help

Like most of you, the blog is your journal...and I need to vent and/or express some feelings, hoping that I will feel better by doing so. I am great at putting on a smile and going about my day, but wow it's getting harder and harder to do so! I am sad. So, so sad. Scott and I have wanted a family for a long time. Scotty is so good with children--it was one of the "higher up on the list" reasons to why I married this wonderful man; knowing he would be a great father! We have been climbing the infertility ladder for almost 3 years of our 4 years of marriage. After the months and years of oral meds and injections--six months of clomid, three artificial inseminations, and three IVF attempts (feel free to google any of those fun procedures) --we were diagnosed with being the classic case of "unexplained infertility"--um, excuse me isn't that an oxymoron--how can unexplained be a diagnosis? Our third and final attempt at IVF almost cost me my life--hypotensive shock, needing a blood transfusion and a wonderful hospital stay in Vegas--where our specialty doctor is. One of those rare accidents that the doctor cuts your ovary while retrieving eggs, and you bleed for days...talk about insult to injury! However, by some stroke of freakish good luck one of the two embryos implanted, survived and we were pregnant--me, pregnant! What a miracle! Scott started calling the baby Captain America because it had survived such a traumatic introduction! We were elated to say the least and it took quite awhile for it to seem real. We saw the baby at 6 weeks with it's little heart-a-beating! At almost eight weeks I heard the heart beat--I do ultrasound of the heart and have access to an ultrasound machine daily and was looking at it all the time! Watching its daily growth--how lucky was I? We were thrilled to hear the beat of its little heart knowing that once you hear its heart beat, you have a less than 5% chance of miscarriage. I went in for a regular check up (I had been seeing the chief of fetal and maternal medicine at the U because of a number of high-risk issues). I went by myself because of course it was going to be "routine." As the ultrasound technician began I was looking for the heart and arms and such and wasn't getting a clear picture. I had a hard time seeing the heart but was relying on the technician...because I know just enough to be dangerous--when it comes to hearts, I'm very confident, but babies...not so sure. The technician looked concerned (I give that look all the time to my patients) and I instantly was sickened! I said "You don't see a heartbeat do you?" and she said, "No." Hmmmm, "no"--what exactly does that mean? And then the numbness set in. A doctor came in to look, another technician, etc. I laid there thinking to myself the obvious--"they have to be kidding" realizing who would kid about something like this right? I was left alone while the doctors conferred with each other. While I was alone, I instantly called for help, by starting a prayer saying "Heavenly Father..." I couldn't even get past that before I felt a warm presence as if to say "I'm already here." I just kept repeating, "don't leave me, don't leave me." I called Scott and the trauma began to sink in as I had to say the words..."our baby is not alive," "we miscarried," "there is no heartbeat," "I think I just lost the baby," etc. how does one put that into words without needing a straight jacket? I am sure that other people miscarry--every day--but to me it seemed, I was the first to have ever felt this way and my world had just ended. I felt like our last and final hope and chance was no longer. We can't just "try again." It was science that had us conceive. And the preparation for IVF is horrendously painful and expensive beyond explanation, and after the last time of literally hanging on to my own life, it's completely out of the question to try IVF again. That was it! That was our one shot! There seems like nothing worse than the feeling of no hope! The doctor at the U was actually great through this whole thing, as was his nursing staff. With it being three days before Christmas, Dr. Silver said he was leaving town the next day, but was not going to let me carry around a dead baby over the holidays. Those were some harsh words, yet I appreciated him fitting me into his schedule and having a D and C that day. A D and C is a procedure done under conscious sedation where they pretty much just suck the baby out of your uterus, while you listen to the suction and watch the tissue and blood go through a tube into a sac. The procedure itself, doesn't take very long...but the memories of it, however, will last forever! I had driven up myself that morning and you can't drive yourself home after this procedure ,so Scott was getting out of work but we needed a ride for him so he could drive me home as to not have two cars up at the hospital. There was no question in my mind of who would drop everything and drive Scott up to the U. Of course it was my sister--who literally dropped her kids (thanks Deron), left in the middle of her shower, etc. to drive Scotty up. I also wanted her to stay with us I needed someone who could field all the questions from family and friends and I just wanted her there! While I waited for them to arrive, I called the only two people I knew who have been through something like this and would understand. Shellie and Wendy. I am so grateful they both picked up their phones. I needed them so desperately! They were so sensitive and both cried with me and were angry with me! I needed them while I waited for Scott and Melinda, because I was slowly losing it and having them talk me through it was beyond helpful! It was a blessing to know they knew precisely what I was going through. When Scott and Melinda finally got to me, I told them I needed Scott's arms and Melinda's words! I am complete when I have those two with me :) Melinda had the perfect words to say--which really weren't anything other than, "ya, this sucks", while Scott just had his big arms around me and let me cry! Melinda has a lot of sympathy and empathy and knows just how to talk to me! Scott of course is my rock and was able to be in on the procedure and help me. They dilate your cervix to a ten in order to retrieve the little fetus...and that was a blast...to those of you who have "dilated" :) and had children...good gosh, bless you! I thought I was going to lose it! I'm glad I had Scott there who talked about our favorite beaches and places to visit while I wanted to just slip into a coma and die! And that was it...we were done and could go home. Home, to find ultrasound pictures taped to the back of the door, and Christmas cards in the mail to congratulate us on the miracle, and little clothes laid out and little stuffed animals people had given us because of their excitement for us. All to be put away, never planning on ever getting them back out. I know that other people have miscarriages and move on, but I feel like we have spent three years in trying to get this far and have now fallen from a very high plateau. I know it's better that it happened now and not later, or that I didn't have a stillborn, or hey at least we conceived, etc. I know all that...and yet somehow it doesn't help at all. There are no comments to be made to heal this--only time, and yet even that, this experience will never be forgotten. I am so grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ which, at a time like this, gives me direction, and reminds me that I have a Friend who understands all pains and is acquainted with many griefs! But here I sit 13 days later still hurting. I think it is getting less and less, but I ache. I want my baby back and nothing is filling that void.