dating myself by admitting that we had penmanship? Shit.

The rest of my daily trials and tribulations get posted to my message board(s) of choice. So at the risk of being even more redundant, I haven’t been blogging.

But here’s what you really came here for:

I feel fine. Sure, I have random stabbing pains through my abdomen and lady bits and there are new oddities that pop up daily, but I’m just so effing grateful that I skipped morning sickness that overall I have to say that this pregnancy has been pretty easy so far. *knocks on wood*

And I bet you can’t guess what tomorrow is! While you try and guess, let me provide you with some entertainment (and the song that's stuck in my head right now, also showing my age.)



The big ultrasound! The day that I’ve been dying for since I got my BFP. The day I’ve obsessed, lost sleep over, and tried to manipulate my midwife into giving me an earlier date. Yes, it’s here!

So you ask, “Aren’t you excited, MSC? Are you freaking the fuck out like I thought you would?”

Meh.

It’s weird. Over the past few weeks, something has come over me that has released the anxiousness that I felt before. Sure, I’m glad that I’ll get to see my baby and check in to make sure it’s doing fine, but really? In my very core I guess at this moment I don’t care about the gender that much and everything feels like it’s going just fine.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s going to be great to actually get to shop and stop waiting to get things rolling, but there’s something about things starting to roll (and not to be able to stop) that has made me really relish and savor this moment.

It’s a world of possibility right now and I’ve been sitting back and smiling at it.

I’ve also been enjoying the past two weeks as I’ve started to feel a little motion. Still nothing distinct like a kick, but a general movement in my abdomen—sometimes a motion sick feeling, sometimes little pops. And my intestines are waaaaay up in my ribs so when my food digests, they vibrate like a cell phone is going off. Bizarre.

All of this combined is making it start to feel more real for me. I know it seems fairly simple and you’re all going to look at each other and say, “Duh, you’re a total dumbass” when I say this, but it just blows my mind that two people can come together and make another human being. Mindblowing, I tell you.

I am so ridiculously in love with my husband right now that I can barely handle it. I can’t even fathom creating something that’s uniquely both of us for us to nurture and love. (Okay, okay, enough mushy stuff!)

So tomorrow I’ll be around with an update… My boss has been forewarned that I’ll be spending the rest of the day selecting bedding, finalizing nursery plans, and shopping Hartstrings clearance, so I think we’re all set!

XOXO, MSC