Loss at 21 weeks
On December 19th my husband and I sat in the waiting room of my OBGYN at 730 am for our anatomy scan. We joked about me covering his eyes during the scan because I didn't want to know the sex and he did. By noon that day we had been told that, though the results of the amnio would have to confirm, the doctors think that our baby had a fatal genetic disorder. I fell apart and we had to come to terms with losing our baby. A week later the test that should have taken two days to run finally comes back and says that its not a genetic defect. However that doesn't change the original results. We managed to get another ultrasound the same day to see if they could tell us anything more about what it could be. The prognosis was poor. We sat in several doctors offices and I tried to keep it together as the bad news just piled up one on top of the other. Severely handicapped though the only way to know more was to deliver. They are unsure if additional defects would develop as I come to term. If I even make it that far. The only thing they could confirm is that we were having a girl.
We made the decision to terminate the pregnancy. It's something that on top of everything else we had to decide very quickly. The hospital will only do the procedure up to 21 weeks. And I was on week 19. The best hospital in the area only does it twice a week and we have to wait two weeks for an appointment.
I felt numb. I asked a lot of questions but I let my husband do a lot of the talking. Occasionally a tear would fall but all the doctors and counselors assured us we were making the right decision. That there is nothing I could have done to cause this, that it just happened. The hospital called to make my appointment for the d&e and I was in the shower. I'll remember forever wrapping myself in a bath towel and sitting on the edge of the tub confirming my appointment time. Conditioner still in my hair, the house completely silent. As soon as I hung up the phone I broke down but eventually I got back in the shower. I brushed my teeth. I put my clothes on and cried and cried.
I went back to work and spend the days alternately getting shit done and crying at my desk. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have an office with a big picture window. I had to call and cancel my prenatal appointments and have the receptionists ask me if I want to reschedule. I have to feel my little girl moving inside me as she continues to grow. I take my prenatal vitamins every day and rub my stomach and cry. I cry in the car, on the couch, when I wake up in the morning and have to pee because she's laying on my bladder. I just cry and wait. And question and wait. And wait and wait and wait.
I tell my husband and he's very supportive. We have been on the same page with every decision but it's very different for him. He's not still pregnant. He can get drunk and try not to think about any of this. He can maybe even forget for a little while. But I can't. The only thing I have allowed myself is a couple glasses of wine and deli sandwiches.
I was preparing myself for how to deal with unruly toddlers and the lack of sleep and blowout diapers. I never prepared for this. I never truly thought something like this could happen to us, to me. But it did and now we have to live through it. I'm not a mommy anymore. I'm something else. And now I have to figure out what that is.
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