I've been Avoiding

My therapist wants me to write about my miscarriage experience. I have mild post traumatic stress disorder. When I think about that day the bloody scene in the bathroom at the hospital flashes through my head and bothers me greatly. So here it goes my miscarriage story:

I had gotten my flu shot on Tuesday and began to spot lightly about 3 hours later. I called the doctors office on Wednesday just for peace of mind. I was 11 weeks pregnant and told that spotting is normal at that point in pregnancy and the flu shot connection was only a coincidence. As the week went on my spotting continued and I thought nothing of it. On Saturday I start mild cramping. Still not really thinking much of it. Sunday I just felt someone wasn't right the cramping got much worse I called the doctor's office to talk to the on call person. I was told that it sounded like I was miscarrying and if I began to bleed so heavy that I filled more than two pads an hour I should go to the ER. Never did I expect what was about to happen to me.

I was sitting on the couch when I felt the rush of blood. I went to the bathroom sat on the toilet and just began to cry I was loosing very large amounts of blood and tissue more like about 2 pads worth every 10 mins. I sat on the toilet until my husband arrived at home to take me to the ER. On the way to the ER I bleed trough my clothes. I was so very freaked out.

I arrived at the ER walking in funny because blood was running down my leg. My husband went to park the car. The lady sat me in a wheelchair and I waiting to see the intake person. I wait and bled in the chair. I got to see the intake person she started asking me standard questions name, address, etc. I said I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood and tissue she responded your communicating just fine. The snack man came around and she was more interested in getting her twizzlers than doing my intake. I was starting to think I was in another land and wondering is this normal? She then got cold and asked her boss if she could turn up the heat all the time I'm sitting there bleeding out. I thought to myself is this really happening. Twizzler and Heat are more important than a miscarrying patient. On top of everything the woman was the slowest typist I'd ever seen (in the ER really?) So I expressed to her again. I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood and tissue. Her response oh do you need to change your pad. Let me get you a volunteer. (I was just thinking remain calm because I wanted to make sure I got good treatment and if I had gotten hysterical I was afraid it would delay things). So a volunteer with two tiny pads wheels me into the public bathroom of the waiting room of the ER. I continued to think is this really happening to me? I felt like I was in some kind of weird movie. So I'm in one of the stalls of the public ER bathroom and as I move from the chair to the toilet and pull down my pants there is a large splash. Blood is on me, the floor, the walls, the toilet. I was more freaked out about the amount of blood in that moment than I was about the fact that I was miscarrying. This is the picture that flashes though my head when I think of that day. It was like a horror movie scene with the amount of blood.

The volunteer now realizes the seriousness of my situation. She is praying over me which I found comforting. She went and got some nurses. She looked at the pads and said I don't think these will work. So I strip down in the public stall in the bathroom they give me gowns to put on and put down a large diaper on the wheel chair. I am then wheeled through the waiting room of the ER crying with blood everywhere and in gowns. I just couldn't believe it. I then hear them over the loud speaker say several times about the clean up needed in the bathroom and I apologized for the mess. I was so embarrassed.

At this point the most traumatic physical part of things is over. I'm put on a bed with lots of large pads laid out. But what I didn't understand was why I was left to just sit in my own blood and feeling the tissue my body kept passing. It's so hard to understand. So as you can guess I needed a D&C. My doctor who did it was wonderful and made sure that I knew it was not my vault there was nothing I did wrong. I really liked the way it said things though I can't remember exact wording.

I did have to stay overnight. No big deal however I was surprised when I left the hospital the nurse said to me are you ok. I said I'm as well as can be expected. I was sent home with no information or support on what I was about to go through emotionally.

That is where this part of the story ends and the rest of this blogging begins. My journey to emotional healing.

Something that comforts me

God spoke to me and this is what he said:
My child these tears I cry for you,
for I am a God of mercy
and I lost a child too.
for your child did not suffer
and my son died in vein
I am a God that's gracious in so many ways,
yes I took you child
but not because of anything you've done.
I gave you the chance to make me an angel
the greatest gift a mother can give to her God.
The mothers of my angels are special
that's why I choose you
but I'll let you in on a little secret
that will bring a smile to your face.
When your child was in heaven
before I sent it your way
your baby was my special angel
that I promised a perfect mommy
so as I set down and opened "the mommy book"
that precious little angel took just one look
and said "God I want that one to be my Mommy"
I looked with tears in my eyes
and said sorry no can do
that mommy she's not for you
"why is that" the little angel asked
I replied "for that mommy her baby will not survive"
the little angel looked up at me with tears in his eyes
"but please God for her . . I would die"
for I could tell the angel was so sincere
despite what I told him I sent him here.
As a smile crossed my cheek
a tear rolled down my face
to know of all the mommies in the whole wide world
that special little angel chose me.
- this is something that I found on the internet (I wish I could take credit for it)
A Mother Questions God Link to video

Memorial Rock

I painted this rock on 10/01/09 in memory of my little angel. I find painting to be very therapeutic for me. The sad part is just last week the glaze on the pink heart began to crack and flake off. The symbolism behind it was very fitting because my heart is breaking and I too feel like I'm falling apart like my rock started to do.

Why do people act like nothing happened?

My baby was taken Home to God Sept 27, 2009. During that first week people were very supportive and kind. Now no one wants to talk about it or even acknowledge it. So is that all a grieving mother gets is one week? How is my loss any different than someone who losses a toddler or teenager? Do I not grieve the same did I not lose a precious child? Just because my child never got to walk or crawl this earth doesn't mean they weren't just as special. This is something that hurts me greatly. The way others act makes me feel like my baby was less valued than say a toddler or teenager would be valued. Just feeling a little misunderstood and brokenhearted.

One Week

Dear Tristan,

It has been one week since you were taken Home. I think of you often and mourn my loss. During this week I have found that this experience has brought me closer to God. My little darling who knew that you leaving me before I met you would draw me closer to the being that created you, me and life as I know it. For the first time in my life I find comfort in the Lord during a very difficult time. I place no blame on myself, no blame on you, no blame on others, no blame on God; I just accept it for what it is a loss I can't explain. Through this loss I have gained so much. I have gained a love for God I never thought I would have. I have felt the love God gives. His presence is so real to me. He is touching my heart and soul and wrapping them in love and protection while still allowing me to feel the hurt just enough that I can handle. And when my grief is bigger than me He holds me just a bit tighter and reminds me that in time the hurt will lessen and that it is ok to feel and ok to cry. My tears are therapy, my tears are for you, my tears are for me, my tears are for the immense love God has given me. It is so hard to explain crying in sadness one moment and then just when I can't handle the pain any longer I begin to cry because of the grand love I am filled with.

My little Angel you never got to enter into this world but you have touched my life and made me grow as a person. You have changed me. I will never again be the same person. I am your Mother. Though my arms did not carry you my heart will carry you forever. You made me see that I am surrounded by wonderful people who care more about me that I thought people could care. You have shown me that I can fill those holes that have been in my heart for years. Through you I have experienced the caring and love that others humans can provide. Through you my wall to the outside world has come down a little more. Through you I am more open to receive the love and support from others. Children are gifts and though you never got the gift of life you were still able to be a gift to me. My gift, my baby, my heart.

Love,
Mommy