When you find out you are pregnant you give thought to when that baby will come into this world. I can tell you that most don’t think about their baby coming into this world already dead. Coming into a world where you will never see it. Where a doctor will, thankfully, sedate you and take your dead baby away. A funeral home will take the baby away with other babies just like it.
No, you don’t want to think about this moment but your brain will go there when you enter those hospital doors. I walked in on a bright Monday afternoon, ready to get this day over with. I walked by the woman with her new baby tucked in a car seat, ready for its first ride home. Couldn’t there be a separate door for us and them? I sat at the registration desk where a lady took my information and snapped bracelets on me.
We were directed to the elevator. I was to go to the second floor. If I hit the button to the fourth floor that would be the baby NICU. My friend sat there in that moment with her baby that came nine weeks early. Her baby that came into the world too early in the same week my babies heart stopped. I just didn’t know my babies heart stopped that week. Her baby was living and thriving. The doors opened on the second floor. Marilyn was right there to great us like we were told. She was to direct us to our room. She gave us her apologies. I was getting sick of everyone’s apologies, mainly because there was nothing but silence to fill after that.
We were left to our room where I undressed and was settled into a bed. My Husband asked what I wanted to watch on TV because we had to fill the silence. There had been silence all day because we had talked about everything else inside and out. There was nothing left to say.
Nurses filtered in and out. Explained what their job would be, gave their apologies, inserted IV, asked questions and more questions. I was so fucking hungry and itchy. We were left alone for long periods of time. The clock slowed down. We were in a corner room where it felt like I had the plague, that is what it had come to feel like. Like everyone knew, it was written on my face and everyone just stared-the lady with the dead baby-what happened?
My Husband held my hand. We watched HGTV. More nurses, more paperwork. We were told about some paperwork that would be coming and there it was; what to do with the remains of our child. The nurse handed the clip board to my Husband when I was done with it and said Dad, you need to sign off on this as well. That was the first time he had been called Dad in reference to this child by someone other than me. Not what you think will happen the day you find out you are pregnant. His first child and now he was signing off on what to do with the remains.
They finally came to get me. I was ready, I wanted it over with. They finally put the stuff in my IV that would help me go away from it all for a bit. Even if it was for a short time. I woke up in recovery where they quickly took me to my Husband and that was it. 45 minutes later I was loaded with medication, instructions, papers, prescriptions and wheeled in a wheelchair downstairs. I sat with a nurse while my Husband went to get the truck. Another Mom was waiting with her baby for her Husband. Seriously, could they get a separate door for those of us who just had a dead baby? I realized I said this out loud by the horror on the woman’s face and my nurse patted my back.
There wasn’t much to say by the time we were home. I felt empty, I still do as I sit here today, the day after, stuck resting on the couch. I can’t sleep. I’m up at all hours. I had ordered some free baby items at the baby fair before this and they showed up today. I couldn’t open them, just stuffed them in a closet. In the closet where I stuffed other items that had been purchased along with a baby book that said what day we found out we were pregnant. I had to delete the app and emails on my phone from expectant websites that send daily reminders that I no longer need. I still had baby shower invites to address and get out for a friend. I robotically did that this morning. I go back to work tomorrow. We need groceries. Laundry needs done. I ignored it and called my travel agent, we need to get away, I explained.
We need to move forward and are ready to but this is something that can’t be rushed. My body won’t allow it, nor my brain. I have to refocus my mind. Our plans have changed and our lives have changed, never to be the same again. We have both been through bad things in our lives, I have been at rock bottom before, I have had my life changed in the blink of an eye before, I know how to get up, learn from life’s ass kickin’s and move on. I know we are tough. Life will move forward but now we just have a butterfly baby.
8 thoughts on “The Monday of Nightmares”
It certainly can’t be rushed 😦 you seem angry and I understand. I hope you’re okay. Reading this took me right back to when I was hospital. The raw emotions that almost make you sick. I’m sorry this happened. I know you’re sick of hearing it but I understand everything you’re feeling.x
*sigh* this breaks my heart. what an experience to have to go through. Entirely too difficult, especially with all of these other moms milling about. there should definitely be a separate door. I hope you are slowly beginning to heal mentally and physically. xoxox.
I found deleting those apps and emails one of the worst things. They would be the first thing I wanted to read when I woke up, and deleting them felt final. And yes, you will see mums and babies everywhere, and if you are anything like me you will hate them and then hate yourself for being so horrible. I really hope your days start getting easier. You will never ever forget but it certainly does get easier. My thoughts are with you and your husband. X