I went to work the following Monday after we found about Sweet Pea. It was the hardest and probably best thing I could have done. In addition to providing private music therapy services, I also teach music at a local preschool. It's funny to me how perceptive kiddos are... I put on my professional face and delved into the much needed distraction of bringing music to preschoolers. In the middle of one of my classes, one of my three year olds ran up to me and gave the biggest hug and said "tonight you can come to my house." I laughed and said "I don't know about that..." I didn't have the heart to correct the behavior of her interrupting my class because I so needed that hug from a little one. She continued this trend for about 2-3 weeks and it is something that I treasure in my heart. None of my other kiddos did it, but every week she made a point to hug me and say something incredibly sweet. I needed it... Funny how the smallest child can minister healing to a broken adult.
I went in for my pre-op on the morning of Tuesday, January 29th... I had done a significant amount of research about D&Cs and my biggest question was when could Kevin and I start 'trying' again. They began by taking me into that cursed ultrasound room again to confirm that Sweet Pea did not have a heartbeat. They confirmed this... I can't remember if I cried then or not... I don't know if I was just so numb that I waited to cry until we got back to the car or if the tears snuck out when I was forced to go back to that room.
The doctor was not the most compassionate in the world. He was all business and became quickly frustrated when his computer would not work correctly. He basically broke down the procedure, told me not to eat or drink anything after a certain time, no medications, blah blah blah. He then told us that we were to wait for me to have 2 periods before we started 'trying' again. I asked him why we had to wait. He stated that my uterus needed to essentially clear out everything and start afresh. I, being the ever questioning individual that I am, was not satisfied with that answer. It didn't make sense to me at all. If my body was unable to sustain a pregnancy then what would it matter if we began "trying" before 2 periods because my body wouldn't sustain the pregnancy. And if the uterine lining wasn't 'primed' then the fertilized egg wouldn't attach and I definitely wouldn't sustain the pregnancy, right? ... At least those were my musing... Mind you, I am no doctor, just someone who doesn't always take what is told to them at face value. I resolved to ask another doctor about it later.
I was still bleeding pretty heavily at this point and had been told on multiple occasions to go the ER if the bleeding became too substantial... They would perform an emergency D&C at the ER. Problem was that I didn't really know what exactly was "too substantial". I questioned my pre-op doctor about how I would know if I should go to the ER. He said "oh you'll know." That was a terrible answer for me. My D&C was schedule for very early the following morning, January 30th... During the middle of the night, I began to bleed heavily and had the most horrendous cramps... I think in retrospect, I probably should have gone to the ER at that point, but I just kept telling myself to wait it out. My surgery was scheduled for the early morning so I could hold on till then. The doctor telling me that I would know was absolutely worthless. I didn't know what to do... My world had spiraled so out of control, I was at a loss for what actions I should take and when I should take them.
My mom flew in from Kansas to the ATL to be with Kevin and I... I cannot begin to tell you how much of a blessing she was to us during that time. I needed her there and I think Kevin needed her there too. The doctor who did my pre-op was not the same doctor scheduled to complete my surgery. The doctor who completed my surgery looked like a rockstar wannabe. (SIDE NOTE: I feel like there is at least one rockstar wannabe OB-GYN in every practice... Does anyone else feel that way?? They all look the same too... Variations of long hair, often times jewelry or ear piercings, and they always want to high five you... Like seriously?? Please tell me I'm not crazy here and someone else has experienced this too!) I met him briefly before going to the OR. He said to me shortly before they wheeled me away "you know, you don't have to do this." All I could think was "okay, doc as I'm already here and already IV'ed up... We are doing this."
I loved my nurse. She was from Germany, I believe, and she was the kindest, sweetest soul. She took care of me so thoroughly and I wish that I could remember her name so I could thank her for loving on me when I was falling apart. She was a precious gift. Likewise, the anesthesiologist was wonderful. He was so encouraging and said to me before he administered the medicine "next time I see you will be for an epidural." I don't plan to have a medicated labor/delivery, but the sentiment behind his words was like balm to my aching soul. There would be a next time. There would be another baby.
I remember being wheeled to the OR and lifted onto the table... And then I remember waking up with about 10 nurses surrounding me in phase 1 recovery. There were so many of them that at first I thought something had gone terribly wrong, but they assured me everything was fine. I know I cried then. One of the nurses stuck a box of tissues on top of me. I took that box of tissues home with me and that became the running joke between me and my mom. It was our $1000 box of tissues.
They then wheeled me in the bed to phase 2 recovery where I was put in a recliner. When I stood up the amount of blood on the bed frightened me a bit. The nurses brought me a Diet Coke to drink and Kevin and mom came to see me. I cried even more when they walked into my room.
I don't know how long we stayed there. Time really made no sense to me at that point. All I know is that eventually they made Kevin go get the car, they put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me out to him. I don't remember anything about the drive home or getting home.
In addition to the box of tissues, I got to keep my pillow. I actually really like that pillow and still use it today.
As I tell you this part, all I can think is that there were such little gifts from God to keep me afloat sprinkled throughout this whole experience. I don't know that I even recognized them until I sat down to type this... The kindness of the nurse, the encouragement from the anesthesiologist, the laughter about the world's most expensive (and yet cheaply made) box of tissues, my little preschooler's weekly hugs, my mom coming to take care of me... I do believe all those things were designed to keep me going when I thought I was drowning. Little nuggets that weren't huge and at that point in time weren't really noticeable, but looking back I can now see that God really was trying to minister to my broken heart through those acts. I was never alone even if I felt isolated from everyone and everything. And you, my dear reader, are not alone either.
Love,
Jess
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