Today was a pretty swell day. Nothing amazing happened... but it's just one of those days where everything feels "right". As I'm writing this, I am laying down in bed watching family guy, sipping on a small can of Coca-Cola, and munching on my little ziplock baggie filled with Hot Cheetos. Now, now, now... before you go all crazy on me. I talk to my Doctors about what I can and what I can't eat. I'm allowed 1 can of Coca-Cola per day and Hot Cheetos doesn't do any harm to my little bug. It may cause me some major indigestion, but on this awesome day, it's a price I am willing to pay. For now. I'll probably regret it in about 3 hours and for the rest of the night. LOL!
ANYWAYS........ I hope everyone is having a good Monday!
In a previous blog entry, I began telling you about my first pregnancy in 2010. I figured, since I am in such a good mood, I should complete the rest of the story now, because my mind is more clear and I can handle myself a lot better.
Lets begin right where I left off...
"I arrived at the hospital... That's where my nightmare began."
When we arrived to the ER (we as in, my bf at the time and I), I was immediately transferred to the Labor & Delivery Room because I was already passed a certain amount of weeks. I didn't think anything of it, I honestly thought that it was going to be an "In & Out" visit. I get to the L&D, the nurse monitors the baby's heartbeat- which was great. Monitored to see if I was contracting, nothing. She finally told me, "Ok, I'm just going to perform a quick vaginal exam, and I think you should be good to go home". Which is always good news, no one likes to be admitted to the hospital. She performs the vaginal exam, and I don't know why but I could see in her face that something was wrong. I wasn't sure if I was being paranoid but she checked, and then said she would be back with the my doctors order. About ten minutes later, she comes back and drops the bomb on me... "We are going to have to keep you here overnight. Unfortunately, you are 4cm dilated, and there's some bulging going on with the amniotic sack". At the moment, I still didn't know what was going on exactly, but I knew it was bad, very bad. I was only 20 weeks along. How could I be going into labor already?
Once I was admitted into what was going to be my home for the next 6 days, the nurse put in the IV line, a catheter on my bladder, and a monitor on belly for the baby's heart beat and to see if I was contracting. The nurse told me to lay on left side and to not get up AT ALL. Tests after tests were made... hours turned into days... it was torture. I had to eat laying down. I couldn't even sit up. So far, not one nurse nor doctor could explain to me why this was happening. They just told me that I was going into pre-term labor and I needed to stay put for as long as I need to. Eventually the turned the bed backwards, making my legs higher than my head, to push the amniotic sack back in. They told me that if it did go back in, then they could possibly perform a cerclage to stitch up my cervix and keep the baby in till I further down my pregnancy. Only because if I would of delivered then, the baby had NO chance of survival, and if a miracle did occur, he/she would of been born with major complications and probably wouldn't have a long life span.
My heart would literally break down more and more with every bad news they would throw at me. But I kept on with everything, hoping and praying that everything would turn around and end up okay. We wanted our baby to be healthy, to have the opportunity to live. Hours and hours passed that turned into days, no changes occurred and the doctor finally decided to talk me into inducing labor. Which to me it meant, take some medication to speed up the delivery process and end my baby's life even quicker because according to the doctors she had no chance of life either way. Something I was NOT willing to do... I stood my ground and told them that as long as there was a heart beat, I was not going to do anything to hurt my baby. They threatened me with all the bad things that could come out of waiting, that I could get an infection that would cause me to be infertile. That the baby was going to die either way, so why wait? But I didn't care. I was gonna stay there for months if I had to. Even if it would cause my own life.
More and more hours passed, another day, and I had more and more time to think. My mother saw the emotional pain that I was going through and so did other family member's, they began to tell me that maybe inducing labor was the best thing to do. After HOURS of tears, and prayers, and meditation, I decided to tell the doctor that I was going to consider getting induced. She then did ONE LAST vaginal exam to see how much my cervix was measuring, and that's when she told me, "I can feel the baby's feet (or arms, I don't remember at the moment), and there is no movement." They checked the heart beat, nothing. The baby had passed. And even though I felt like my world shattered into pieces, I at least felt some insignificant relief that this happened on it's own. That I was not the cause for my baby's death. That I did everything that was humanly possible... minutes later, they injected me with medication, and the contractions began. I had to go through the contractions, and the labor pains to deliver a baby that would not come home with me. I had to push my baby out, and not hear a cry nor a scream, nothing. I felt numb. Almost dead inside.
When I finally delivered, the nurse told us what I had been waiting months to know, it was a girl. My baby girl... My daughter, a little piece of me. And she was gone, too soon. The nurses dressed her up in a little white dress, and took pictures of her for a memory box they were going to give me. My boyfriend at the time had the chance to hold her in his arms. My mother held her. I did not. I couldn't. I couldn't find the strength to even look at her. I didn't want to remember her that way. In that condition, because that's not how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to come home with me. Instead of me coming home to take care of my little girl, I had to go home, empty handed, and a funeral to prepare. I was devastated.
I'm not going to say that I didn't feel some guilt, because I did. I did feel that I was supposed to protect her. That it was my job to make sure nothing bad happened to her. Like I had failed her. She deserved so much more than this. No mother or child deserves this pain.
I do feel sad till this day... it's been a year and nine months since she passed away, and that sadness won't go away, ever. I mean, it does get easier. But at the same time, I don't want to forget either. She was real. And she will always be my daughter. One thing I do regret is not holding her when I had the chance. I think that would of helped me get through it all a little better. I should of held and I should of cried for her right then and there, and let all my emotions out.
Her name is Lianny. Mommy's little girl. I miss her every day that passes by. And I love her with all my heart and all my strength. I can't wait till I can hold her in my arms.
---
This isn't to ruin anyones day, just to express what I went through. That's what blogs are for, right? If anyone else out there has gone through this, or something similar, I can be someone you can talk to. We all need someone to vent to or just talk about the emotions we're holding in.
