Remembering..... (part 3)

Mourning the loss of a child during early pregnancy can be difficult. It is an ambiguous loss....no one knew the child and most people didn't even know you were pregnant. Even my husband and I were affected in completely different ways by the loss. He could not understand the depth of my grief. While I was bonding with our baby as soon as I took a pregnancy test, Chris did not feel that same connection. As a result, the loss was far greater for me.

I found myself wanting to, in some way, memorialize our four lost children. Anything to reinforce my feeling that they did exist and to show that I was affected deeply by their loss. That Christmas as I was shopping for the traditional yearly Christmas ornament for Shelby and Caleb, I found myself drawn to a clear crystal angel ornament. I brought it home and placed it on our tree as my way of saying "you were real, and I will always remember".

Birthstone necklaces with little kid shaped charms were all the rage that year. Chris and the kids had given me one for Mother's day with a little girl and a little boy to represent Shelby and Caleb. I went out and bought 3 little angels and one more little girl to represent the babies we had lost. I put them all on the chain, then couldn't wear it. It depressed me.....it was a clear visual that the odds were distinctly against me. I packed the little charms away in my jewelry box because even if I couldn't wear them, there was some comfort in having them nearby.

In early January, Chris changed jobs and we had to move across country. Part of me wanted to move.....I needed a fresh slate, somewhere new that didn't have all the sad memories. Another part of me was scared to death to leave my doctor. I know I was just another patient to him, and really, he had terrible bedside manner, but I was counting on him to help me through this. I wasn't sure if I could be successful without him.

Before we moved, I went in for one last appointment. Dr. Branch had finally gotten the results of the last blood test in and it appeared I had something called Antiphospholipid Syndrome. Basically, my blood was forming very small clots which were only evidenced at the placental level. The treatment was to use heparin shots throughout my pregnancy to thin my blood. I was thrilled to know there was an answer to all these losses, and I could do something about it. I was also even more terrified to move. Dr. Branch recommended that I go to a medical school whenever we got settled in and seek out a perinatologist there to help me on my way. I walked out with my medical records and turned my attention toward moving my small family.

We arrived in North Carolina in late January with our moving van and nowhere to go. We found a hotel for the night with the intention of looking for an apartment the next day. I knew I was a few days late on my cycle, but with all the stress of moving, hadn't really worried about it. However, the next morning curiousity got the best of me and I went out and bought a pregnancy test. I was living in a hotel and I was pregnant.

I called the nearest medical school, which was and hour away, and tried to explain my situation to the appointment scheduler. I desperately needed to be on heparin so this baby would not die. The scheduler did not want to bring me in before 12 weeks, but I finally talked her down to 8 weeks. We found a place to live, and in the hustle and bustle of unloading our moving van and settling in, I started to show signs of miscarriage at 5 1/2 weeks. When I called the medical school, they brought me right in.....but it was too late.

Another still ultrasound, another lost baby. The count was now up to five.

It was a difficult transition. I felt so alone with the kids all day in our new apartment. My parents had been a 4 1/2 hr. drive away from us before and had helped out during many of my previous miscarriages, but now I found myself on the other side of the country. It was rainy season and I was a desert girl.....I craved the sunshine and the continual rain was not helping lift my spirits. I felt myself spiralling into depression.

The one thing I had going for me was that the head perinatologist at the medical school had seen my records and gave me the number of his personal secretary to contact the next time I was pregnant. Apparently he had gone to a conference on recurrent miscarriage where Dr. Branch was a speaker and he was so thrilled to be seeing one of "Dr. Branch's patients". I knew I was very close to quitting, but just having a doctor on my side gave me courage to try one more time.

I could write all day, but let me just say that the next three pregnancies were incredibly high risk, but successful. All of my heartfelt prayers were heard and answered. The time table was not mine, but the Lord's, and He knew what he was doing all along. I was blessed with two more boys and a girl. I have the family that I had always hoped for. I cherish each one of my children and am so greatful for the gift I have been given.

I did try again though, after Savannah was born. It was very reminiscent of my previous miscarriages. Once again, I saw a beating heart on ultrasound at 6 wks. and once again was reassured by my OB that this was a very good sign and everything would be fine. He agreed to do a 7 week ultrasound to reassure me and I took 2 yr. old Savannah with me to hold my hand. The doctor said "I'm sure everything is just fine" right before he started the ultrasound. It was followed very quickly by a "Hmmmmm...." The screen was still.

I held it together beautifully till I got to the car, buckled Savannah in her car seat, then fell apart. I must have cried in that parking lot for half an hour. I mentally said my goodbye's and then called and scheduled a D&C for the next morning.

Part of me acknowledged that day that I was probably done having children. The drive and the will to continue at all costs was no longer there. I was at peace with the family that I had and was not willing to put myself through the pain of recurrent miscarriage again. I was upset with myself for having even tried one last time. I had put that time in my life behind me and had three happy memories to heal the earlier wounds. Now I was ending on a sad note.

It has been said that time heals all wounds, and indeed that is true. It has been fifteen years since I began this journey, and I can now look back and remember with sweetness and peace. It has been so helpful to write down these memories. Once again, it acknowledges to me that these babies are such a part of me. They have formed the person I have become. As I have put the memories into words, I have been surprised at how clear they still are. That, in itself, is a testament to the importance of these little ones.

They are not forgotten.