Survival vs. Sorrow
The alarm went off at 6:45 this morning, signaling that it was time for me to get ready to go. I slowly sat up in bed, urging James to awaken, feeling overwhelmed and under-prepared for the morning ahead of me. We readied ourselves and drove to the Emergency Room. The guy that checked me in was sure that I was wrong and wasn’t supposed to be there. He claimed they don’t perform D&Cs on the weekends and he had received no Orders. After many calls to many different people in the hospital, he finally got the ok to admit me. There I received bracelet #1.
Into triage I went. I explained the situation again, assured the nurse that my Dr. was on her way to meet us there and after blood pressure check and the normal allergic reactions discussion, I was escorted to a room near the back of the ER. There I was given time to put on my hospital gown and bag my belongings before the nurses who would prep me would arrive. They also provided a blanket so that my wait would not be too cold. I remember thinking how embarrassing it was that I hadn’t shaved my legs.
The first nurse that came in was there to hook up my IV. I explained my veins don’t like to perform and requested a hot pack to get them going. The nurse wasn’t convinced, but after much tapping, and no luck, she had the lab send over a hot pack. Meanwhile, she brought me a warm blanket to bring up my body temperature. My IV was inserted much higher up on my hand than I’d expected and immediately after the drip began to flow my hand began to ache. After the nurse left, I pulled the IV out just a tad and the pressure was a little less. The drip was going faster than I’d ever seen and my body was sucking down the saline solution.
The second nurse that came in was there to draw blood. They needed a fairly large amount of blood and she was having a difficult time getting my veins to perform as well. She chose a vein quite close to my knuckles and inserted the needle. It didn’t hit paydirt, so she wiggled it around to see if she had further luck. I jumped at about the fourth wiggle and that vein was done. It’s still hurting now, as I type. She was able to have more luck with a vein in my elbow/mid-arm area. This nurse gave me my second bracelet which was a warning that I was allergic to paxil and vicodin, and my third bracelet, proof that blood was drawn today.
The third visitor was my anesthesiologist who introduced himself and explained what they would do and asked additional questions regarding any bad reactions to anesthesia in the past, if I’d ever had wisdom teeth removed or any other procedures – all the good stuff. He was very nice. He very recently had his first child. I was happy for him, genuinely. He listened to my breathing to determine if the anesthesia might be a problem and everything sounded AOK.
Somewhere along the line, my OB, Dr. Hogenson, came into the room to check on me and let me know what would be happening. She explained how the procedure would take place and explained that they would be looking for chromosomal abnormalities in what they take out in order to determine if there was a cause of my repeated miscarriages so far. If no abnormalities are found, then we will know there is something wrong or not functioning properly in me. If there are abnormalities related to the mix of James’ and my dna, then we know that there are problems that route. The last thing, which is what we are hoping for, is that there will be chromosomal abnormalities that triggered a normal response to “abort” because the fetus would not have survived outside of the womb. This type of abnormality is common and doesn’t generally keep repeating itself.
She asked if we wanted to pursue birth control after or if we wanted to continue trying. We told her that we would have to discuss it further once the shock of it all had subsided a little more. She was very understanding. She arranged to meet with James in the cafeteria after my procedure was completed so that she could let him know how it had gone.
The fourth visitor I had was a wonderful nurse who asked if I would prefer to walk to the OR, be wheeled in the bed or sit in a wheelchair. She said that the bed I was in was not a bed they could keep in the OR, so they’d prefer to leave it there, but they wanted me to be comfortable. I opted for chair. After attaching a new bag of fluids to me and getting it going, she loaded me and my blanket along with the paperwork and my chart and IV into the chair and James walked me out to about the half way point. We said goodbye and he went to get breakfast as I went to, well, surgery.
In the Operating Room, I was introduced to another anesthesiologist and was asked to lay down on a large bed/table. It had special arm rests that felt like they had their own little magic foam pads. An oxygen mask was placed over my mouth and nose and the doctor asked me to take some deep breaths. They explained that they were going to give me a dose of something in my IV that might make my hand have a tingling sensation and possibly some discomfort. Shortly after they informed me of that I felt as though someone had run over my hand with our car. I joked with the doctor that he hadn’t been kidding about the pain. He apologized and told me that taking some deep breaths would help. He told me that he was going to add some more and the last thing I remember in that room is preparing for it to hurt again – then nothing.
I felt like something was in my throat and the room had changed. The lights were not all above me, there were lights to the left of me now. I was concerned that I had awoken during the procedure. I started looking around and someone removed the the piece from my throat quickly and asked if my throat hurt. I remember that it didn’t but I don’t recall what the throat piece looked like or who removed it. I tried to focus on the ceiling tiles or the clock but everything was moving. A very kind nurse was standing by my bed asking how I was doing and keeping a close eye on me. A lot of that beginning time is a blur.
I remember James coming in, and my being thrilled to see him. He came over to hold my hand and I realized I was shivering quite a bit. The nurse added something to my IV to combat the shivers. Then I felt pain, like menstrual cramps, but different. She added something to my IV to combat the pain. A second nurse came in to check on me, I’m not sure why and I can’t recall her face to save my life. Then a representative came in with a small quilt. The quilt is called an Amanda quilt. A woman many years ago experienced a miscarriage around the same time her best friend did. Her best friend’s child was named Amanda. They began making quilts for women who experienced this type of loss as a tangible reminder of the life that was. I’ll take a photo of the quilt and post it later. It is a beautiful small quilt and the woman who brought it to me carefully folded it and placed it under the blanket with me so that I could hold it. She also brought a folder of information on support groups and ways to cope with grief.
When my doctor came in (my OB was who performed the procedure) I was so happy to see her. She was so comforting and so supportive. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better doctor. She told me that she wants to see me in two weeks, which is when we’ll get the results from the chromosomal tests and wished us the best of luck in recovery.
The nurse who was by my bedside when I awoke stayed with me until we left the hospital. She was very kind and let me rest until most of the medication wore off. She walked us through the discharge instructions and had James sign off on everything. She shared some information about her life and children and grandchildren and we got to know her as I became more and more alert. I suprised her when she was searching for the phone number for Dr. Hogenson and I recited it from memory. Apparently, most people are a little more out of it than I was. She gave me time to get ready to leave. James helped me get dressed and I took one of my pain killers before leaving so that when the hospital’s pain meds wore off I would be able to cope. The nurse wheeled me out to the lobby and waited with me while James got the car. I gave her a big hug and crawled into the car to go home.
Even with the percoset, I can honestly say I’ve never had such extreme cramping before. I was physically exhausted, still am for the most part, and feeling very drained. As my mother in law expressed to me last time we went through this, it is a deflating experience. The pain had finally started to subside, I can take the minimum dose of percoset and be able to rest comfortably and I’ve had a wonderful dinner, so that helps with the energy issue. James picked up fresh fruit – strawberries, blueberries and raspberries from Fred Meyers and made me simple syrup to dip them in. I was making sugary fruit kabobs on toothpicks. I had some chicken strips and a glass of milk and I am feeling fairly good. I’m still not able to stand for more time than is neccessary and have to be careful to watch the amount of bloodloss from here on out, as well as take my temperature twice a day for a while, but this is all much better than yesterday – waiting and worrying.
Emotionally, I am doing much better than yesterday. It is a relief to know that at least nothing else can go wrong with this pregnancy… though it is disheartening to not know if I’ll ever have a successful one in the future. The quilt that I received today presents a challenge. I can look at the quilt and think of what I lost and be upset and saddened and angered… or I can look at the quilt as a reminder of how much stronger a woman I am than I thought I was, and what my marriage can survive and grow stronger through. I can make that choice. And I choose not to wallow in grief, I choose to remember that although no mother wants to outlive her children, the choice isn’t always ours. I have two children, who God knew in my womb and who sit with God now in Heaven. They are healthy and whole and in a world far better than any I could have raised them in. I will meet them one day and they will know I loved them. I choose not to wallow but to acknowledge the challenges that we were faced with and the FACT that we survived and we will grow stronger from this. My goal is to frame that quilt as a tangible reminder of what we survived and the strength the Lord provided us with. It won’t be easy, but it’s not a vacation, it’s life.
