Blowin’ in the Wind

I stood there naked and I thought “How can this be happening again?”

I quickly got dressed into my hospital gown, put my extra large red non-slip socks on, and climbed into bed.  I watched the curtain carefully and waited for the nurse to come back.

It was 5 minutes before anyone would return, but it could have easily been hours.  My eyes filled with tears, my body shook, and I was completely alone in a strange place.  I grabbed my stomach and whispered goodbye to my sweet baby, knowing that in minutes we would be separated.  Knowing that in minutes my baby would not be with its mom anymore.

A nurse came in later and looked at the large blue bruise on my arm from yesterday’s IV and promised they would find a different spot for the new one.  It took a few pokes, but they landed on my right hand, and yes it hurt.

Just hours before I watched my baby on a large screen in black and white.  It floated motionless in the silence while we all confirmed (again) that there was no heartbeat.  No blood flow.  No life.

I had woken up the day before to find blood on the toilet paper.  My heart beat so fast, but I told myself to remain calm.  In that moment I promised God I would love Him the same no matter what.  A few bruises and hours later, I watched this strange doctor I had never met walk painfully into our ER room.  I watched as he struggled to make eye contact and find the right words.

I shook, and used every ounce of strength within me to respond in complete sentences.  I said thank you for telling us, and allowed my eyes to get wet (but not my face).  We were given permission to leave after I signed a paper saying I understood that I had miscarried (and yes, signing that hurt).  We walked back to our car five minutes later (but it could have easily been hours).

Which brings us to the next day, and the surgery.  I woke up from the anesthesia to find that everything went well.  My husband was brought back and he helped me get dressed.  He was careful not to dislodge the needle that was still in my right hand.

 

I looked down at my stomach and realized that my baby was gone.  We were separated and no matter where I would look, or how far my arms would stretch, the truth remained simple: we would not be together again for some time.

How can this be happening again?

I don’t know.  But to me,

the scarier question is: How many times will this happen again?

That question, and the one before it, are the reasons that the house is asleep and I am awake.