I had an awful dream last night. I thought that my baby had died in the womb. I woke with a start at the horrible nightmare and sat up in bed. I could feel the pad between my legs, the pad that is there to catch the pitiful remains of my baby. I remembered what had happened yesterday and my tears started afresh. If you read yesterday's blog post, you know what happened.
This isn't a dream. This is happening. This is real. It's a reality that I hate, but it's real nonetheless.
I've been out of sorts all day, irritated with everyone who has had the misfortune to interact with me. I know it's no one else's fault (according to all three doctors I've spoken with, it's not even my fault), but I'm taking my frustration and pain out on the world. I want someone to take it out on, but there is no one to blame.
The anger is masking my aching sadness. And, oh God, how I ache with sadness. My mouth and my bones and my blood cries out, screaming and pleading for a miracle. Begging for my joy to be restored.
I haven't resumed bleeding yet and I'm torn about how to feel. On one hand, I'm hopeful. . .ridiculously hopeful that maybe somehow my baby will come back to life and that it's little heart will start beating once again. I know it probably sounds stupid, but I can't abandon hope just yet; I can't give up. On the other hand, I'm painfully aware that I have a dead baby in my womb. I'm driving myself crazy wondering when my body will expel this baby, wondering if it will hurt, hoping that I'll just be numb to the event by the time it happens. But hoping that I could never feel numb to the realization that my body is releasing a child of mine.
Waiting to pass your dead baby is a terrible feeling, a feeling I wouldn't wish on anyone. I handled the news that my baby's heart was still. I didn't freak out or have a breakdown - not in the ER anyway. I nodded and thanked the doctor for the news. But this waiting. . .I think this waiting is the cruelest part of the entire event. I wonder now if I made the wrong decision about how to remove my dead baby.
I feel silly that I've received so many offers of help since I'm not experiencing any physical pain. I feel like a sucker that I was already so in love with this baby. I feel stupid that I was so eager to share my good news with everyone on Thanksgiving, only to share my heartbreak now. Mostly though I feel the overwhelming ache of sadness.