Forever burned into my brain.
The day I found out my baby had died.
Three in a row.
I will never know.
I had been in four weeks prior.
I had heard the heartbeat.
But, I had known.
Something was wrong.
I just knew it.
My son had driven me to the Dr.s appointment.
I knew. I knew it was going to end bad.
I checked in and waited to go back.
The nurse came and got me. She sent me straight in for a urine sample.
While I was in there I got the first sign of the impending nightmare.
I went back to the nurse's station and she took all my stats. I didn't mention the spotting.
I didn't want to acknowledge it.
Then I was ushered back to the exam room.
The Dr. came in with a smile.
I tried to smile, but I was fighting the tears.
I was scared to death.
He chatted for a few minutes about my symptoms.
I never mentioned the spotting.
Then he got out the doppler.
The nightmare became real.
He couldn't find the heartbeat.
I was sent to another office in the building for an ultrasound.
The receptionist at my Dr.s office walked me down to the other office.
Not standard procedure.
But I was an emotional train wreck at this point.
I tried so hard to hold it together when we checked in in the ultrasound office.
But I was failing miserably.
I was reminded of a time I sat in the waiting room at my Maternal Fetal Group's office.
A mother came out the hall door, into the waiting room in tears.
Not just the silent kind, that just roll down your cheeks,
but, the kind that are accompanied by sobs.
The poor woman then had to stand there in the room and wait for the elevator to arrive.
Every other mother had to try and hide their evident panic for this woman,
and their selves.
If it could happen to her, it could happen to us.
I will forever wonder if everything turned out okay for her and her unborn child.
My nurse checked me in, and the ushered me into the back immediately.
I went into a darkened room, and the technician started the ultrasound.
I could see the baby.
Perfect fetal position.
But, no heartbeat.
My baby had died.
My baby had died at 12 weeks.
The same week we heard the heartbeat.
Four weeks ago, my baby had died.
I went back down to the Dr.s office.
We sat in his office and he went over the next steps with me.
He knew from my previous m/c that I would probably want to have it at home.
He let me know that if I needed anything to call the office.
Gave me all the prerequisite warnings.
I could hemorrhage, etc.
I left the office and went out to the parking lot where my son was waiting in the car.
(19 and not interested in sitting in a room with a bunch of pregnant women)
I called my husband and told him the news.
Here we go again.
I finally passed the baby 14 days later.
My baby had already been gone for 6 weeks.
It didn't make it any easier to have this knowledge.
It didn't make it any easier to bury my baby in a makeshift casket.
Under the tree.
Next to her brother.
It never gets any easier.