Saying Goodbye to Baby J.
It didn’t come as a total shock, because I knew something wasn’t quite right. I just *knew*. I don’t know why or how, but I wrote before about how I felt totally unattached from this pregnancy, I couldn’t imagine it resulting in a baby in July. But of course no pregnant woman wants to think about that, so aside from stressing over it a little I tried to put it out of my head.
My belly seemed to be still growing, my organs were getting pushed up. We went to an OB’s office the day before he died, and I was shocked when they found a strong heart beat right away, up on the left side just above my waist line.
But there was more red bleeding that night and the next morning. My stomach started to feel…empty. And that morning when I got up, my belly was flat.
Rosie and I went to the ER while Tyler was at work. There was no one else in the waiting room. Since I had Rosie with me, they put us in a pediatric room with fire trucks and dalmations on the walls. Rosie was so excited, she struck up conversations with everyone we saw. The doctor was very stern. She was the only person who completely ignored Rosie. The first thing she said was that bleeding usually means you are having a miscarriage. Then she left and sent in a nurse to take my blood. That nurse was so sweet and friendly. She was also great at drawing blood, I didn’t feel a thing and I don’t even have a bruise or a mark. Usually I have a huge bruise.
After they drew the blood Rosie and I had to wait alone for half an hour, then an ultrasound tech came and pushed us on the bed to another part of the hospital. Rosie thought riding on the bed was the greatest thing she’d ever done in her life, she was waving to people we passed as if she was on a parade float or something.
The ultrasound was horrible. I wasn’t allowed to see the screen, and the tech (though she was very nice) did it in total silence and told me she wasn’t allowed to say anything about what she saw. The vaginal ultrasound really hurt, and it lasted for 30 minutes. My medical file must have very detailed images of all of my internal girly parts.
I could tell by the look on her face that there wasn’t anything good to see, but I do wish I’d gotten to see anyway.
We got wheeled back to our kid room after that, and Rosie and I waited for 45 minutes.
Finally the stern doctor came in, and she said that the baby had stopped developing around 8 weeks and that there was no fetal heart tones today. Then she asked if I had any questions, I said no, and she left.
He hung out for an entire month, safe and warm in my belly. I’m so thankful we got that extra month to enjoy his presence, even if he wasn’t growing and changing like he should have, his heart was beating and he was most definitely there. Now I’m glad I didn’t have any ultrasounds because this way I got to have him without distraction or the great distress I would have had knowing for certain something was wrong. I had intuition to prepare myself, but intuition is gentle.
Rosie didn’t want to leave the hospital and the fun rolling bed, so I had to wrestle her coat onto her and carry her all the way through the maze of halls and the crowded parking lot screaming and kicking while everyone stared. I wasn’t in the mood to reason with her.
When we got home, I explained to her that baby brother wasn’t in my belly anymore. He went bye-bye like Poudan, her beloved pet chicken. She understands what it means when something dies, after all of our chicken deaths. She took Poudan’s death really hard. She may only be two and a half, but she’s very perceptive and understands things on a deeper level than you would expect. That’s just how she is and always has been. She sobbed sadly for two hours straight, she was beyond disappointed that baby brother had to leave us.
Tyler was heart broken. He was leaving work to meet us at the ER but I called and told him we were on the way home, so he turned around and came in the door a few seconds after Rosie and I did.
I laid in bed for awhile. Rosie came and laid with me. She stroked my cheek and told me, “Don’t cry Momma. Don’t cry. I not leave like baby brother, I stay wif you. I not leave.”
Yesterday Tyler took her over to my in-law’s house. He had to help my FIL move a big piece of furniture before it got rained on out in his truck. Rosie climbed up in my MIL’s lap and stroked her face and told her, “It’s ok Gia. Baby brother had to go bye-bye but he’ll come back soon. Don’t worry. He be back soon in Momma’s belly.”
And you know, I am certain Rosie is right. I feel sure that in the future this baby will be back, when the time is right. Something must have changed in our future path, it was no longer the right time for him to come be with us. One day though, it will be the right time and he will come, and he will stay. Knowing this doesn’t stop me from missing him, from worrying that he’s safe and happy wherever he is now, that he’s alright without me to take care of him. it still hurts to know that the baby we were all so looking forward to won’t be in our arms in a few months. But it’s ok, because I know it’s not a forever goodbye. His arrival has just been delayed, due to reasons out of our control, reasons we may never know but reasons we have to trust are valid.
So now, this is the hard part. The waiting. Waiting for what’s left of the warm home he inhabited for 12 weeks to exit my body. Waiting to be sure my body will fully let go so that we can move on, physically and emotionally. Waiting to see if his tiny body will emerge, or if it will have been absorbed. Waiting. Waiting a few months so we can start over, waiting to see when fate will determine is the right time for this baby to return Earthside.
I’ve had bleeding, but nothing heavy. This is just like a period. I had some bad cramps last night and a few tiny clots, one thing that was the size of a grain of rice with a string. That might have been the babe, I don’t know. Today I am cramp free and just have light bleeding, like the first day of a period. I hope that my body is able to flush everything out. I’m scared it won’t. If it doesn’t, I’ll go to the herbalist and take some scary evicting herbs, but I really don’t want that to happen. I want it to be as peaceful as possible, and to be over as quickly as possible.