It finally worked again. Oh, thank God! After over two years of trying and one miscarriage, it's finally our turn! We're so pumped to be having a baby again. And, holy shit, what's that on the screen? Twins?! Ok! Can we handle twins? We'll find out!
Or not.
At the next appointment only one heartbeat was confirmed.
"That's ok though. This happens." I told myself.
I didn't cry.
Occasionally, I'd scold myself for doubting our ability to juggle two. I mean, I juggle the care of multiple babies at work all the time. If someone can do it, then me, right?
Maybe because I questioned God's plan, he took one away from me...
"But, hey, at least we still have one!"
And wow, look at it! One beautiful, strong heartbeat.
You're adorable!
I fell more in love with you at each ultrasound.
Look at your little arm and leg buds!
That Friday the thirteenth we went in for a check-up I was nervous but your dad was so confident. We talked about our dreams and plans for you on the drive up. We were on the highest of highs. Soon we'd be able to share our little secret with the world. Glory be to God! YOU!
The doctor began the ultrasound and it was quickly apparent to me that something wasn't right. I saw you immediately...but you weren't moving. I expected to see you moving your little arms and legs at this point. Just like your big brother did. And suddenly - it dawned on me.
Hundreds of thoughts flooded my head.
OH GOD, your heart. Where is it?
OH MY GOD, where is the heart?!
DOC, why can't I see the heartbeat flickering anymore?!
The doctor isn't looking at me.
I turn my head to the right.
Eddie isn't looking at me.
Everyone is looking at the ultrasound screen.
I'm quivering.
OH GOD, where is it?!?
I just saw it at the last appointment!
I'm screaming in my head.
Tell me you see the heart, Dr. Wetzka!
YOU'RE CLOSER TO THE SCREEN!
TELL ME YOU SEE THE FUCKING HEART BEATING!
I CAN'T SEE IT FROM BACK HERE!
EDDIE!!!!!
TELL ME YOU CAN SEE IT!
SOMEONE SIT ME UP! I'LL FIND IT!
MOOOOVE OUT OF THE WAY! HELP ME SIT UP!
I'LL FIND IT!
I'LL SHOW YOU GUYS!
None of these words actually make it to my tongue.
They're trapped in my head.
I'm shaking uncontrollably at this point.
My throat is tight and I'm convinced someone has sucked the oxygen from the room.
This can't be happening. Not again. NOT A-MOTHER FUCKING-GAIN!
I'm shaking so uncontrollably and I feel another hand on my leg. I'm sure I'm about to fall off the chair. It's a stabilizing hand, not a comforting hand. Someone else thinks I can fall off this chair too.
Our doctor starts the sentence with the word "Unfortunately..."
and I fill with a strange electricity.
NOOOO!
Absolute anger.
Anger is a foreign feeling to me. I rarely, if ever, feel it but there was a red-hot, almost white rage building in me.
NO! NOT AGAIN! We've lost another one?!?
The doctor removed the ultrasound wand from inside me.
The picture of your little body disappeared.
Still, my anger pulsed on.
I could have broken something.
I was getting dressed but I remember whipping my jeans against the wooden bench.
There are hot tears streaming down my, presumably, reddened face.
Until this point I said nothing.
Finally a word escaped my lips.
"Fuck!"
It was the only fitting word I could utter.
The only word my brain could form.
"FUUUUUCCKK! FUCK! Fuck..."
I beat my black boots against the ground like a child. I was embarrassed for the way I was acting. I knew from the outside looking in it probably looked like a two year old throwing a temper tantrum. But I was furious.
I started to hyperventilate.
I cupped my hands over my mouth in an attempt to regulate my breathing.
With the last miscarriage I envisioned jumping from the tall office building or stepping blissfully in front of one of the many trains that pass by our clinic.
Anything to stop this pain. This pain needed to end immediately.
There were no suicidal thoughts this time. Only fury. I could have screamed at the top of my lungs and broke every glass window in the building.
The only thing stopping me was the other women in the waiting room. I was acutely aware of all the other nervous women waiting their turn around the corner. Only two walls separated my wails from the others. I had to keep it together for them. Why? Who knows. I can't explain it.
Have you ever heard a woman weep over her dead baby? Unfortunately, through my work, I've heard it many times. It comes from the deepest part of the gut. It's a primal sound. Sorrow has a sound and it's bone-chilling. On that day, I heard this sound escape my own mouth.
Because the pregnancy was further along. We were instructed to go to the hospital near our home and have a D&C rather than wait for it to end "naturally" like the last time.
The day I went to the hospital for the procedure, they had to do another ultrasound to confirm the loss.
I spoke matter-of-factually in the room that day. I was numb.
Doc - "Mrs. Frick, is this your second pregnancy?"
Me - "No. I am a 33 year old Gravida 3 Para 1 - Premature birth at 35+6 in 2015, spontaneous abortion in April 2017 and currently with possible di-di twins."
Doc - "Oh ok, are you a doctor?"
Me - "No, a nurse."
Doc - "We can schedule the surgery for tomorrow."
Me - "I've been NPO since before midnight, but what's another day with a dead baby in me. I went weeks the last time and it's been 3 days since we got the news."
Doc *shook* - "Sit tight, I'll make some phone calls and try to fit you in today."
Miraculously, there was an opening.
This was the last time I saw you. Even then. With a stopped heart. I loved you. I still thought you were the most beautiful sight. I'm sorry it didn't work out. We wanted you so badly!
We were sent back into the waiting room as the next patients were called after me. It's torturous being forced to sit and listen to the healthy heartbeat of another person's baby. Just moments ago, mine was confirmed by two different docs to have ceased but, through the thin doors, I can hear another baby's heart chugging away.
Why your baby and not mine?
The doctor gave me a white envelope with two pills inside.
I took them.
I expected them to work in some hours.
It only took minutes for the bleeding to start.
I was in the middle of my anesthesia consultation when I felt the all too familiar rush of warmth between my legs.
I had to excuse myself.
In the bathroom I saw the deep red blood...and the clots.
The panic came.
I remember this from the last time.
I had to control my breathing alone in the stall before returning to the anesthesiologist.
The anesthesiologist is a beautiful, glowing woman who I would guess to be about 8 months pregnant herself.
My God is humorous.
"JUST GET ME THE HELL UPSTAIRS AND FULL OF DRUGS!" I want to scream.
But instead, I sit there like a good girl, and sign papers...as more blood pulses out of me.
Finally, I'm in my room and I barely let the nurse introduce herself before I ask her for something to relax. Yea, I'm that patient.
After I swallow the pills, I google how long until Midazolam will take work.
"Psssht, not fast enough, should have snorted it." I thought.
I read also "works by inducing sleepiness, decreasing anxiety, and causing a loss of ability to create new memories."
Good.
I don't want anymore new memories of this shit.
Eddie has gone home.
I am alone.
Soon I will be even MORE ALONE.
I put on my hospital gown and slippers.
I remove my contact lenses and jewelry because I'm a good patient.
I turn on my right side and try to stop myself from shaking.
Eventually, someone comes to take me to the OR.
I don't remember the way there - "loss of ability to create new memories" I suppose.
I'm in the OR and there are multiple people prepping me and introducing themselves.
I get an IV.
It's cold.
Someone reads my thoughts and throws a warm blanket on me.
I'm crying.
No one sees.
My tears are going into my ears.
I can't wipe them.
My arms are strapped down.
Everyone is busy.
"You do this every day. But I am so sad." I whisper.
Someone hears me and asks me to repeat myself.
"YOU GUYS DO THIS EVERY DAY BUT I AM SO SAD!" I say loudly enough that everyone heard.
No one responded.
"Please don't injure my uterus and good luck." I add.
I see the mask come towards my face and I inhale as deeply as I can.
As always, the tingling starts near the back of my head and moves forward over my ears towards my eyes.
I welcome the silence and eagerly await the darkness.
Today is your due date but you're gone. Long gone. Gone from my belly. Gone from anyone's thoughts. Except for mine. I am 100% sure that I am the only one thinking of you today. Your dad has moved on, healthily, as one should and does. I am positive not one of my friends or family members will reach out today. One only reaches out when there is a physical reminder to check in. A big gravid belly means questions.
"How are you?"
"Are you feeling ok?"
"Are you ready for the big day?"
No one will ask me today how I am feeling.
No one will ask if I am ready for this day to come.
Oh God, I was so excited for this day to come!
But now, I can't wait until it's finally over.
