A very hard week

This normally isn't something I would put as a blog entry, but there are enough of you that I want to tell that I felt this was the easiest way to do it. Plus, I feel like I need to write about it while it's fresh in my mind. I'll try not to make it too graphic, but I do want to tell it as it was.

Tuesday afternoon I went in for my normal 12-week doctor apt. assuming everything was fine. She was unable to find the heartbeat but assured me that sometimes happens and we should just go to ultrasound and have a look. Unfortunately the ultrasound showed that the baby had died several weeks ago. Of course that was something I wasn't prepared to hear. She explained my options of continuing to wait and see if my body will recognize what happened and take care of it on it's own, getting a prescription to speed that process along, or scheduling to have a D and C. With Brooke crying for more fruit snacks and to go home and with me crying I couldn't think straight so just went home to decide. I think I really didn't believe it since I still felt and looked so pregnant. And life just continues: kids have activities, therapists still come, dinner has to be made. When something like this happens, you think life should just stop, but it doesn't.

I decided Wednesday night to take the medicine to start the cramping and the whole process along, thinking that taking care of it at home would be the easiest thing. The bleeding started about 2:00 in the morning. For the first several hours I could handle it and still felt alright. Barr is such a good sleeper that he was unaware of what was going on. He left to go swim at 5:00, but I was in the bathroom so didn't know. By 5:30 I had taken a turn for the worse. I had lost so much blood that I was getting really weak. I would break into sweats and be drenched in minutes to then get the chills. I was too dizzy to stand and making it to the bathroom and back was one of the hardest things I've done. When Ben came in I asked him to try and call Barr to come home. Sweet Ben left 11 messages on Barr's phone! Either he didn't realize it was turned off, or was just in too much of a panic to know what else to do.

The next several hours are kind of a blur. I was too weak to move, not even being able to lift my head or an arm, but knew that every 30 minutes or so I had to get to the bathroom, I was just passing way too much blood and clots. Barr would carry me there, but sitting on the toilet would make me pass out. What a trooper to hold my body up with one arm so that I wouldn't fall on the floor, and do what he had to do with the other. I won't get too gross here, but I will say I am so grateful for a strong man physically that can hold me up so well and one that loves me enough to help me through this! He would then carry me back to bed where a few minutes later I would come to. He was getting scared after about the 6th time of watching my eyes roll to the back of my head and me going into convulsions before going limp. A few times he said I stopped breathing and would be completely white. He called my doctor who said to go to the ER. He didn't know how he was going to get me down the stairs and the thought of trying to sit in a car seemed impossible to me so he called 911 for an ambulance. It's too bad the kids were at school and missed the excitement! Barr picked up Brooke early and a wonderful friend from church, Teri Robertson, came to our home to stay with her. Brooke is still very scared of going to other people's homes or being around people she's not used to, but Teri plays with her every Sunday in nursery so Brooke was fine.

When the paramedics came they took my vitals and when they said something about blood pressure being 70 something over 40, they seemed to get a little anxious. They made two unsuccessful attempts at starting an IV with me in bed (I thank my grandmother for my weak veins) so just decided to get me into the ambulance. A firetruck brought some type of chair in to get me down the steps. I wish I had had enough energy to laugh because one of the paramedics kept calling me "nice lady". He would say, "Nice lady, now we're going to move you to the stretcher. Nice lady, now you're going to feel a sting. Nice lady, can you tell me your birthday?" etc...Barr followed us to the hospital where they spent the next few hours running tests, giving me lots of fluids and a blood transfusion. They finally decided that part of the placenta was still attached to the uterus wall and would require a D and C to remove it. Once it was all clean, the uterus should start to heal and the bleeding should slow.

The surgery was the easiest part of the whole process. Looking back, I should have just had that done from the beginning, but who knew? I was just so glad that my head didn't feel like I was in a tornado anymore and I was able to move again. It wasn't until the post-op nurse took my hand and told me she was sorry for our loss that the emotional part of the experience hit me. I was finally done with the physical pain and was able to feel the emotional loss. We are home now and healing well.

On Tuesday and Wednesday Brooke kept saying, "Mommy sad Baby died" and would run her finger down her cheek. She doesn't understand that there was a baby nor does she know what "died" means, but she knows that I don't cry very often. Now she keeps repeating "Mommy sick" over and over again. I'm sure she'll soon be able to say, "Mommy happy" and in the future, "Mommy baby" again.

We feel very loved with the emails, phone call, prayers, and food that has been shared with us. Thank you for your love and support.