I woke up this morning with drier eyes unlike yesterday morning when everything I see around the house seemed to drive me to tears: The cushion where I use to seat talking to JJ as he starts growing in my womb, the food and drinks that Bong eats but I kept myself from consuming to make sure no harm however little will come near my baby, the strange smelling vitamins I had to close my eyes to take in, just so that baby will have all the nutrients he needs to develop; even the toilet bowl where I spent a lot of time sitting on, because I had to drink quarts and quarts of water so that baby will have enough water to drink so his lungs, and limbs and digestive system may develop perfectly, the seven pillows in my bed where I use to put my legs up and the veges in my fridge, food that I hate but I eat anyway for JJ -- all of these bring tears to my eyes. But today, my second day home with an empty womb, I felt that I am slowly adjusting to the lost. I only teared once today, compared to yesterday's constant tearing except when there were people who came to my door to hear my story.
It was just like yesterday when I woke up sore all over. I knew right away that something good has happened to me, but just to make sure, I checked and I saw two purple lines, very defined, bold purple lines in the home pregnancy test that Bong bought for me-- a clear indication that I have become pregnant after months of suffering from a previous one, and almost five years of trying. I was so happy I told everyone the good news right away. A month of pure bliss and inspired days came and went.
February 5th, while having lunch after a fairly heavy translation checking, I started bleeding. I panicked and started calling two OB-Gynes one after the other. One told me to go straight to bed and not move a muscle and one told me to go straight to the hospital where I was told to undergo a scan. We did just that and I was told that mine might be a blighted ovum-- positive pregnancy test but no embryo. I was instructed to come again after two weeks. I did and to my happy surprise, a strong heartbeat was appreciated in the scan, but still the bleeding dampened the good news. Yet there was nothing to do but to stay positive, prayerful, and be hopeful for the best.
Every visit to the sonologist, a new problem was found. First, a subchorionic bleeding. The next visit, a decidual bleeding, third, an inadequate amniotic fluid, fourth, and the last, an ever decreasing amniotic fluid, yet inspite of all those problems, I kept telling myself that the Lord will show his almighty deeds by letting me deliver a healthy baby in spite of all the problems that had occured in the course of the pregnancy. I convinced myself that I kind of have a gut feeling that I will have a healthy baby boy in my arms by August, September or early October.
But after I got out from the hospital in May 15th, my bleeding pattern and its consistency changed. Since I first started bleeding in Feb 5th, the pattern was that I would bleed for a day or two, and spot for 4 days or so. The spotting was always of old blood. After May 15th, the blood was always scarlet fresh and it won't let up. The week before I lost my baby, terrible aches and pains that I have never had before started to attack me. Still, I kept talking to the Lord to hold my baby in place and give him 8 more weeks at least to give him a chance to live even if he comes out prematurely.
On May 28, the pain in my lower abdomen became so intense that I had to stay in bed while my colleagues were holding a meeting on the other side of my bedroom, that I had to talk to them through the window. Still, I kept telling myself that the Lord is too good to let me and my baby get this far just so he could 'abandon' us near the finish line.
I woke up at around 4AM on June 1st, Monday. The day before, I told my friends and family who gathered in church that Sunday how thankful I was for another month that JJ has survived inside me. It was not a walk in the park, rather a difficult, complex, tricky and heartbreaking crawl in a dark subterranean cave. But we made it! Just a few more weeks and JJ can come anytime he feels like and he'd have a chance. Yet that was not to be because early that morning, sharp pain on my lower back and lower tummy kept plaguing me. The pain came some moments apart at the beginning, but by 6AM, they were coming at 1.5 minute intervals. Then and there, I told myself to accept the fact that the battle was over for JJ and me and our fight for his life.
I asked Bong to call my doctor and the doctor said I should get to the hospital right away. We got on the truck, my mind a blur of intense pain, grief at the loss of my baby, and worry because Bong was pushing the old truck at 90km/hr when he only just learn how to drive and the old truck felt like the strong wind coming at us would rip it apart. A few minutes before we reach the hospital, I felt the pain became more tolerable and concentrated on the center of my lower tummy. I knew then that this is it. I was alone in the front seat, nervous because Bong kept looking sideways to check on me that I began to navigate for him, telling him to hit the break, honk the horn, not to overtake, etc., although I know that he was also very focused on the road, being the unbelievably careful person that he is.
At around 7:45, my tense muscles relaxed, the pain was gone, and I saw my baby's little head underneath the folds of my skirt. My mind went blank. I told my mom who was sitting at the back that the baby is out. She let out a cry of anguish then I hurried to reassure her that it's okay and that everything will be alright. Fearing her hypertension, I was so worried that she might have a stroke or something.
We arrived at the emergency room door, where the orderly was insisting that I get into a wheelchair. Of course that's impossible, what with my baby hanging between my legs. Bong pulled a stretcher and wheeled me inside the hospital. They took me straight to the Delivery Room, where I got into a word war with a nurse who thinks that I was very impolite not giving consistent answers to her questions when there were three of them asking me three different questions at the same time, when all I was doing was just waiting for another pain to subside before I formulate an answer. Yes, the pain came back again, blood oozing like from an open faucet, flowing on to the surface of the stretcher down to its legs, to its wheels, then to the floor. At that moment, I wanted so bad to be the nurse... a kinder , gentler nurse, practicing the code of tender loving care, but I wasn't fortunate enough. Haha!
Thankfully, I heard a familiar, sympathetic voice--that of my doctor. I shut up after I told the cruel nurse to have some heart. My doctor told them I am also one of them. So they started calling me "Ma'am" instead of "MRS" (in a very condescending tone). (sigh) Funny!! Very unfortunate! In the course of these events, they cut my baby's cord, and the placenta was now out. Now, my doctor was telling me that she needs to clean up my womb or else I would bleed to death but that since I ate breakfast and my BP was 70/50, I will have to endure the curettage without any anesthetics or sedatives. I was horrified, I'm sure I looked at my doctor with wild, wide eyes as if saying, "Are you out of your mind?" They sent someone to look for a type B blood at the bank or a donor if there is nothing on the fridge.
In the end I convinced the doctor that I only had a little bite of toast, and half a liter of water, so they can give me a spinal even without the sedative. They called an anesthesiologist and he was convinced that it's better to risk it and numb me than to send me into shock with the pain that they were about to inflict on me, considering the painful contractions that I had already suffered for the last few hours. But no sedatives for me or else I would go into hypotension, or worse hurl while asleep and literally choke on my own v_m_t. Sedatives aren't very effective on me anyway. I remember staying awake and singing while I was being laparotomically explored when my tubal pregnancy ruptured last year. The procedure was quite simple, anyway, it was just routine curettage, but boy, was it very painful even with the shot I was given. My mind went woozy and I was verrrrrrry tired.
While I was undergoing the curettage, the 'heartless' nurse
said she's taking my baby out to my family. I just nod my head without understanding. Yes, this is one of the things I regret and makes me cry when I think about it. I did not even see the whole body of my baby. I was not able to hold him even for a little while. I was tied to the bed right at the time I was wheeled into the DR. But I should have told the nurse to let me see and hold my baby even for few moments.
At around 9AM, I was wheeled into the Recovery Room where I stayed paralyzed from the waist down until 5PM. I was supposed to be taken out to the ward after two hours of stable vital signs but I was left there alone to wonder if they have forgotten about me. At a quarter to five, a nurse came and told me that they cannot find a doctor to give the order to transport me out of the room to my family who's been waiting for ages for some news about me since they brought me in that morning.
I was sure my husband would wait for me before he does anything to our JJ so I was worried that a whole day of keeping the baby in a roll of gauze in the hospital would present some problems. When I was finally taken to the ward at around 5PM, only my cousin was there. I learned later that Bong had to take the baby home because the smell was already attracting flies into the waiting room. The reality sank in to me that I was not able to see my baby even for the last time. Bong did offer to bring the baby back to the hospital so I can see him and have my cousin bring the little body back home so that my parents can bury him, but I thought Bong probably wants to be the one to do that to help him have a closure. So I just told my cousin to text Bong back with some instructions as to where to bury our baby and to take some pictures that I can look at when I finally get back home. Bong and Mom buried JJ at around 5:30PM under a siniguelas tree just outside our bedroom window.
It warms my heart that Bong went to town today to have a stone made to mark the grave of our little JJ. The stone will simply read:
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Many days have passed me by
I also used canned mushroom instead of fresh. I also let it simmer on my stove instead of in the oven as I do not have an oven-safe pot, and I'm saving gas. :-) hehe
One Sunday last month, my sister and I went to help our brothers bring in their tomatoes from the farm. We reached the farm and found out that they were already done harvesting so we were only able
to help in washing the fruits (or veges if you will) and classifying them into small, medium, and big ones. Boy, did I enjoy the hike and the fresh air up in the mountains, and the free ripe guavas as well which are so plentiful in the hills of my little village, Mapayao.
