Rebuilding Myself

This week was hard, really hard.  Perhaps shock allowed for a numbness the first week or so, I am not sure, but regardless, it has been tough.

Yesterday, I got the most amazing surprise.  One of my dear friends stopped in for an afternoon visit.  Three months ago, this would have been common.  However, since moving over 6 hours from our former home, stop in visits are very rare   In fact, non-existent. 

We have had many overnight visitors, and while each visit has been wonderful, I have found each very taxing.  Hosting people for extended stays just takes a lot of energy.

This however was so different.  She is one of the few people who knew about Bug, and after hearing about my series of difficult days she packed up and drove the 6 hours just to stop by for a few hours.  Knowing anymore would be daunting for me, she picked me up, took for me lunch and enjoyed the afternoon with me before heading home.

Honestly, it was amazing, and just what I needed.  There is no way I could find the words to thank you … my tears probably said it well though

No other words today … feeling a bit down and frustrated.

I think I must be masochistic.  I find myself obsessively checking the blogs of friends about to give birth, even though I know as soon as there is news I will bawl my eyes out (as evidenced by the 2 in the last week who have already had there babies).

Seriously, you would think I would at least know to avoid their blogs right now but no, at least twice a day I visit.  <sigh> must gain self-control.

On to other things.  Physically I am doing wonderful after the D&C.  Emotionally, still a little numb.  We are definitely moving forward, but at least a couple times a day I break down thinking about the “what could have been”.

Mostly, I am now dreading the twins’ birth/death day anniversary coming up in November.  I didn’t imagine a year ago that I would have to face it without being pregnant again …

I finally got in for the D&C yesterday and overall, it was a giant relief.  To be on edge waiting all week was draining, very draining.  It feels like we can now finally begin to move through the process, instead of being stalled in the shock of another loss.

In one of my comments (again, thank you so much for all the support, it has meant so much to me the last week), someone mentioned Bedside Manners 101, and the need for medical staff to go through something like that.  I have another one for the books …

While waiting in recovery, I was given several sheets to bring home with me.  One was titled “The Future”.  I was floored by the next line – “What to Expect After Your Abortion”.  The term was used throughout the rest of the sheet. 

I understand that is the clinical term for what I went through, but really, would it be so hard to have one sheet where the wording is changed for those who have experienced a loss, those who have not made the choice to terminate?

I tried to voice my concerns to the nurses, not quite sure how it went.  The anesthetic was definitely still strong and our conversation was punctuated by inappropriate anesthetic-induced giggling on my end.  I hope she still understood and maybe, just maybe they will change it for the next time.

Still waiting to hear on our D&C date right now, the wonders of a small town … should be in the next couple days, but they have to track down the anesthesiologist first.  Essentially I am on call, waiting for the phone call.  Not fun.

Had another ultrasound yesterday just to make sure.  After meeting with the doctor she explained that it was actually a blighted ovum.  In her attempt to make us feel better, she explained that meant the pregnancy was “not real”.  I understand what she was trying to do, but I am not sure how it makes me feel.  On one hand, relief … there is no baby to grieve.  But on the other, I am still feeling such extreme loss – there was still a pregnancy of sorts, everything but the baby, and for 5 weeks we believed in Bug and the hope of a baby.  To hear that Bug was just a sac is a relief and hard all at the same time.

For all your kind words and thoughts.  It honestly means so much.  This weekend has been a bit of a painful blur as we are trying to deal with the reality of another baby lost.  Especially in light of the fact that my body seems determined to continue to carry this little one … hard to tell yourself you aren’t pregnant when still dealing with a ton of symtoms.

We are heading to meet with the doctor this morning, hopefully to plan a D&C soon.  I know it is bad, but I just want this to be over now.

It wasn’t good.  There was no heartbeat.

We are devastated.  Meeting with my doctor on Monday to schedule a D&C if things haven’t started on their own before then.  Feeling numb right now. 

Good bye Bug.  We loved you.

This will be brief.  Tomorrow is my first ultrasound … thoughts and prayers would be much appreciated. 

The last ultrasound we had was Hallowe’en of last year, and there were two healthy baby girls moving around the screen.  It was also at that ultrasound that we heard the words TTTS for the first time.  Two weeks later our girls were gone.

Needless to say, I am a little nervous about tomorrow.

… is a funny thing.  One minute it rushes by like water through your fingers, the next it is like a brick wall, imobile and daunting in its solid determination not to shift.

Since November, I have felt as though time has stalled for me.  While the world rushed around me, I was in a box, isolated in a world that refused to move.  I have felt like an outsider, knowing in my head that time must be passing, but feeling as though time was mocking me, refusing to budge, laughing at my desire to have it pass.

Today I felt as though my box broke, and all of a sudden I realized that time had slipped through my fingers.  Standing in line waiting for my morning coffee it hit me.  If we hadn’t lost the girls, Avery and Sophie would be at least five months old.  Such a simple thought, but such a profound result on me. 

Time has passed.  Although I have felt as though it stood still, somehow 10 months passed.  At first I felt panicky at the thought.  Somehow, letting time pass without a fight seemed like giving in, like I wasn’t honouring our girls.  But yet, I know that isn’t true.  They wouldn’t want me to dig my heels in and refuse to acknowledge time’s passing.  They would want me to enjoy each minute, remembering them but knowing I must continue to move on.  And so I will.

I thought I was doing well.  When the few people who know about Bug have asked, I have confidently told them that I am doing well.  Mostly ignoring the little life inside of me to protect myself, but managing fear well.

I was wrong, so wrong.  I didn’t realize it until the weekend.  DH and I were out for a run/rollerblade (he runs, I blade … my running is non-existent) and I fell.  Not bad, just enough to bruise my tailbone and my pride.

But I lost it, completely and totally.  Everything I had been pushing down inside bubbled up and made it’s way out in a torrent of tears, snot, and heaving sobs.  It was ugly.  Poor husband, he just sat there patting my back, trying to avoid the stares of everyone passing us on the trail.

Not until afterwards, much later in the evening in fact, could I explain what happened.  All the stress, anxiety, and fear over Bug have been rolling inside of me, where I try not to acknowledge them or let them come out. 

Only 32 weeks left.  Grow Bug Grow.