Thursday, September 02, 2010

2 September

I woke up early - maybe 5:30. Not sure but it was dark still. I hopped to the bathroom, flipped the light and looked down. Bright red blood gushing out of me.

I called Stef and told him. "bright red is bad, the book said so."

He called our antenatal teacher. She told him to get me to the hospital.

Still firmly in denial I argued that I should eat first (???) but he was havibg none of it.

On the way there I put on an adrenaline pumping song - dance, dance by fall out boy. I was still weirdly chipper.

Went to the plett mediclinic through to the maternity ward. The sisters were too nice. They were stalling. I started to feel nervous. The midwife arrived. She was far too nice. Trying to find baby's heartbeat but nothing. From that first attempt i think i knew. Then she thought she may have.

My mouth was bone dry. No water for me in case they had to do a Caesar.

The obgyn arrived. Hooked up the sonar. Politely, almost educationally as if I was a student there to learn she pointed and said "this is where we would expect to see the heartbeat but you can see there is no movement".

The doctors version of "your baby is dead. Your life will never ever be the same."

A million thoughts go through your head in that moment - for one the absolute bittersweetness of having what I already knew confirmed: I was carrying a little girl - as I knew I was -I had dreamt of her so often. The feeling of "naturally this would happen. It was all too good to be true. The bubble was bound to burst", the feeling of "thank God for Stef. Thank God I have him in my life and we will go through this together".

I wanted to tell my dad. I think he was the only person I actually told - after that day the whole world seemed to know.

"Dad, they say my baby's dead."

I can't remember what he said except that they'd leave EL straight away and be in plett asap.

The doctor urged me to have a Caesar. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. She agreed to try the induction but as soon as she felt any risk she'd do a Caesar.

The midwife understood and was determined to help me go natural. In retrospect it was as if they were unintentionally playing good cop bad cop and giving me something to focus on and work towards.

I remember the midwife hugging me and telling me "don't worry - I won't leave you. I'm not going anywhere." I remember thinking how futile that was and yet appreciating that that was the one thing this woman could do for me in this darkest hour and being deeply touched.

They started with the induction drips and the midwife used every other natural method she could think of from massaging reflexology points on my ankles to giving me natural medicines.

Once my folks arrived my dad walked me up and down the hospital hallway late into that night, steering my drip a we walked.

I'm not sure if they drugged me but in spite of the contractions I slept that night.

9 comments:

Lipgloss said...

oh dear God; reading this left me breathlessly sad. I can only imagine your loss.

Gina said...

(((((((((((((((HUGE HUGE HUG)))))))))))))))

Maddie said...

Huge hugs. xx

Kristen said...

many tears flowing for you tonight, I can't imagine your pain. Much love and many hugs are being sent your way tonight

Lynda Halliger-Otvos said...

i am so sorry; feel the hugs.

Tara said...

You know that we are all here for you. You've been constantly in my thoughts the last few days. Much love to all of you.

cassey said...

many, many hugs

Sharon said...

This is so sad and so unfair. Why do these things happen to good people? Why does God allow it to happen? I'm sad and I have no words of comfort - what can anyone say? I'm sad, sad for you and sad for Sophia, sad because it is so darn unfair. xxx

Angel said...

My heart is in my throat Caz.