Therapy at my fingertips

Last month, I wrote about the painful loss of my mid-term pregnancy 8 years ago. Since posting it, I've been thinking about this more often than normal. I suppose since OTJ's nomination, I've been checking back to see if there are comments from any new bloggers. Each time I scroll through my entries and finally arrive at that one, I re-read the post- each time trying to analyze if it captures the essence of what we went through. I've been feeling like it's not the whole story of that emotionally-intense time of our lives. So, partly to better explain the full story, and partly because this is therapeutic for me, I am going to continue on. Some of this will be hard to write, hard to read, and I'm certain not everyone will understand my feelings and/or opinions on some of this.

KF-this is one of those Godly intervention things similar to what you blogged about on Friday.

The date was April 22nd, 1998. Since I was going to be 35 when I would have delivered, my normal OB gave me the choice between having an amniocentesis or a Level ll ultrasound. Not wanting to chance the risks involved with the amnio, I opted for the Level ll ultrasound. I had to go to a special facility to have this done. It was at this visit that we found out that the baby hadn't survived. I dealt with a doctor different than my usual OB for the ultrasound and following procedure to remove the lifeless fetus. I have never since been in that facility, the hospital where the next day's procedure was performed, nor have I ever again had to deal with that doctor. It's as if that whole event has been plucked out of my life - thankfully.

Following the tragic news, we were brought into the doctor's office to discuss what was to happen the next day. This was not a miscarriage but a stillbirth, and wouldn't be handled with the usual D&C, but with what's called a D&E, or essentially what a woman goes through when she has a late-term abortion. I concentrated on the fact that I would be sedated in a twilight sleep with an additional drug to make me not remember anything that happened in the OR. I was grieving and frightened.

The morning of the procedure, I stood naked in front of the shower. I put my hands on my stomach, said a prayer, said my goodbye, and told the baby that I would see them someday in Heaven. Then I tried to focus on moving forward.

I arrived at the hospital and was taken to the pre-op area where I was placed in a bed with nothing but curtains separating myself from the other women also waiting in pre-op. TMS had to stay out in the waiting area and, for what seemed like an eternity, I sat in bed crying in disbelief. I was consumed with disbelief. While I cried and cried, I could hear some of the other women casually talking on the cell phones or to their doctors. I was thinking to myself, "They must be here by choice. How could they choose to have this done when I had no choice?" I was very upset and scared.

Fast forward to my next pregnancy. I again chose to have a Level ll ultrasound over an amnio, this time at the hospital, and again with a doctor other than my own. The date, coincidentally, was April 22, 1999. I was only 9 weeks along, but my kind doctor wanted to reassure me that this time, everything was expected to go along just fine. When the technician detected the heartbeat, I was crying so hard I was literally gasping for air. I just couldn't stop. Not knowing why TMS and I were so emotional, she finally said to me, "If you don't stop crying, I won't be able to continue."

At my 20-week ultrasound, I had to go to yet another hospital and see another doctor. He took TMS and I through the usual explanation of what was what on the screen. When he finished up, he handed me a cloth to wipe off the gel on my abdomen and told me to sit up, that he had something to talk to us about. I swear, I was about to throw up. He said that our baby had a cyst in it's brain. It was probably nothing. Then again, these cysts can sometimes indicate a bigger problem such as Trisomy 21 (Down's syndrome) or Trisomy 18. Was I really hearing this again? Trisomy? I couldn't believe that TMS and I never got genetic testing. I began to think that there must be something in our make-up that makes us genetically incompatible. After the doctor's lengthy explanation, I asked, "How worried should we be?" His response was, "I just explained all that to you." Nice bedside manner.

The following day, I had my usual monthly exam at my OB's office. She has a wonderful nurse who is very kind and nurturing. When this nurse called me in from the waiting area, she said to me (in front of all the other women who were still waiting), "Well? How did it go?"

"I'll tell you when I get in" I said, and again, I was forcing back the lump caught in my throat.

At this time, I was still trying to maintain a level head about the situation. The doctor had said that it may be nothing. However, all the level-headedness when out the window when I told the nurse what was going on. Her reaction made me really scared. She hugged me and said, "I hate that you have to go through this again." Oh my God, she had said "go through this again" - this was going to be bad. When I told my doctor what was going on with the cysts in the baby's brain, she left the room, made a phone call, came back in and told me that she had scheduled an amniocentesis for noon that same day. At that point I was really frightened. I drove home to meet TMS at the house and we drove to the hospital for the procedure.

Within the first day or two following this latest development in the pregnancy, TMS and I searched the internet for any information we could find. In those days there wasn't all that much. TMS had found a chat room supporting those with questions about CPCs (the cysts). He found it very reassuring and called home to tell me that I should look it up. I got the information wrong and ended up on a web site about Trisomy 18. I will never, ever, forget how I felt that day. Trisomy 18 is a devastating chromosome abnormality. This web site had story after story from mothers whose babies had died due to the anomaly. As I read on, I learned that most babies with Trisomy 18 die before 3 months of age. Almost all of those that make it past three months die before one year of age. In addition to that, their life is filled with severe physical deformities and complications. I went up to my bedroom, buried my head in my pillow and let all the fear come to the surface. I was literally moaning and pounding my fists in grief and worry. The two-week wait to find out if our baby had this was absolutely unbearable.

During those two weeks, TMS and I silently contemplated our choices if the worst we could imagine would turn out to be a reality. We never discussed these options openly with one another. I think it was just too ugly a scenario to talk about. I prayed and prayed. My prayers got more and more intense as each day, I dreaded what the outcome would be. I ended up praying to God to let our child just have Down's syndrome-anything but Trisomy 18. At least with a Down's baby you can have a fulfilling life. Ultimately, I prayed over and over that God spare me the agony of having to decide what choice to make. I think that TMS and I would have decided to abort the pregnancy. I couldn't imagine going through that, allowing the child to go through their short life like that, nor could I imagine subjecting our 2 year-old to an experience like that. Aborting seemed the more humane option. I was filled with guilt over the thought that just one year ago, I had laid in that pre-op room judging others who had possibly chosen to end their baby's life, and that now, here I was thinking about doing the exact same thing. Again, I just prayed over and over that God not make us have to make a decision.

Finally, after waiting two full weeks (and an extra 2 days)*, I called my doctors office. I got the nice nurse on the phone who told me that, no, they hadn't received the results yet. She said, being Friday, she, herself, couldn't wait until Monday to know. She told me she was going to track down the results and call me right back. I truly can't explain the emotions of hearing the phone ring knowing it was her on the other end calling with the results. She told me that the results came back NORMAL. I could barely blurt out "thanks" with all the emotion caught in my throat. Crying, I called TMS to tell him the news. Rather than feeling the relief you'd expect, I felt guilty that all those other families that I had read about on the Trisomy 18 web site hadn't gotten the good news that we had. In fact, I never fully let my guard down until I finally saw my newborn baby boy in the delivery room. I think I had so braced myself for the worst that I couldn't let that go.

We knew we couldn't put ourselves through any worry like that again and gave up on the idea of ever having another baby. We had been blessed with two beautiful, healthy gifts from God.

I have learned a lot from those two rough years.

I've learned never to judge someone else's choice. You never know the circumstances under which they made that choice. Their decision isn't one for society to judge but for them to deal with along with their own beliefs and relationship with God.

I've learned that having gone through a tragedy like ours, you form an unbreakable bond with your spouse. Besides you, he is the only person on earth who has gone through this experience firsthand.

I've learned to be nice to strangers. You never know what's happening in their personal lives. Even when you encounter a "meanie", be nice. It just may help them in some way.

I've learned to have compassion and to offer whatever I can to help ease a friend's pain.

I believe that having gone through all that we did, I came out the other end a better person.



* The results were supposed to be ready in two weeks. Not being able to wait any longer, I called one day early. They weren't in yet. I called each day for the next few days, each day being unbearably long. The results came in late by two days and probably would've been later had it not been for the wonderful nurse tracking them down.