The End of the World as We Know It

Telling my daughters was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My husband decided to tell them the truth out of concern for me. My 4-year-old has been begging to be a big sister and he was afraid that in my fragile state, her relentless requests would be to torturous for me to endure. I think we should not of told her. My 4 year old took it especially hard. She is devastated. All I can do is cry.

The morning of my D& C, I awoke at 3:30 A.M. My 4 year old woke soon after and wanted to say good-bye to the baby. She put her arms around me and whispered quietly to my belly, “good bye, baby. I love you!” Then she begged me to get a photo of her baby for her. My heart broke into a million tiny pieces. Then she looked up at me and said, “ Maybe if I knew the baby was in your tummy I could have loved the baby more and he wouldn’t have died.” I whimpered, holding back the flood of hurt and pain that wants to come crashing out and consume the entire world. I have failed her and cannot give her what she’s wanted so badly.

5:30 am May first, 2012. It was a warm Tuesday morning. I walked into the hospital feeling lost and discombobulated, in a fog. We slowly made our way to the registration desk. It all seemed otherworldly, like it was a bad dream and wasn’t really happening but I couldn’t make myself wake up.

After what seemed like an eternity they called us back to prep for surgery. All I could think of we’re my children; my oldest trying to understand and comfort her sister, my youngest mimicking my inner breakdown, completely distraught that the baby was dead, and my baby who I loved so desperately but would never have the chance to hold, to look into his/her eyes, to kiss and nuzzle their tiny head.

Everyone was extremely kind to me that morning and I will always be thankful for their kindness. The kindness of strangers has truly helped me to survive the last few days. I’ve realized that sometimes its easier to speak to those who don’t really know you because they can offer an empathetic kindness and understanding unlike those who love you and have known you your entire life, because they are too vested and behind their love and support, you can see the pain and heartbreak they share with you and sometimes the burden of causing that pain is too much to bear.

The doctor arrived and I told her that I needed one last ultrasound to be certain there was no heartbeat. I. Had.to.be.certain! There was no heartbeat only a beautiful, perfect baby with a profile that reminded me of my oldest. I was thankful for one last look and asked for the ultrasound photos so that I could grant my daughter at least this one simple request. I did not get overly emotional. I did not cry. I had my photo. In had my proof. Proof that my baby ever existed.

The procedure was explained to me in ad nauseum and I was reassuringly told that it would be over in ten minutes. I found that to be the most unsettling thing of all that my entire life could be altered, my baby’s lifetime of promise and all of our hopes and dreams completely gone in a matter of ten minutes.

Tuesday morning my life was changed forever. I am not the same woman I was yesterday or the day before. She is gone. I am part of a new club, the saddest club ever. The one filled with all the mothers of the world who never got to meet their babies. That morning, one of the worst of my life, I met 4 of the kindest nurses I’ve ever met, 3 out of the 4 had experienced miscarriages. Each time they offered their sympathies and shared their own loss, I found myself feeling overwhelmed by my sadness for their loss.

I feel like a raw open wound and the wound is my heart and I’m not sure it will ever truly heal. I feel like I am on an emotional rollercoaster in hell and I cannot get off and I so desperately want to. I just want my mind to quiet and my heart to stop hurting so badly. I just want to survive. A quote was sent to me by one of my readers and it made me cry but I think it is beautiful, so I am sharing it here.

 

An angel in the Book of Life wrote down our baby’s birth and whispered as she closed the Book: “Too Beautiful for Earth!” ~Anon 

It ‘s beautiful to think of it that way but it doesn’t stop the pain. I hope someday, I will meet my baby again and get the chance to hold him/her in my arms, kiss her upon her cheek and be his Mommy.

*This and the previous post were written in my notes on my phone, as I was experiencing the hell of this week. It was written in a very vulnerable state and it may not make sense, or there may be misspellings or grammar issues, or jump all over the place because it’s hard to write logically when your world is falling apart and you can barely see to write through the tears and swollen eyes.

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Comments (29)

my friend, I am So sorry you are part of this club. So so sorry. Much love to you.

Oh, I’m just heartbroken for you and your family. I wish none of us ever had to be part of this group of families with an empty place at the table. I’ll be praying for you and sending love. Know that you are not alone, you are loved and your baby will always live in the hearts and minds of yourself and others.

My heart breaks for you.

I am sorry that you had to go through this. I remember when I went to the hospital for my D&C and I saw my paperwork and it said “Missed Abortion”. All I could think of was WTH?? I was hurt and angry that those words were on there and still am to this day. Maybe those are the correct terms…. I don’t know.
Like you I after my miscarriage I learned that I wasn’t alone and that it happened to so many people. I knew that others fully understood what I was going through.

I am so sorry you are part of this club – the one no one wants to be in. The club is here for you though xxo

I so wish our damn club would stop accepting new members. Love you, hon. So sorry and my heart hurts for you all. xoo

You are loved as are your babies. All of them.

I understand what you mean about the comfort of strangers. They can hold you up because it’s not their hurt, but they understand. Sending much love your way.

sending love and prayers, Deborah. I’ve been where you are and it is a true life changing pain.

You are a pilar of strength and an inspiration to me. I love your honest writing and will continue to pray for your comfort.

I’m so sorry Deborah. I lost my firstborn very early in the pregnancy- but I think about him/her everyday (he/she would be 18 months old now). Now, we’re trying to get pregnant, and I am terrified of it happening again. It’s not a fun club to be a part of.
Sending you love and prayers.

My heart aches while I read your last post & I sobbed reading this post-being taken right back to March 4, 2010 & the days that followed. Telling my boys was THE SINGLE MOST difficult thing I EVER had to do. They were 13 & 10; my youngest had asked me before he knew anything was wrong how I would feel IF anything did actually go wrong silence & my best poker face, knowing what I was about to tell them. As I broke the horrific news to them my youngest screamed and shook uncontrollably. He buried himself under blankets and would not look at me. After a long time he finally spoke, saying it was his fault for thinking anything bad could happen. Of course we told him these things don’t happen like that and reassured him over & over, but at the time in his mind it was because of what he said. It change me forever too!
Hang in there and PLEASE know during this dark and most difficult time that you have friends out there that know what you are experiencing and we are here!
((hugs))

Sending you another hug today. It’s been hard reading about what you’ve been going through. Hard to be so far away from you even though we’ve never met in person. Wish there was something I could do to make you feel better but we’re both smart enough to know there isn’t. Keeping you in my thoughts sweet friend. ♥

My heart breaks for you as I read this. Sometimes words truly can’t console so hoping heart to heart you know how much we’re all thinking of you.

All my hugs and love. Nothing I could possibly write here could come close to what I feel for you and what I would give to you if it were in my power. What I *can* do is read and listen and support, and I will most certainly be doing that.

I am very sorry after hearing this heart breaking news. My best advice to you that, don’t be frustrated and be the brave one. Because life bears happiness and sorrow both and this is life.

Love. I cried when I read this. My heart is so sad for you and all three of your wonderful beautiful babies. You are such a great mother raising them with such compassion and big hearts. I’m so sorry. You inspire me and I thank you for being so brave to share this.

I’ve been thinking of you constantly and praying often. Xoxo

I’m in tears reading this…. There will never be any words to say to make you feel better, but I’m thinking of you and wish you all the strength to get through this. Love Daisy

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im so sorry for your loss…..although i don’t belong to your club i have too many friends that do…..im so sorry for you and your family at this time of sadness…my thoughts and prayers are with you…

im so sorry for your loss….although i don’t belong to your club i have too many friends that do…….im so sorry for you and your family at this time of sadness….my thoughts and prayers are with you….

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