The morning of Friday December 2nd was it. The last few hours I had to be pregnant with my special little sweetheart. Cloudy and I spent some time in bed that morning holding each other and talking to the baby. This was actually the first time Cloudy talked to my belly. He said how much he loved our baby and said good bye and that he was sorry. I couldn’t hold it together. I was sobbing and didn’t want to ever leave that bed. But I did, I summoned all the strength I had left and then some. I got up, put on comfortable pants and ate some breakfast as instructed.
The drive was snowy; it was actually a really peaceful beautiful snow. When we got to the clinic my dad was there. There were also a couple other women in the waiting room. It’s saddening how none of the women there want to make eye contact with each other. It felt so filled with shame and sadness. Cloudy and I were taken right back and my parents waited in the lobby. I was told again what I could expect and again told that I would be given pain medication and a mild sedative for what they called conscious sedation. I was assured that I would be comfortable and wouldn’t remember anything. I explained that I had been under conscious sedation once before when I had my wisdom teeth removed and that it didn’t so much as phase me. I don’t know if they took me for a drugy at this point or what but they assured me I would be able to talk but I would be completely out of it and I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried at this point to talk Cloudy into going back into the waiting room with my Parents but he refused. I explained that I would be fine and wouldn’t know what was going on and that I didn’t want him to be traumatized. He flat out refused to leave my side or let go of my hand. So we were taken back to the surgical room and before I knew it, it was happening. I felt panicked. They put an IV in and told me to breathe deeply and relax. As the began and throughout the procedure I could feel everything and I remember everything. I could hear the masked panic in their voices as they all kept asking how much pain killer I had been given and to give me more. There were two nurses and two doctors in there with Cloudy and I. I kept asking them to tell me what was happening. I was just trying to keep breathing and stay calm as I endured the worst physical and emotional pain of my life. I guess by their standards it went quick, about 20 min. There were a few minor complications and I learned that they were due to the fact that I have a retroverted uterus. (I like to think of it as throwback.) I didn’t even know what that was, I got clarification later. At the very end I guess my uterus collapsed backwards and the experienced doc switched from observer to full hands on. I didn’t see anything but from the feel of it, they had a whole slew of hands and tools in there. It felt like exactly what it was, having my baby torn from me. Every instinctual cell in my body was fighting it which I’m sure didn’t help the process. The only good thing about feeling and remembering everything is that the thing that sticks out clearest in my mind is Cloudy holding my hand, stroking my hair, and kissing my forehead. He soothed me and helped me keep it together. I can’t even imagine what it was like for him to lose his baby and see his wife in pain. I’m sure he felt scared and helpless, but he didn’t show it, he was strong as steel. I tried so hard to protect him from that experience but he is the only reason I didn’t completely lose it in there.
After the main event I just remember feeling empty. I was glad my parents were able to come back into the recovery room but I just felt so crappy. My dad rubbed my feet and my mom sat with me. Cloudy still wouldn’t even go pee or get air or anything. He wanted to know that I was going to be ok before he would leave me for even a minute. They kept me there for about 2 hours to monitor me since I had been given so many drugs. When I was all cleared they had to take me to pee and measure fluids and get checked out to leave. It was then that I realized that I had been given the royal treatment. Where they took me there were lines of beds with women all recovering from their own misfortunes. No family members, no private recovery rooms. I’m not sure if it is done this way because of lack of resources or because they don’t want to make it an easy choice. Looking at the other women I felt mixed emotions. I was mostly just glad that a place like this existed that was clean and safe. I just couldn’t help but think about where these women and I would be if it didn’t. I also felt guilty for being given treatment that the others weren’t. And I felt sad for all the lost possibilities that day. I was glad to get out of there. I went home and promptly knocked right out, I slept for 5 hours and woke up hoping the nightmare was over.