Angel Baby

My mom’s surgery was on January 3rd.  I went in to work that day and waited with bated breath to get a call to hear that surgery was a success.  Finally my dad called me.  Not only were they able to remove all of the cancer, the doctors were able to do the surgery arthroscopically, meaning a quicker recovery time for my mom.  I was flooded with a feeling of relief.  My mommy was going to be ok.

The Husband and I headed up to the hospital later that night to check on our patient.  Although mom looked like she had just run a marathon, she was doing well.  We sat and chatted for a while.  We watched while mom ate some soup and crackers.  We were even allowed to call my brother in Tahiti to reassure him that our mother had survived the dreaded surgery.

Finally it was time to go.  I gave my mom a hug goodbye and told her that I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for the next day.  “Give me a call as soon as it’s over, I want to hear all about it, “she told me.

I slept well that night.  I again was overcome with peace knowing that my mom was going to be ok.

The next morning I started to get ready for my doctor’s appointment.  The Husband had to work, so he wasn’t able to come with me.  After The Husband left for work, I had this nagging feeling that I needed to call him and ask him to come with me.  I dismissed the feeling; I didn’t want to burden him with my emotional insecurities.

I put on my clothes and fixed my hair.  I again had a nagging feeling that I needed someone to go with me to my appointment.  But The Husband was at work and my mom was still recovering in the hospital. 

I made my way to my doctor’s office.  As I sat in the waiting room the thought came to me “You need to call Stephanie, you need someone here with you at this appointment.”  Stephanie, my sister-in-law, had stayed the night at my parent’s house and was only about 10 minutes away from the doctor’s office.  But I quickly argued my impression, “It would be so awkward”, I thought, “These appointments are uncomfortable enough”.

So, I went into my appointment alone.

When my doctor arrived he was all smiles.  “This is my favorite appointment!” he exclaimed, “They look like little gummy bears, lots of movement!”.  I was thrilled, but I still felt like I had a little black rain cloud hovering over me.  “Call Steph, she can be here in 10 minutes, you need her here”, that little voice said.  I stubbornly told the little voice “I can do this myself”.

My little black rain cloud was not nearly as adorable as this one.

I lay back on the exam table and hoisted my feet up in the stirrups.  The doctor turned on the sonogram machine.  I nervously stared at the screen. 

As soon as I saw my baby, I knew something was terribly wrong.  My baby did NOT look like a little gummy bear and he was NOT moving around.  Worst of all, I could not see a heart beat.

The room was silent.  The doctor, the nurse and I all knew what this meant.  The doctor tried to stay positive.  “Let me try a few things, there may still be a heart beat, it just may not be very strong”.  But his efforts were futile.

“I’m so sorry,” my doctor said.  He helped me up to a sitting position.  “You’re going to need two things”.  He handed me a washcloth to wipe off the ultrasound goo and a box of tissues.

“I want you to know that this wasn’t your fault,” my doctor explained, “sometimes this just happens and we don’t really know why.”

I couldn’t speak.  I didn’t know what to say.  The nurse and doctor let me sit alone in the exam room for a little while.  I am usually very good at stifling my emotions, but this time I just couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. 

“Why is this happening to me”, I thought.  “I already had to deal with infertility, now I have to deal with miscarriage?”

I have never been so sad or felt so alone.  I truly felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.  I then understood why I had been given so many promptings to take someone with me to my appointment.  I had blatantly ignored those feelings and I had paid the price.  I was even more depressed to find that the box of tissues my doctor had given me only had one tissue in it.  (It’s kind of funny to think about now, but at the time, it was not helping matters.)

I somehow made my way home.  I called The Husband and then lay down on the ground and just cried.

I wanted to be alone and with company all at the same time.  I cried until I had no tears left to shed, and then my body just shook in despair.  Just as I had pulled myself together, I would look, see, hear, think of something (anything) that reminded me of my Angel Baby and I would fall apart all over again.

The Husband quickly came home.  He held me in his arms and just let me cry.

Later that night my mom called and I shared the bad news.  “I had a feeling this was going to happen,” she said, “I know what you’re going through.”  Which was true.  My mom had experienced miscarriage early on in her own pregnancy quest, but hearing that didn’t make me feel any better.

A few days later, I passed the tissue that housed my Angel Baby for those few weeks before I lost him.

I swore to myself I would never get pregnant again.