Friends, I want to talk to you about something not so happy. Sad. Difficult. Heartbreaking. None of these words describe the severity of the hurt and pain in my heart. NONE. But life has a funny way of waking us up from a peaceful sleep and reminding us that it's not always happy. It's real and so damn hard.
Wednesday, February 21 was fine. I got up and got ready for work like any other morning. Nothing significant. I hooked my patients up to their respective machines. A coworker and I had donuts for breakfast. I started taking patients off the machine and getting them ready for the next round. Nothing abnormal. Somewhere after the nine o'clock hour, it all hit the fan. I went to the bathroom and there it was.
Honestly, I thought I would get out of having to go through this. With all the issues at the end of my pregnancy with Kate, Kevin and I came to the conclusion that we were done. It was hard. My biological need to have more children was done. Noah and Kate were my two in a million.
But like any other woman, my heart and head were not on the same page. Logically, I knew it was best to hang up my reproductive abilities. I knew the risk if I became pregnant again. Somewhere between thirty and forty percent. Did you know that if you are pre-eclamptic during pregnancy, each subsequent pregnancy has the risk for developing pre-eclampsia again? That's the scariest thing I've ever heard. I cannot go through that again. I could be sick again. That's not what I'm saying. Not seeing my baby for THIRTY-SIX hours post C-section because of the sickness is what I couldn't go through again. I couldn't leave my bed and she couldn't leave the NICU. It was the hardest thing I have ever done.
Back to Wednesday. There you were in my hand. Sweet little seahorse. I sat in shock. Just complete shock. I didn't even know I was pregnant, so when I started bleeding days before I thought nothing of it. NOTHING. It was surreal. I immediately called Kevin. He answers the phone so happy. "Hey, babe!" He says. All I could say was that I just miscarried our baby. Our baby that I didn't even know was there. His voice hushed. "What can I do?" He says. I was blank.
I left work early thanks to the best coworkers and boss ever! I got home and cried and hugged my husband. I just told him that I was so sorry and I really was. I didn't just lose a baby. My husband lost a baby. My children lost a sibling. Our parents lost a grandchild and our sisters lost a niece or nephew. It wasn't just me. This happened to all of us. I don't know whether that makes me feel better or worse...
I cleaned myself up. I called and talked to my sister and my mama. And I scooped up my sassy Kate and we took a nap. Emotionally drained. Physically hurt. I'll never forget how I felt and still feel. Like dead flowers...I played that Miranda Lambert song in my mind. Exactly how I felt. "I'm driving through a hurricane and all he can say is, 'man, ain't it such a nice day...?'" Miscarriage and infant loss isn't talked about. There isn't enough support for women and families that go through this pain. I am so very lucky. I have a support system who care about and love me. I never felt alone.
Today is better. But, I'll never be over it. There will always be days where hot tears fill my eyes and I see you in my hand. I wonder if you were a boy or a girl. What would you have become? A zoo keeper? A gymnast? Do you prefer Mickey Mouse or Winnie the Pooh? Would you be athletic or more of a book worm? I only know that you are loved and one day we'll meet and I'll know it's you and you'll know it's me. You're looking out for us. And one day, I'll talk to Noah and Kate about it and share with them how much they helped me with my broken heart. How their hugs moved mountains of pain and how their faces helped me push forward.
My heart is so full, yet there's a little space for you there. I believe this was God's way of letting me know that it's okay for me to end my child bearing story. Sometimes there isn't a breakthrough or a beautiful pink bow tied around a happy ending. That's just something I'll have to accept. In time, maybe I will. But I'll always wonder about you...sweet little seahorse...
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