grieving

i woke up this morning feeling like i had been hit by a truck. every part of my body aches. some of that is my body physically working through this ordeal. but not all.

on wednesday night, i began showing some signs of a miscarriage. i dialed the number so fast with shaking hands, i am surprised i got through. the nurse on the phone amazingly understood me through my hiccuping sobs. we rushed to the emergency room. thankfully my dad was here with the kiddos. after an agonizing wait of two hours sitting by a window, each time an ambulance with its flashing lights drove up in the bay, my heart dropped knowing the beds were needed for more urgent situations. but we finally were called back. my exam and ultrasound were inconclusive. although the doctor and nurses were very kind, they could only call our midwife practice and let them know i needed to be seen in the morning. if the baby was fine, i could only rest and wait. if not, the same was true.

i didn't think i would be able to sleep. we just sat on the couch, feeling a bit numb and confused, until fatigue from the stress hit us. so ended the scariest day of my life up to this point.

blurry eyed, i woke early the next morning. the skylights showed the day was still dark, but suddenly i was wide awake. i spent the next few hours researching on-line. my hope was rising. one statistic i read, said only 50% of pregnancies result in miscarriages with the symptoms i showed. luca and gia slept in (grandpa let them stay up a little late the night before) and we started that day somber, yet expectant. the nurse called right when we all sat down to eat breakfast and asked us to come in asap.

we quickly packed up bags for the kids with food (gia's lip was trembling as we took her newly poured bowl of cereal - she looked at me like, "you are not going to let me eat?") and rushed them over to a friends. luca was thoroughly disturbed by this, continuing to protest, that we needed to go back home and eat breakfast. after dropping them off pajama clad and hungry, we began the drive to the clinic.

the check-in and wait was very quick, the looks the receptionist's and sonographer's faces gave us made me want to scream. we didn't know anything yet, but they looked so sympathetic. laying on the table, watching the screen as the ultrasound began, reality began to hit. regardless of how she moved the transducer, the image on the screen was eerily still and silent. no flashing pulse of a heartbeat. as the tears beagn to fall, the technician quickly and without comment began to make her measurements. when she turned off the machine, i pretty much lost it. she slipped out to give us privacy and we sat in the dim room hugging.

after a few minutes, a nurse came in, placed a handful of tissues in my palm and led us through a maze of hallways in order to avoid the waiting room of pregnant women. we had only met with one of the six midwives from the practice and they thoughtfully called her over from the hospital to speak with us.

baby harehok (as he/she will always be known in our family) was about 9 1/2 weeks along in size, meaning it was about a week and half ago that he/she died. there is no specific cause for the miscarriage, just that it is possible there may been some sort of malformation making it difficult or impossible to keep growing now and/or live outside the womb. not that that information makes it any easier.

the decision now is to let my body take care of things naturally if possible, but i will continue to be monitored to make sure my hcg levels lower. in two weeks i have another ultrasound scheduled and at that time the need for a d&c will be determined.

yesterday was spent in a state of shock and continued numbness. although the cramping has continued, no other symptoms are now happening. i will probably be in a lot of pain and discomfort over the next couple weeks. emotionally, we have no idea what to expect. jesse tried to stay busy with the kids and house yesterday, while i was unable to focus on anything. it took me several hours to write the short e-mail we sent to our friends. we slept for a couple hours while the kids were down, and just kind of glided through the day. finally, time for bed. so ended the saddest day of my life.

so today. i first woke at 4am and walked around the house like a zombie for 45 minutes. when i went to take more pain meds, and didn't recognize myself in the mirror. then came the true morning. and the whole truck feeling. i have no idea how i got through this post.

thankfully, we have amazing friends to help us. so many offers to help. the only problem is not being able to focus on what we need.

the kids are at the library, while jesse and i pull ourselves together a bit. not completely though. we are grieving and that is messy.


"Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth.

The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.
. . . the sound of weeping and of crying will be heard in it no more.
Never again will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days. . ."
Isaiah 65: 17, 19, 20

4 comments:

Roxanne said...

ANne & Jesse- SO sorry for your loss, thank you for sharing your journey so openly. There are tears for you in Africa. We love you!

Roxanne said...

Anne- I was thinking and praying for you today- just wanted you to know we are thinking of you still! Hope you are able to greive and heal and be real with Him- He can handle it:) LOve you a ton and wish I coudl give you a hug!

lizzie said...

Annalea & Jesse - words cannot describe how sad I am for you and your family. You are in our thoughts and prayers! Love you all!

Stan & Jess said...

Annalea & Jesse - I am so sorry for your loss, my heart just breaks for you. You are wonderful parents and the deep love for your children is so apparent. Thoughts and prayers.

- Jess Worst

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