Oh dear blog. I don’t know what to say to you. I lost my baby, I was 16 weeks pregnant. Yes I’m blogging about it; it feels impossible to blog about anything else. I’m aware that this isn’t the funniest topic in the world. It puts my dog dying post in perspective.
I feel like I have a deep understanding for the whale who carried her dead calf around for weeks. Don’t worry, I’m not carrying my baby’s body around. Mostly because Captain made sure we said goodbye to her after we held her for hours.
BB does not appreciate my crying. She keeps saying,
“No mommy, don’t cry.”
But TV seems to totally distract her. I can sob in the kitchen as long as Daniel Tiger is on.
And for whatever reason, BB has decided to start sleeping through the night in her room by herself for the first time in almost a year. I don’t know how many days of this to expect, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
I’ve often looked back at BB’s newborn photos and marveled at how tiny she was. Now all I can think about is how huge a full-term baby is compared to our 5″ angel baby.
After she was delivered, the nurse put an ice-pack in my underwear. She said,
“I don’t know if you need this, but I’m doing it just in case.”
No. I don’t need it. BB tore me open from end to end. Angel Baby didn’t have a chance.
Very late in the evening the day our baby was delivered the doctors were inclined to discharge us if we wanted to, but Captain and I felt better staying. I tell the nurse I’d like to take my IV out. She asks me,
“Is it bothering you?”
“Yes, I don’t think I’ll sleep well with it in.” My baby just died, I’m anticipating sleeping about an hour, and it would be nice if this thing wasn’t stuck in my arm.
She hems and haws.
“Well they were going to send you home.”
“Yes. I was thinking that.”
“If you start bleeding a lot, I’ll have to put another one in. No arguments.”
“Of course.” Yes, please save my life, even if it means putting in another IV.
While we were saying goodbye to our angel baby’s body, I had such a stinky fart that I felt compelled to check under the blanket to make sure that’s all it was. After the air cleared, I told Captain,
“I’m impressed at how magnanimously you handled that.”
“I know what it’s like, I’ve farted before.”
My heart is broken wide open. I have no physical pain, yet if it weren’t for BB I’d be hibernating in my bed until further notice.
There’s something to be said for putting clothes on, getting in the car and going to a playgroup. Even if all it proves is that my legs still work.
Two days after we lost Angel Baby at a hospital near the theater district, my iPhone grouped all our photos into an album called “Friday night at the show” and suggested I share it.
I’m sure we’ll try again and I’m not sure you’ll hear about it. In the meantime I’m going to drink some pumpkin beer. It is October and I’m not pregnant.