Not as Bad as I Thought

Well, the weekend wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I was feeling anxious about attending a memorial service for my dad. Yes, he died 14 months ago, but a friend of his wanted to host a service for him at her church. I wasn't looking forward to it. I felt like I didn't want to go through that emotional rollercoaster again. But, it turned out to be a nice day. It was nice just to think about my dad again and honor him.

My sister came to town with her five beautiful children for the service. Three of them are under five years of age, so she was running after them the entire time. I quickly jumped in and tried to prevent a few accidents. In the midst of it all, I couldn't help but think that I wanted to be doing that with Ella. I want to not get to eat my food because I have to run after Ella who is getting into everything. Some might think that women who lose their babies tend to romanticize motherhood. But, I know I am missing the good and the crazy, exhausting parts of motherhood.

Okay there was one sucky moment that occurred that night. My uncle showed me a picture of my cousin's new baby on his cell phone. The baby was born 12 days before Ella. I just looked at the picture and said, "oh, she's beautiful." Then, tried to change the subject. I didn't mind being shown the picture of the new baby. But, it would have been nice if he would have acknowledged the fact that I had a baby girl too, shortly after this one was born. I had a picture of Ella in my purse too. I could have totally whipped it out and showed it to him. But, honestly, I'm very protective of her picture and choose to only share it with people who've been there for me and I feel supported by.

I think part of the reason why the weekend was bearable was because I started taking an antidepressant on Thursday. So far, I'm loving Lexapro! My doctor actually prescribed the meds for me when I left the hospital. I took it for a few days, but felt like it blocked my ability to cry. I wasn't ready to feel "good." I wanted to immerse myself in the pain. This past week, I had been feeling stuck in the pit of grief. Stuck in the rage of anger... I decided that I was ready to feel a bit lighter. I'm only taking 5 mg and I still feel sad, I still miss my little girl, but I am also feeling a bit hopeful- I see a little bit of my old self again. It's a nice balance, if that makes sense.

I also decided to start taking the antidepressants because I've been thinking about TTC. My doctor has given us the all clear to try again. I told myself that if I am really up for trying again, I needed to feel a bit better psychologically. I know it is easier to conceive when you are relaxed. I also know that I have to be ready to fight. I have to prepare myself for feeling sad if we don't conceive right away. I have to be ready to face the fear of losing another baby. I have to be ready to ride the emotional rollercoaster of a subsequent pregnancy.

Ella's Name Gallery Idea

Have you seen Stellan's Name Gallery?

I would love, love, love to have some pictures like this for Ella. I actually chose the name Ella because it means, "one who travels." I loved the idea of my daughter exploring the world. Now, here is the way that our babies can "see" the world. I think it would be so neat if we took these types of pictures for each other. We all live in different places and could get some really cool pics. I think I may even ask some of my IRL friends to take these types of pictures while they're traveling this summer. If you would like me to take a picture of your baby's name, leave me a comment or send me an email: briannemeg@yahoo.com. Don't forget to leave me your email address so I can send the pic to you.

I'm also getting my birthday cards up and running. If you would like to receive one, email me the following info:
the date you'd like to recieve a card
who and where the card should be addressed to
your baby's name

UPDATE:
My friend just sent me a photo of Ella in Las Vegas! Will post soon. I'm so excited!

Seriously

Okay, here I am blogging from my Ipod again. Please excuse any typos. Today I received an email from my MIL telling me to count my blessings and be positive. She told me that some people have no one to love them and I'm lucky that I have family that love me. She then proceeded to remind me that she lost her parents when she was a child and had to care for her disabled sister with no money. Seriously? Okay, she's right. I'm so sorry for the tantrum I've been throwing for the past two months. Was she intending on making me feel ashamed for grieving? Because that's totally how it came off. What is wrong with some people? All you need to say is, I'm sorry, how are you doing?

Feeling Grateful

Okay, so I know I've been spending a lot of time venting about the things that people are not doing for me. But, in this moment I am feeling grateful for my friends. I'm grateful for the amazing women I've met here online. This has been such a powerful outlet for me. Love you Ada's mom, Gregory's mom, Zoelle's mom, Maddox's mom, Georgia's mom, Ellis' mom, Levi's mom, Ella's mom, Lukas' mom, Clare and Aren's mom.

I am grateful for the friend that lives thousands of miles away, but emails me several times a day just to check on me.

I'm grateful for the friend that signed up at my yoga studio just so I'd have a buddy to do yoga with. And, she makes me go even when I say I don't feel like it.

I'm grateful for the friend who thought to send me a book about pregnancy loss.

I'm grateful for my friend (who's little girl is battling cancer and I've been too selfish and busy to see in the last year) for hanging out with me and letting me gush over her little girl.

I'm grateful for the wonderful woman who took over my classroom during this absence. She's lost a child too and she is amazing.

I'm grateful for my friend who was understanding when I went all crazy on her.

And finally, I'm grateful for my DH who I know would do anything to make it all better.

Guilt

I've been feeling really guilty about the decision I made to not resuscitate Ella at birth. Yes, I know I said that Ella passed before I even delivered her, but what if I had said that I wanted the doctors to do everything in their power to save her? Perhaps they would have monitored Ella more closely during the labor. I know I am thinking about this because I have met a couple of women online who's 23 weekers survived with minimal effects. I also know that if I brought a healthy baby home from the hospital and then was later told that she had birth defects or was sick, I would have fought for them to get better. I wouldn't have given up. Deep down I know I made the best decision I could have at the time. But, I will always wonder if Ella would be here with me had I made a different decision.

A Sign?

Something cool happened to us last night. My husband and I went for a walk at the beach. I saw a beautiful baby girl, probably about 1 years old lumbering through the grass. I told my husband, look there's Ella. And, suddenly this baby's brother came running towards her, screaming "hi, Ella." Probably a little too loudly, I said, oh my god. It had been such a difficult day for me. I really felt like this happened for a reason. Maybe Ella is with us- watching over us.

What Happened

My little girl, Ella was born two months ago today. I’ve wanted to tell my story for a while now, but have been putting it off. God knows I play the event in my head several times a day. It is really weird how I can be back in that moment in an instant. But, there are times that I wonder if it really happened.

It all started with cramps. I had been having mild cramps all day, but figured I ate something that didn’t agree with me or that I was just growing. I had a lot of cramping the first couple of months of the pregnancy, so I figured this was nothing. My husband and I were in bed watching Entourage and I got up to go to the bathroom. I started screaming from the bathroom because I had passed my mucus plug- though at the time, I didn’t identify this as a mucus plug- I hadn’t gotten to the labor part of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, but I knew something wasn’t right. I phoned the on-call doctor and she told me just to drink water and lay down. I followed her instructions, but about a half hour later, my intuition told me to just go get it checked out.

We arrived at the hospital around midnight. The doctor checked me and said everything felt fine, but that she wanted to do an ultrasound also. The ultrasound showed that my cervix was shortening. She told me that she wanted me to stay over night so that they could monitor me. At this point, I wasn’t terribly worried. I thought I was in good hands and that I’d get all fixed up. The monitor showed that I was having contractions and that my uterus was irritable.

I sat around for another day and on Monday morning, I was wheeled up to Perinatology for another ultrasound. Ella looked beautiful! She looked so big. The technician said that all of Ella’s organs looked good. Ella was measuring 1 pound 3 ounces. She got a really good shot of her foot and was able to confirm that Ella was indeed a girl. Then, she proceeded to check my cervix. Again, I was not familiar with any of this. I ignored the chapters on what could go wrong when reading my pregnancy books. She told me that my cervix was funneled and was only a couple of millimeters long. She told me to get dressed and then she wheeled me into the peri’s office. Before she started talking, I asked her to call down to my room to see if my husband had arrived. I had sent him home the night before to get some much needed sleep and he wasn’t back yet. I still wish he would have been there to hear the news. She basically told me that I could do nothing and see what happened or I could have an emergency cerclage and receive progesterone shots once a week. She was pregnant, so I asked her what she would do if she were in my position. I didn’t really get a straight answer from her, but I think she was trying to say that I should take the latter route. She told me that she’d consult with the head doctor and then come see me in my room a little later. She rolled me out to the lobby and left me there for the nurse from L and D to come get me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone. I just started crying. The receptionist came over and gave me some tissue. I had only been back in my room for a couple of minutes, when the peri came to see me again. She said she’d looked at the print out of my contractions and that my uterus was too irritable to sew me up, therefore cerclage was not an option. This was the first time that I thought, “Oh my god, I’m losing this baby.” This was the first time I felt hopeless. The peri left and my actual doctor came in to see me. My husband arrived shortly after. I started crying the second he walked in because I knew that I had to tell him the horrible news. My doctor’s plan was to send me home. She told me I needed to be on complete bed rest and that someone would come to my house once a week to administer progesterone shots. At 24 weeks (I was 22 at the time), I could get a round of steroid shots to accelerate the development of Ella’s lungs. She also said that if I made it to 25 weeks (viability), I could continue my bed rest at a hospital that had a level 3 NICU. I was given my first progesterone shot and a bottle of Nifedipine (to stop the contractions) and was sent home. Looking back, I wish I would have refused to go home. I should have just asked to stay in the hospital to be monitored 24/7.

I tried to remain so positive the week I was on bed rest. I never complained about the aches and pains I was experiencing from being in bed 23.5 hours a day. I knew that I would rather have been in bed in pain than be delivering my daughter. I had my husband tape up pictures of healthy babies on my wall so that I could meditate on the idea of bringing home a healthy baby. My husband did such an amazing job caring for me. I woke him up at 5 am each morning because I was starving. He’d get up and make me eggs or oatmeal and then we’d go back to bed for a few more hours. I was trying to consume a lot of protein and fat so that Ella could grow big and strong since it was inevitable that she would be born early. I really couldn’t do much lying in bed, so I watched a lot of TV and checked my email frequently. As the week progressed, my contractions got stronger and closer together.

Seven days had passed since I went to the hospital. Again, my husband and I were in bed watching Slumdog Millionaire. I had been in touch with my doctor all day because I was having more intense contractions. Again, I got up to go to the bathroom and discovered that I was bleeding. I called my doctor and she asked me to put her on speaker phone so that she could speak to both of us. She explained to us that it seemed like Ella was coming and asked us if we wanted to try to save her (did we want to resuscitate at birth), because if we did, we’d need to go to another hospital that had a level 3 NICU and she would not be the delivering doctor. I spoke without even asking my husband for his opinion. I told her that I wanted to do everything to keep Ella inside me, but that if she was going to come, I wanted nature to take its course. I still feel bad about this decision, but my feeling was that I didn’t want her to spend months in the NICU and the rest of her life sick. I wanted to be selfish and do anything to keep her alive, but I also knew that it wouldn’t be fair. In the end, I didn’t even have to make this decision because Ella wasn’t alive at birth.

I arrived at the hospital around midnight. The doctor went to check me and saw that my membranes were bulging and that I would probably deliver soon. The nurse started to explain to us what would happen. I asked if they could just knock me out and take the baby out of me. She said that while they could do that, they really wanted me to be a part of the whole process and see my baby. She said it helps with the whole grieving process.

As I settled into my room, the contractions were so strong that I was screaming. Once I got my epidural (my water broke while I was receiving it, by the way) and some anxiety medication, I was more comfortable.

Morning came and my doctor finally arrived. It was her birthday and she was scheduled off for the weekend, but she came in to deliver Ella. My contractions were leveling off a bit, so I was given Pitocin to speed things up. At about 10:45, I was ready to deliver. The nurses held my legs up and told me to push. I started to cry as I made my first push. I couldn’t believe that this was it. I would be with Ella no more. My doctor told me to push again and by the third push, at 10:50 Ella was out. My doctor had tears in her eyes and was so calm. She told me that Ella was not alive and that she was quite bruised because the labor is hard on such a little baby. I was surprised that she wasn’t alive. When I had arrived at the hospital, Ella’s heart was beating away. I thought I’d at least get to see her alive for a couple of minutes. My doctor explained to me that the whole process is really tough on the baby and that she probably died when my water broke. The nurse wrapped Ella in a blanket and put her on my chest. The nurse gushed and said Ella was so beautiful. That soothed me. I was so afraid of seeing her because I thought she’d be underdeveloped at 23 weeks. My teary eyed husband was right next to me and his head was lying on my chest too. Ella felt so warm. I examined her hands, feet, and lips. I held her on my chest for about two hours and then gave her to the nurse so that she could get cleaned up.

Ella was brought back into my room one more time about 8 pm that night. She was cleaned and dressed all in pink. There was a fresh pink rose in her basket. The nurse handed her to me, but I only held her for a minute. Once again, I asked the nurse to take her away. At the time, it was just too hard to look at my dead baby.

To this day, I still don’t know why I gave her to the nurse so easily. I should have held onto to her longer. I should have refused to give her up. I should have refused to leave the hospital without my baby. I also know that no length of time would have been enough.