Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Like {he} was nothing

Last night as I laid restless at bedtime, my heart and mind went straight to March 22, 2008, the day I found out that Nehemiah no longer lived, yet he still was in my womb {lifeless}.

{March 22, 2008}
I still remember it was my 12-week appointment with my midwife. I brought my camera so that I could record her using the doppler on my belly as she listened to the heartbeat so that R could listen to him after he got home from work.  I was so excited and ready since my last appointment on February 7, 2008, at 7 weeks and 2 days, had a very strong heartbeat. So this 12-week appointment was pretty exciting for me. {Little did I know...} As I started my camera she began to check for the heartbeat to find {nothing}. She then wiped my belly off from the gel and asked me to turn off my camera. She began the ultrasound machine and had me wait for the OB on call. As I laid there not understanding, she said "just pray honey" and she hugged me. The OB came in with her cute pregnant self and the silence was so honestly heartbreaking as if they already new. She found my baby laying in my womb with no life. Her words to me "I am so sorry but your baby no longer has a heartbeat, you had what we call a missed miscarriage."

{It is well with my soul}

My midwife helped me call my husband but of course I couldn't get a hold of him. I then called a wife of our company and she was able to have my husband call me. Since I had to wait for him they had me wait in an OB doctors office.

This is why I write this blog today: They treated me as if my baby was nothing. My heart breaks even now {again} and anger and sadness musters up in my heart. Why put me in a OB doctors office that is decorated in a "baby" theme, pictures of beautiful pregnant woman giving birth, and brand new bundles of joy? No one should have to go thru such a painful experience and then be put in that type of room.

My husband arrived and the OB gave me 3 options:

1.  D&C {didn't want one because I heard it can cause scarring, I already have infertility issues with a bicornuate uterus}

2.  Wait it out and release baby on my own {didn't want this since they figured he had passed in my womb at around my 8th week and it can become toxic}

3.  Medication that will help you release fetus {I picked this one} DO NOT RECOMMEND!

Why on earth did I pick this again? Because I didn't know any better and I didn't want a D&C due to more infertility problems.

After taking the medication, I began to release my baby 8 hrs later, and then I ended up having an emergency D&C the day after to get rid of any remains since I began to hemorrhage at home. That is why I do not recommend the medication {Cytotec}.

My new journey in life and hope is that I can begin some type of organization, where those who will walk the very same heartbreaking journey will go in it knowing that they will have that support, and not just here are some medications or let's do a D&C and your done. I want to be able to see a difference in hospitals. My loss happened in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri and I feel now that things could of been different. A fetus with a heartbeat is {LIFE!} I was growing {LIFE} in me for 12-weeks. They treated him like he was nothing...

This is what I would love to see in hospitals, birthing centers, etc...

1.  Have a section in the hospital where someone like me and many others can begin the grieving process. Of course at that point it is more like a shock. Not in a room decked out in "baby" theme, labor pictures, beautiful bumps, and newly born babies.

2.  Have counselors, chaplain, some type of support group to be able to give you handouts, memorial boxes, support groups, events, anything that will help in this {new} journey. I walked out with medication and that was IT!

3.  Be able to have a memorial even if you were just 12-weeks pregnant, be able to save your baby's remains to be able to have him/her cremated. I mean my baby lived with a heartbeat for goodness sake! I didn't have any idea what to do...

With all that said, my sweet Nehemiah I am so sorry I lost you the way I did, in a cold and horrible way in a bathroom. If I would of {had} the knowledge from a support group or a counselor from the hospital prior to me leaving with medications I think I would of been able to {keep} him in a beautiful urn or even a necklace holding his ashes.

It Is Well With My Soul,

In Memory of my cousin, Paul


::In Memory of Nehemiah::

Click to play this Smilebox slideshow
Create your own slideshow - Powered by Smilebox
Digital slideshow generated with Smilebox

Check out my sweet::Sister in Christ::Emily J. Johnson Music

Sisterhood of Loss & Support