miscarriage: Part Two

Since tonight marks the end of the old year, I figure I might as well share the second part to my miscarriage and be done with some of the emotional turmoil I have been carrying around.  It has been a long process because for days and even weeks after the miscarriage I felt as if I couldn’t mourn for the baby and deal with those emotions because we were still trying to deal with everything from the fire.  Every free second went to trying to search for items to be saved, inventory, and insurance.  I knew if I focused on the feelings of loss from the miscarriage I would shut down emotionally and physically and no one in my family could afford that.  Although we had help from others Josh and I were leaning on each other, so we were only as strong as the other and if I collapsed I knew he would too.  Not to mention Dorian had started showing signs of anxiety he had never shown before such as moodiness as well as a new attachment to a blanket and other little behavioral issues that had me worried about him.  My mom let me know it was perfectly natural for him to show these signs with all he had been through as well as to remember that the kid fed off my emotions.  If I was already adding to my child’s distress how could I deal with more than I was already dealing with?  I decided instead to ignore my loss for the time being.

Unfortunately, that is not something that can be ignored easily.  I tried to follow the chaotic pace we had fallen into before the miscarriage, but my body lagged in a way that deceived me.  I had given birth; my body didn’t know my body would not need it to nurse or care for a new infant and since I had not dealt with the emotions I still felt pregnant.  My belly was still bloated and round and my breast were still engorged and tender.  My mood swings were everywhere and I felt that the fatigue had me crawling on the floor by the end of the day.  No different than being pregnant right?  My clothes remained tight on my body and so I ignored the loss until quiet moments of reality hit me with a sobering quickness. More than once I had been sitting down and noticed my ample belly and placed a protective hand on it to caress it before I realized I was no longer caressing a growing child.  It also didn’t help my emotions or my state of mind when the only clothes I owned had been donated to me right after the fire, which meant all I had was maternity clothes. 

Reality continued to creep into my suppressed illusions when I would watch Dorian play and have to remind myself that I would no longer have to worry about fitting a crib into the same room.  I would no longer have to replace baby items.  The truth stung and I realized the poison my habits of disregard had turned into.  I was really impressed with the hospital I had delivered at though because they had given us a book before we left that included pictures of out child as well as other information.  When I could no longer ignore reality, I turned to that book and it was like a bible to me as I turned through the pages multiple times a day searching for answers.  All I ever found though was love and loss and I tried to understand the purpose.

Two and a half weeks after the miscarriage we met again with the doctor to find out that the baby had a chromosome deficiency, which when tested revealed to be Down syndrome. The doctor assured us that the way his body was developing it really was better off for him to perish the way he had and although it had been difficult, had he made it to birth he wouldn’t have lasted long afterwards. Josh and I kept telling this piece of information to the other as if saying it enough times would convince us that death was the better option.  I reviewed my entire pregnancy in my head over and over and would remember the time I had thought that maybe I couldn’t raise two kids, maybe this wasn’t the right time for another kid and I felt guilt for such thoughts as these thoughts alone had willed my premature child’s death.  It has taken some time, but I now believe that was God’s way of preparing me for what was to come.  I know I still have not dealt with the loss completely.  Even here on vacation I remember thinking while on the beach that I was twenty weeks pregnant because that how far along I should have been.  I think this still means I have emotions to deal with, especially when I can pick out all the pregnant women in the room within the first minute; obviously, it is still in my heart and on my mind.  On that note though I know all that has happened has been part of God’s plan and Josh and I plan on trying again as soon as it is deemed safe to do so after my body heals and we have healed emotionally.  Weather it takes two months or three years again we know we are meant to add to our family and we plan to do so.  Thanks for all the support and thanks to all who read my convoluted thoughts and emotions.  I love you all!

Intimacy

Earlier this morning my husband and I had made plans to be intimate with one another later on in the evening.  Since the miscarriage we had to practice abstinence until my body healed and although we have been together a couple times since the traumatic event, to me it is still new, cautious and emotional.  It is because of all of these things that I was looking forward to our encounter so much.  So when evening rolled around and my husband was too tired and emotionally drained, I was frustrated.  He could sense my change in mood and apologized for making me angry.  I let him know I wasn’t angry, I was disappointed.  I could tell my husband was flustered with my strong reverie of solitude and he tried to offer me intimacy through cuddling.  I knew he was trying to reach out to me, but this only further my aggravation, which made me question why I was feeling so rejected and hurt.

For those who don’t know, seven years ago I broke my back and due to this injury I now have four pounds of metal in my spine that still causes me great pain and even limits some of my activities.  Due to this handicap along with my PCOS and other small ailments I already feel broken. And then, the miscarriage.  I realized I was feeling as if my body was essentially out if order and I needed it to have a purpose since it already can’t do so many things.  Since I am having such a hard time loving my extra supple rolls and super tender breast, I needed someone else to love them.  Since my body is no longer carrying our child I wanted it to have a purpose, even if that purpose was pleasuring my husband.  Of course as I worked all this out in my mind I realized that these were real and genuine emotions, but the thought process and ensuing actions were uncharacteristic and somewhat juvenile. 

After talking through these emotions with Josh I cried because even in the simple act of being okay with myself, I find the hurting emotions of the miscarriage creeping into my perception.  Despite trying to work through every thought, every hormonal, emotional outburst, I still feel as if I am pregnant, or should be.  How can I deal with this loss when my body thinks I delivered a baby?  My breast are engorged and aching even a month later and my hormones are all over the place because they think I should be breast feeding and I hate that every morning when I get dressed how it reminds me that the now sagging belly is empty and that the engorged breasts are full of milk that will never be drunk and once again I am longing to have my body be part of a different purpose.  Time.  I know.  Time will ease all wounds both the physical changes as well as the emotional ones:

Bleed me a river;

              my heart bleeds in song.

Bleed me a river

              because I’ve been hurting for so long.

Bleed me a river.

Bleed me along.

Bleed me a river,

              until I can sail on.

Something I wrote earlier today as I contemplated on some of these emotions.

Miscarriage: Part One

PLEASE READ: I appreciate the sympathetic words and similar experiences that have been previously shared, but at this point I am writing to deal with the emotions I faced as well as to share with friends and family my experience.  So if you decide to comment please keep in mind that this post will be less uplifting as I work through my feelings but that does not mean I am unaware of God’s plan for me.  I know I will have this child again as we were sealed in the temple and therefore have an eternal family.

Josh and I walked into the doctor’s office half an hour early expecting to wait and were surprised when we were ushered back to the examination room after only having to wait ten minutes.  After all the trauma we had been through it was nice to finally have something go our way even if it was something as trivial as an appointment time.  Josh and I sat in the room exhausted, but giddy with excitement to meet our new baby for the first time via ultra sound.  Usually they perform the first ultra sound at ten weeks, but due to a high quantity of new patients the appointment times were difficult to get.  So here I was at fourteen and a half weeks and although I was disappointed I hadn’t had this opportunity sooner I was excited I was further along hoping I would be able to see more than just the peanut shaped blob that is typical.

              When the nurse walked in we told her about the fire and expressed how anxious we were for the ultra sound to make sure the baby was still healthy and growing.  She shared her sympathies over the loss of our apartment and agreed that seeing the baby would be just what we needed.  When the doctor joined us in the exam room the nurse told her our story and we were touched by their concern and uplifting words as they prepped me.  Josh came to my side and held my hand as she turned the machine on and began searching for the heart beat.  I saw them both looking, but it didn’t take long for the doctor to comment that something didn’t look right and that the child didn’t look developed the way he should be. I felt Josh squeeze my hand, but my heart was already numb.  I waited.  She then continued her examination and I kept waiting for her to turn the monitor on so we could hear the heartbeat, but she never did.  She let us know that she could not find a heartbeat and then showed us the lump that seemed abnormal to her.  She then let me know that this was chromosomal, which meant the child did not die due in result of the fire, stress or anything I did.  I couldn’t feel the tears running down my cheeks, but I knew they were there.  She let us know that she would want to send us to the radiologist so they could determine the age of the baby and to confirm there was no life left in child I carried.  She expressed her sympathies and how this was the last thing we needed as she slipped out of the room to give us time.  I threw myself into Josh’s arms and together we cried for baby we lost. 

              The world seemed to be spinning around me.  Could this be true, was our baby really dead?  It had only been six days since we lost everything that we owned, was it really meant for me to lose this baby as well?  It didn’t seem real to me.  How could I even process all of the loss?  We rode over to the radiologists in silence, hand in hand as our minds raced with what this meant.  I told Josh that after the fire we had been able to stay so positive because we kept telling ourselves that we had each other, but now I felt I could no longer say that because now we had lost someone and it just didn’t seem fair.  How could the Lord take this from us too?  What had I done to deserve such wrath?  But these feelings and thoughts were replaced with numbness and like an automaton I climbed out of the car and walked into the radiologist’s office so they could tell me all over again that my baby was dead.  According to my last period I was fourteen weeks and four days along.  According to the radiologist, the baby was fourteen weeks and two days developed when he passed.  The doctor had made mention that there was nothing I could have done, but I felt guilty because I felt as if I should have at least felt a difference two days ago when my baby died. 

              When we went back to the doctor she informed me that the baby was too developed for a simple DNC and that I would have to deliver my lifeless child. She let us know it would be a long process, but she would do all she could to make it as pain free as possible.  How could something like this be pain free I wondered as we walked to the car again.  We made arrangements for Dorian to stay at a friend’s house overnight so that Josh could be with me at the hospital as support.  Through this all I was still trying to even coupe with reality because this life, this week all seemed surreal as if I had somehow landed the lead role on a soap opera.  Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life, does it?  It took us three and a half years to get pregnant with Dorian due to my severe PCOS; this pregnancy was a miracle in and of itself, so then why would I be granted such a gift to have it taken away from me?  The story of Job kept popping into my head and although I knew my lot was not the same, I still couldn’t help but compare.  Now I felt as if I truly had lost everything.

              Josh and I walked solemnly up to the registration window at the hospital and the receptionist asked where we needed to go.  I let her know we were headed to labor and delivery.  I saw her glance at my belly and ask how far along I was.  I hesitated.  I didn’t want to announce that my baby was dead, so I let her know I was just over fourteen weeks.  She began to tell me that labor and delivery would not see me until I was at least eighteen weeks so I quickly blurted out that I was sent here to deliver my dead baby.  With a quiet, “oh” she began the paperwork.  At first I felt bead for creating an awkward situation, but the more I thought on it the more upset I became.  I hoped she did feel bad for making me state my business. I hoped she felt guilty for making me tell her my child was dead.  These thoughts were all very quiet though and my face remained blank as I watched them put the paper bracelet on my wrist.  The last time I had been at this hospital was when I delivered Dorian and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself at how different the circumstances were.

              Labor and delivery was expecting us and the nurse who got me hooked up to the machines apologized for having to come to the labor unit to do all of this, she seemed very aware that this was the last place in the world I wanted to be.  We began the medication to start the contractions and the waiting began.  After four hours and the second dose, the bleeding began; then the discomfort and the medication.  The hospital was literally spinning around me now, but I still felt numb and empty.  Josh stayed by my side the entire time. Doing whatever he could to make me comfortable.  We talked only briefly about our loss as we both still grabbed desperately at loose ends trying to figure out why everything had gone so wrong.  The nurses asked if we planned on burying the child or if we wanted the hospital to take care of the remains.  Josh and I discussed the matter and since we did not know the gender and since we were already living on donated money we decided to forgo the burial.  When the doctor asked what we had planned she reassured us that we had made a good choice and that our baby would be taken care of.  She then suggested that we had him tested to see what had caused his death.  She said that since it was chromosomal it was worth finding out if this could reoccur in future pregnancies.  Josh and I agreed that the testing would be a good idea. 

              The cramping began to get more severe.  The nurses assured me that I was getting close.  I became sick and started vomiting and all the while my sweet loving husband was there holding my hair back and whispering words of encouragement.  He kept me focused on what I was doing so I wouldn’t feel sorry for myself.  After my second bout of sickness my mouth tasted of death and I asked Josh to retrieve the gum from the car.  Obliging as always, he left to help alleviate my discomfort.  While he was out of the room though I passed the child and my heart bleed because he has missed the birth due to me.  Upon his return though he lovingly reassured me that it was all right and that he was here for the important part.  They then put the baby on a paper towel and let us hold it.  To us he looked like a boy although the nurses cautioned that it might still be a girl.  They left us so we could hold our baby.  So little.  So light.  But we could still see all the fingers and toes and even the eyes and we knew this was our child and would always be our child.  Our stillborn child, baby Borland was born November 17, 2011.

Fire at Paddock Place: Part Two

The very next morning after the fire, both Josh and I were running off of two to three hours of sleep at the most and we had a lot to do.  Our first priority was to be at the apartment at eight thirty when the office opened so we could get information from them as well as look at the damage the fire had done.  Once Josh got back from checking in at work we headed to the apartment.  We tried to remain hopeful, but we both feared the worst.  Josh told me that all the Army offered to help with was an emergency loan, but we both agreed we wanted avoid a loan if possible.  As we pulled up to our building, the memory of the night before came rushing back.  When we opened the car doors we could still smell smoke heavy in the air although the fire had now been out for hours.  The breezeway and roofs were charred black with soot and ash.  We saw maintenance men up on our balcony who assured us it was structurally sound to walk on.  We climbed slowly up the now black and uneven staircase to what used to be our door.  Instead, all that remain was a half melted chunk of metal precariously attached.  Upon first looking into the apartment all we could see was black.  It covered the walls, floors and ceiling and we knew our home was no more.  We walked solemnly into what had just hours before been our home.  The melted ceiling fan and computer bag drew our attention and although there were items in tact we knew there was very little to be saved from the black that now covered our lives.  The smoke was still so thick in the apartment that it made our eyes tear up and made breathing uncomfortable. 

Hungry and emotionally and physically exhausted Josh and I decided to get breakfast off the dollar menu at McDonalds.  While there I called my mom to let her know the items I was in desperate need of (like a bra, shoes and other necessities) so she could send them to us in a package overnight.  As I was getting off the phone with mom I saw a lady get up from her booth and walk over to Josh and whisper something to him as she handed him a piece of paper and walked off.  I asked what she said and he told me that she had overheard my conversation and offered this as a gift.  We looked at the piece of paper to find that it was a check for $50.  Our hearts were warmed and overwhelmed with gratitude.  When we were feeling our lowest here we had a complete stranger reach out to us in sympathy and support.

 We got in touch with our insurance and filed a claim before we headed to the Red Cross to fill out paper work from the night before.  After waiting close to an hour to be seen we were finally led into an office where they took extra pains to make sure Dorian was entertained and happy.  They gave us vouchers for the Salvation Army as well as a Visa with $240 so that we could buy Dorian a mattress and all the necessities he would need.  We were so grateful to have that money because now that we knew we would have to replace everything it was hard not to become overwhelmed with all that would need to be replaced.  While I was doing paper work, Josh was on the phone with the apartment complex and since they were aware that we had a baby (which none of the other tenants involved in the fire did not) they made us their first priority in trying to find us a new place to stay.  So as soon as we finished at the Red Cross we headed to Ashford Apartments where they let us know they made room for us to stay in a town home for six months!  We knew we were being blessed.  Here it wasn’t even twenty four hours after the fire and we already had a new (and much larger) place to stay.  On top of that the people at the office reached out to us in sympathy and offered us furniture that had been left behind by tenants.

So although our world was in ashes around us (yes, pun intended) we were given the tools we needed to dig ourselves out and start again.  It was now getting late in the day and I had not one, but two friends track us down and stop by with blankets, food, clothes, dishes, personal affects, etc to make sure we  had what we needed to get by.  The day had been chaos, but we had an air mattress to sleep on and a roof over our heads and most of our basic needs were being met.  We were blessed and grateful to have each other and although all of it was overwhelming we knew throughout it all we were blessed.

The next several days followed in a similar chaos, but people continued to reach out to us, blessing our lives with what they offered monetarily but also the support they offered us spiritually and emotionally by showing through their service that we were thought of and loved.  This gave us peace and hope that we would indeed make it through these difficult times and we had a support group to help us through it.  This included my incredible family who filled up a Uhaul with furniture, clothes, toys and other necessities that were home and traveled over 1300 miles to bring it to us.  When my parents arrived I knew we were being taken care of and for the first time in days I was able to let go of some of the stress and worry my body had been holding onto.  They helped me clean my new place so that we had a space to start unpacking what people had donated. 

While my family began to set up stuff at the new place, Josh and I dug through the corpse of our apartment.  Recording every item we own so that we could send in it on our claim to the insurance.  We would have to take breaks every twenty or so minutes to get clean air before we re-entered the cave that was our apartment.  We took pictures of everything and wrote down everything.  Me being pregnant often times cried as I came across sentimental things that I knew were lost and no longer a part of my life anymore.  It broke my heart knowing we had invested so much money on all the bay swings, and toys we had with Dorian knowing now they would never be used again; knowing everything would have to be replaced.  It was hard to deal with all the loss, but through it all we kept telling ourselves that at least we had each other.  Although everything was hectic and emotional we made sure I was not overdoing anything because we wanted to make sure we kept me and the baby inside of me as healthy as possible.

My dad had to get back to work and my mother offered to stay a few more days if I needed it, but I let her know I was feeling more confident about everything and all the help they gave us really put us on our feet again.  I really was feeling that this new start wouldn’t be as difficult as I had thought.  We were hopeful and happy despite it all and the next morning my parents left with hugs and kisses.  We promised to call them in a couple of hours because I had my first ultra sound scheduled for the baby that day which we were all so very excited about.  It gave us all something to look forward to.  Josh and I dropped Dorian off with a friend so we could go to the appointment together.  I am glad it was together because what we were about to face, I could not have done alone.

Humble Christmas

With everything that has been going on in my life I have found it very difficult to get into the Christmas spirit; especially today when we walked through our apartment for the last time.  Upon leaving I have to admit I was feeling sorry for myself, becoming overwhelmed with everything we would have to replace.  We then went to the mall to let Dorian see Santa, and for me the depression seemed to deepen as stores tried to push holiday merchandise; merchandise at this point that we can’t afford.  I was feeling sorry for all that we lost and all that we can’t have.

Josh suggested we go to a nativity exhibit tonight and although I was feeling anti-Christmas, I agreed to go.  While I was looking at all the different pieces I became emotionally overwhelmed with how selfish I was being.  Here in front of me was the perfect example of what everything was about: Jesus was born in the most humble of places and his birthday is celebrated because of the life he lived as well as the eternal life he gave us.  So despite my circumstances I should be thankful for the opportunity the Lord has given us to humble ourselves and thank him not only for my mortal life, but the eternal life he gave me by living his own.

I also remembered that Christmas is also about giving of ourselves and due to our circumstances I felt as though we had not been able to do that, but realized others had been able to do that for us; So to all those who have helped us in any capacity, thank you so much and Merry Christmas.