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I'm a 29 year old chick living in the South. I'm married to Kim - happily married most of the time. Our daughter is 8-year-old Bailyn. I work in the I.S. Department of a nearby hospital. Oh, and I'm a pagan living in the Bible Belt.

I love reading, cuddling with Kim and Bailyn, working with computers, playing The Sims 2, and waiting anxiously for the release of Sims 3.

2008-11-06 - 12:11 a.m.
The Story Of Joshua, Part Two

Here is Part Two of the very sad story I started yesterday. If you can't handle sad, don't read it.

Part 2
After we got past the trauma of the first few weeks, the pregnancy was great. It was incredibly unlike my first pregnancy. I was pathetically exhausted and constantly mildly nauseous, but I enjoyed the pregnancy. I was miserable the entire 9 months when I was pregnant with Bailyn (that�s another story altogether�an eyeroll inducing, somewhat humorous, bizarre story with a happy ending). I bonded with baby #2 the second the 2 pink lines showed up. That�s not to say that I don�t love Bailyn or that I�m not bonded with her. My bond with her developed slowly after she was born�.kind of a slow and steady bonding process as opposed to the instant and irreversible bond I experienced with Baby #2. With Bailyn, I knew from the time the positive test came back that she was a girl and her name came to me a few days later. It wasn�t like I especially wanted a girl; I just KNEW. With #2, I started feeling like it was probably a boy several weeks into it. Gradually, I became more certain. I really didn�t care which gender it was. One of each would have been nice, and so would a matched pair. But still, I knew we were having a boy. As for a name, I was coming up with nothing. Daddy put in for Joshua Alexander, and I thought it was alright. It just wasn�t IT, you know?

My September appointment went perfectly. Heard the heartbeat on the Doppler for the first time. It was strong and steady. They measured my belly, and everything was perfect for the adjusted due date. I started feeling him move about a week after that appointment, and movements quickly became a very regular occurrence. My next appointment was scheduled for Monday, October 13, when I would be 18 weeks. Things moved along nicely for the next 3 � weeks. My belly was growing and I moved from stretchy clothes to maternity clothes the week before my next appointment. The Thursday before my appointment, I felt him bumping around in there several times. The next evening, I realized I hadn�t noticed any movement all day. I thought about it briefly and refused to think about it anymore. It�s amazing how equipped the brain is to sink into immediate, blissful denial.

I had a nice weekend, and went to work Monday morning. I left work shortly after lunch and headed to the doctor�s office. I had a strange apprehension start growing as soon as I left work and got in the car. (The brain�s agitation over knowing that the cocoon of denial it has woven is facing an irrefutable destruction?) By the time I got to the doctor�s office, the feeling of extreme dread was overwhelming. I sat in the waiting room for a short time, and then the midwife (we had already forged a solid bond that persists to this day) stepped out and called my name. I had to fight an overpowering impulse to run for the exit door. Instead I got up and forced myself to walk toward her. I have no idea what expression she may have been looking at, but walking into the back part of that office was the absolute last thing in the world I wanted to do.

As we approached the scale, she asked me how I�d been. �Fine-I-haven�t-felt-him-move-since-Thursday.� Imagine it being said in a rush and monotone. By this time, I�m stepping up on the scale, and she�s adjusting it to check the weight. Her response is a calm, laid-back, �Well, it�s still early. He�s probably just turned toward your back so you can�t feel him right now.� By this time, I�m forcing myself to breathe slowly and deeply. She leads me into the exam room and I get up on the table and lie back. She comes at me with the Doppler. She tries for a couple of minutes and gets nothing. In a cheery tone, she says, �Well, let�s not bother with this. That�s the beauty of having an ultrasound machine in the office. I�ll be right back.� In retrospect, I think she knew then and was hoping against hope that she was wrong.

She came back dragging the ultrasound machine and put the wand on my belly. We immediately saw him. He was there, clear as day�not moving. After (I have no idea how long�.not long, I think), I take my eyes off the screen and look at her. Really quietly, I say, �He�s not moving.� She shakes her head and says, �I can�t make out a heartbeat, but don�t panic. The doctor is better at this than I am. Hang tight. I�ll bring him in.� Again, in retrospect, she was certain. But she�s only a midwife and licensed to handle only the typical stuff. This has veered way out of typical. Ya know, because 2nd trimester losses are so fucking rare. A diagnosis like this had to be made by the doctor.

Within minutes, she has the doctor in there. By this time, I�ve poked at him pretty hard a few times whispering for him to just freaking WAKE UP. I�ve also convinced myself that he woke up and moved (the brain and its insistence on weaving a web of denial, no matter how futile the weaving may be�!). The doctor comes over and picks up the wand and looks around for a couple of minutes, then puts the wand down and says, �I�m so sorry, Sherry, but there is no heartbeat.� I�m still frantically trying to stay in my cocoon. This can�t be happening. Once you make it past the first trimester, you�re safe. This is insane. They�re wrong. They have to be wrong.

I�m holding together pretty well�not crying. Just kind of looking at them. He�s telling me that we need to go ahead and finish things, that it would be really bad if we left things as they were until nature realized that the pregnancy had gone amiss. He explained that he could admit me to Labor & Delivery and induce labor or we could do a D&E. He suggested a D&E, because it would be easier on me. I would go to sleep and wake up when it was all over. I was all foggy. Things were having a hard time landing in my brain. I was struggling to understand what they were saying. However, through the fog I still knew a D&E was essentially reaching in ripping him out part by part. I was repulsed by the mere thought of doing such a horrible thing to my sweet baby, but the fog kept me from objecting. I asked if they were sure there was no hope. He told me that he could send me to the hospital because they have a higher powered ultrasound machine. I asked him to please do that. He called over and scheduled me for the next day and gave me my orders to take with me to the hospital. He told me to call him the next day after the ultrasound.

My mother, fianc�, and I went to the ultrasound the next day. I went to outpatient registration and handed her my orders. I hadn�t really looked at them, but she was confused by what the doctor had written in the blank for Reason for Test. I looked and saw what he had written. As she�s calling over to one of the other girls asking what it means, I�m pondering it and swiftly coming to a conclusion. IUFD � Intrauterine Fetal Demise. The other girl is saying she doesn�t know what IUFD is, and they start to ask another registration clerk when I tell them quietly what I think it means. They looked shocked, as you�d expect, and grab their book and flip through it. I�m right on the money. They hustle me back to Radiology, where the ultrasound tech takes me right into the room. He�s studying the screen for what seems like ages. The 3 of us are sitting silently, and I�m holding my breath and staring at his face looking for some kind of clue. Finally, I can�t take it anymore and burst out with, �Well? Does it look hopeful?!� He was a very nice older gentleman, and he turns the screen toward me as he�s shaking his head. He shows me the picture and points out where the heartbeat should be flickering. There isn�t the tiniest bit of flicker there. He tells us he�s very sorry. We finish up and get out of there. As we�re standing in the parking lot, I call the doctor�s office and tell them the results of the ultrasound and say that there is no way I can go through with the surgery. He understands and tells me to be in Labor & Delivery the next morning at 6AM.

To be continued�

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