It has taken me the last 11 days to both heal enough, and collect my thoughts enough to announce here on my blog that Jaemi made his or her entrance to heaven on Jan 26, 2012. The tears are waiting just inside my eye lids to fall to the floor or land in my hair as I write this.
I'll attempt to start at where I left off. My lab numbers were continuing their slow increase and my doctors office had finally released my chart to have me seen at a regular OB/GYN office. I was relieved and excited that finally they were giving me some hope that my baby had a chance in the world, that I might be able to carry this little infant to term and deliver another smiling baby into my arms and nurse and build the love that I had felt inside from the moment those scary words were spoken to me in the ER "you're pregnant, but we think you've miscarried".
Yesterday was Sunday, the first in weeks that I'd attended church. Sore and tired, we shared communion, and ordinarily I would have been having a moment of repentance and communion with my God, but instead the tears fell silently from my eyes dropping to my shirt and staining it with the salt (I didn't know a tear could stain, but it can, at least until it is washed) I prayed silently and passionately for my baby, that God would hold him/her and care for Jaemi, that he would let Jaemi know how much I loved him/her.
Back to the story, I received a phone call from an ob office on Jan 24th, told them that I had been on bed rest, and that I was having my blood hCG levels checked frequently and what the numbers were. The woman told me that bed rest was not recommended anymore and I was instantly mad at her... how dare she (a person without medical license) tell me that my doctor's recommendation would make no difference in the life of my child. She took all of my information and said she would call me back soon.
She called much sooner than I thought she would, maybe an hour after I'd first spoke to her. She said they were scheduling my first appointment with an ultrasound tech the next day and could I make it? I told her yes, but then after talking to my husband I realized that I couldn't. I didn't go to the appointment at all.
The afternoon of Jan 25th (the day I should have been able to see my baby on an ultrasound) I let my pride get me and when C disobeyed I lifted him carried him to his room and disciplined him... I kid you not the bleeding that had all but stopped moments before and even for the last two days immediately started again. Bright red water filled my toilet. I was so mad at myself, I apologized for my behavior to my son, to God and to my mother-in-law (who had offered to take C to his room when I had lifted him and should not have).
Sometimes I wonder if my pride was the reason I lost Jaemi, but I'm smarter than to blame myself for this loss. That evening after P got home and I was getting ready for bed I used the bathroom and again was bleeding very heavily. I prayed fervently that God would spare my child's life. I laid a towel down in the bed before laying myself on the pillows....I prayed again, I confessed to P that I had lost control and had lifted C, I told him that I was afraid, I admitted that I didn't feel God's peace over the life growing inside of me any longer, peace yes, but life no. P listened and held me awhile, and then fell asleep.
Around 12am I woke up feeling odd. I can't explain my thoughts, my feelings, nothing really, but it was habit by then to go to the bathroom with any odd twinge, just in case. So I went.... blood, more blood, tears, and prayers, feeling sick, was it the sight of the blood or my body getting desperate for blood and iron? I passed a clot and previous experience suggested that the bleeding would stop after that.
Approximately 30 minutes later I woke again feeling that same odd sensation that I could not describe. This time as I walked to the bathroom I felt weak, worn out and beyond tired... but it was past midnight so that was normal right? No. Crazy things happen to your thoughts when you faint. They are not real, you can't base your thoughts in time, or space, you don't know what is real and what is not. I felt my self slipping, I knew I needed to get closer to the floor, I managed to pull my underwear up and lay down on the bathroom floor trying desperately to stay conscious. I knocked on the bathroom door (from inside) hoping that my husband would hear me, that he could save me. All the time I kept thinking that everything that was happening was happening twice... I could almost anticipate it all because I felt like I'd done it once already, but really I was delirious, and didn't know what I was doing at all.
P woke up and came to me, he helped me to get up. He asked if I needed to go to the emergency room, I knew I couldn't tell him no, I needed help, and I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't accept it. He helped me get dressed (I was not nearly appropriate to leave my bedroom let alone the house). He helped me to get to the dinning room, his mother who had been staying with us came and took my blood pressure, she said it was slightly low but not horribly. He helped me to the car.... I directed him to the hospital... terrified to follow instructions from the ob/gyn in going to a different ER than the one that had previously seen me.
P ran inside and got a nurse and a wheel chair and helped me into the hospital and then drove the car to the parking garage. I was almost instantly checked in. They wheeled me to a room, I was so weak I couldn't do much of anything to help myself, but managed to undress and put their gown on. They drew my blood, I knew from previous experience that reading numbers helps me to avoid fainting so I insisted that someone give me something with numbers to read... one of the nurses gave me his ID.... I read number after number and the woman drawing my blood began to talk about miscarriage and how it wasn't my fault, and not to blame myself, the amount of blood I'd already lost combined with her words and the fear i have of needles combined and I puked all over the man's ID tag... I apologized as best I could and passed out, but not before telling that woman to shut up. (she later told me she was sorry that she was only trying to help, and thought what she said really was part of what was bothering me I felt I needed to be nice and told her that just the talking, no mater the words was why I yelled at her, that I just needed to concentrate, it was true, but I really had been overwhelmed by her telling me I was miscarrying).
A short, very short time later an ultrasound tech came to look for my baby. He used both the regular ultrasound, and the trans-vaginal ultrasound and would not tell me anything, I couldn't see the screen and I knew that even though I wouldn't understand (as the man said i wouldn't) that this wasn't good news. P left the room after that to go and call his boss... I was alone, and the nurse came back, was putting on her gloves and said something that insinuated that I knew what was happening at this point and had spoken to the doctor, but I had not, she announced to me, alone in that room that I had an ectopic pregnancy and was headed to the operating room. I was stunned to silence and she realized that I had not talked to the doctor, she just kept talking... I don't recall what she said after that.. I was crying. P came back and saw me crying, he asked what was wrong but I couldn't answer, it was too hard, I forced that nurse with my silence to say again the words that I hated hearing, that I couldn't admit, that I didn't ever want to hear in the first place... that they were about to murder my baby, so tiny, so helpless, to save my life. I told myself that I couldn't have any other response, that I HAD to let them do this, or what kind of mother would I be to C and F? I knew that there was no way an ectopic pregnancy could continue, that eventually the baby would die anyway. but I really couldn't get passed the fact that I had to let them murder my baby. I realize that people reading this could have a totally different view, or that they could have the same but want me to feel less guilty and say that I shouldn't think of it that way.... but in the end what really matters is that God took Jaemi, not the doctor.
They preformed my surgery and I saw the operating room, all of it, at least all I could take in, in the few minutes I had to figure out what exactly was happening and how to respond to the nurses and others helping me. I clearly saw that this was NOT the nightmare that I endured for F's delivery, that I would be safe, and that God was handling me with care. There was even a paper border around the room, it wasn't a cold place, it was a place that they had tried hard to make less scary for any woman coming there (it was a women's ward in the hospital, only women doctors, only women patients) The only man I met during the whole thing was the one I'd puked on (or puked on his name tag) and the anesthesiologist.
They helped me to sit up, the last thing I remember was the nurses putting some cuffs on my legs (for circulation) and then telling the anesthesiologist that they were ready. My next memory was waking up with the doctor standing near me telling me that she had done the surgery but found that I had two perfect falopian tubes, would carry another baby in the future with no problems and that she had not found what they had expected inside me... instead she had performed a D&C.... I was confused, groggy and full of so much grief I didn't know what to say in response.
Later I would ask many people why... in my own way, and not exactly like that, but I spoke to the chaplain, a music therapist, a social worker, and a spiritual healing specialist (?), the last being very brief since I also had guests in my room. The doctor (a partner for the one who performed the surgery) came to speak to me and said that she was told I probably had many questions, I did but didn't know any of them... mostly I wanted to know why a D&C was performed.. I was so against them, and all I knew is that the surgeon had seen a little tissue and done what she thought was best. The doctor then said that after the surgeon had opened my fallopian tube and seen that it was clear I began to bleed very heavily. Apparently they only thing they could do was to perform the D&C in hopes that the bleeding would stop and I could avoid a blood transfusion later. She also said that in my bleeding they had found the amniotic sac that would have carried my baby, not connected to anything, just there, in the blood, tiny and clear, nothing in it.... she said that there was no pregnancy terminated, that I had not had any form of abortion, but that my baby was already gone when they did what they could to prevent so much bleeding on my part.
Jaemi was with Jesus. I imagine my beautiful little brown haired child smiling and loving heaven. I imagine that some day when I get there I'll be greeted with the sound of Jaemi's voice... I imagine... I pray, and I realize that life, no mater how long is precious, and I hold my kids, my family, my life a little closer.