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.
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