Friday, April 1, 2011

If only...

I'm sad tonight. It's Friday. If this were a normal Friday maybe my husband and I would be out at the movies or out for dinner. Maybe we'd be hanging with friends having fun. Maybe if things were normal we'd be planning to do some 'advance' baby looking tomorrow. Not with the intent to buy anything of course, but just, you know, for fun.

But things aren't normal. Things are shit.

I've been trying to be good and remain laying down as much as possible, but I continue to leak fluid and mucous, so I'm definitely not counting on re-sealing anytime soon. We've listened on the doppler a few times, so we know the baby's heart beat is still it's normal 150-160s range. However, it makes me sick thinking about how just over a week ago, I was starting to feel some pretty obvious baby flutters pretty frequently...and now I feel a lot less. Just like with Aidan. Baby has no room, baby cannot move. I'm afraid all the time that I'm crushing him/her.

One thing that has made me really angry the last few days was that I do not know Acorn' sex. At our 'placenta' ultrasound at 16 weeks, we specifically asked the tech if she could tell us if it was a boy or a girl. She looked for about 5 seconds and then said "Um...might be too early to say, cord is kind of in the way...and I'm not really comfortable saying". AND NOW WE LIKELY WON'T KNOW UNTIL THE BABY IS BORN. If she had just taken a few more seconds, or if we had pushed a little harder, I might be able to better prepare for what might (will?) happen. I want to name the baby instead of just referring to him/her as Acorn. I want to be able to buy a gender specific blanket to wrap him or her in that belongs just to us. I want to have something ready with his or her name on it, but I can't. If I could go back and do one thing, it would be to continue taking my progesterone longer (not that it would have helped anything, but just in case), and I would have pushed to have them tell me the sex. When you might lose your baby, the sex is not just an 'insignificant detail'. It matters very much.

I'm just angry and sad and disappointed that we are here again. No one knows what to say, again. And I don't have any answers. I almost feel embarrassed that this has occurred again. Sort of like if you fail your drivers test. Once, everyone understands, but any more than that and people start looking at you funny. Like "gee, what the hell is wrong with you? How could you screw up this natural, normal thing, not only once, but TWICE?" My brother was funny when he joked that the only way things could have been worse at this point was if, when my membranes ruptured, I had been in Japan, when the earthquake hit, and I could have been on a tour of their Nuclear Power plants. Seriously.

I just wanted a normal, average pregnancy. I would take the morning sickness, the tiredness, the added pounds and back pain. I know I'm a heart patient and things might have got a little more dicey to towards the end, but in the couple weeks before I ruptured I was physically feeling pretty good. The doctors thought so too. I was up, I was active. I was feeling healthy and not so tired. Now I feel sore and achy from lying down, and I'm worried every day that I'll get an infection, or bleed, or that the baby's heart will stop. And those are just my short term worries. Long term ones are worse.

I wake up every morning wishing I was someone else, somewhere else. It takes all the strength I have just to open my eyes. I feel all alone and there is no one coming to the rescue.

I can no longer remember a time when I was not yearning for something I could not have.


  1. awww hun..."If only" I could carry you through this.

  2. I've been thinking of you so much. We've all been waiting for an update.
    Please know you will continue to be in my thoughts.

  3. This is all just horrible. I've walked in your shoes and I don't even know what to say right now. Stay strong and know that many are praying for you right now!


  4. I've been thinking of you so much. I wish I could make it better. I know nothing helps, nothing but finding out that Acorn is going to be OK.

    I have also been thinking lately that I can't remember a time when I wasn't yearning for something that was impossible. It just sucks that that is our life now.

    Thinking of you and sending you lots of love and hugs.

  5. keep listening to that heartbeat Emily... have you recorded it? You may want to that as a keepsake. I wish so much that I had recorded Cullen's.
    When is your next appt. do you think by chance they might see you monday just to try and look for you to try and see the gender. It would be such a compassionate thing to do for you...
    I am thinking of you and sending all the strength I can...
    Love and light, Leslie

  6. Sorry there is just nothing to say that is helpful, I am thinking of you. I know that feeling of embarrassment - I just don't even tell people we're trying another cycle anymore (#6). Hoping you can get a scan soon that tells you more.

  7. You're in my thoughts and most definitely in my prayers.

  8. There are no words but just know that I am thinking of you, Emily. I am so sorry. <3

  9. These are feelings I remember all so well... And I am so sorry that you are going through them.

    In my work counseling parents who are miscarrying or who are preparing for a loss where they do not know the sex of the baby, I often recommend naming the baby with a unisexual name, like Francis or Taylor, etc. We actually did our nursery in greens because we figured it would be good for any sex, so perhaps you can get some items in green... that way it doesnt matter if it is a boy or girl. Or, perhaps blue and pink. You can get things... It's part of the hope process... And, if things end the way that none of us wants them to, they are things that hold memories that you can hold on to.

    I'd like to send you something, if that's okay. Something that was special to us with our babies who died and those who were born late enough that the NICU could save them. If you are comfortable, please email me your address. michele dot haytko at gmail dot com.


  10. You've been in my thoughts so much lately. I wish there was something more I could do. I'm so sorry this is happening and that you feel so alone.

  11. I've been thinking about you often, Emily. Wondering how you are, anxious for an update, hoping for you and Acorn.

    I'm sorry you feel so alone. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Love and hugs.