January 8, 2020 **trigger warning**
At this point, I am just trying to take each moment and day at a time. I just have to get to next week. Next week I will get to know if my ball of cells is alive or not. I'll either see the heartbeat or I won’t. I just have to keep going. Wade is at work. I am up with Hudson. I am still bleeding. I got sick this morning. “Hey, that’s good.” Maybe this won’t be so bad. But really, I was just lying to myself. I was trying to give myself a silver lining, even though all I could see was gray. Everything was horrible.
I had Wade pick up Chinese for dinner. I'm on call tonight for SANE. Honestly, I was hoping for a case, just so that I had something to do.I started to notice some mild cramping during dinner. I told Wade. He asked “what do you think that means?”
“I’m having a miscarriage.” I said with the most monotone voice anyone could imagine. I knew I was having a miscarriage. It was just a matter of when it was going to “start.” I had literally told Ty that I just wanted to miscarry to get it done and over with. Stop with this torture. Just be done with.
After dinner, Hudson goes down like normal. Time is still moving around me. Wade goes upstairs to play his video games while I sit downstairs and work on my online classes for SANE. It was honestly my “happy” time. I was thinking of something else. Or at least trying too.
The cramping only got worse. Wade had asked multiple times before he went upstairs if there was anything he could do for me. I told him no, but I would let him know if I needed him. Why make him sit here and wait with me? I kept changing positions. Trying to get comfortable. Nothing was working. I texted Wade, “I’m starting to get really uncomfortable.” He didn’t respond. He was playing. I knew he would look at his phone when he was done with his “game”. Ten minutes or so go by. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you how long it was. It probably wasn’t too much time, but it felt like everything was rushing by me. The cramping was getting worse. I knew what was happening. I’ve been in labor before. This wasn’t nearly as physically painful. I had back labor with Hudson. I had two epidurals and neither worked with Hudson. I was a powerful and strong woman with Hudson. I did that. I did.
“Can you come down here? I could use you.” I texted Wade. At this point, I closed my laptop and set it down. I am bending over. I am in pain. I have a high pain tolerance. But this hurts.
I still don’t know what made me get up. But I had this feeling that I had to go to the bathroom. I get up and walk to the bathroom in the living room. I pull my pants down and sit down.”My pad has heavier blood on it” I thought. “This is happening.” And with that thought, everything fell out with a massive cramp. I heard everything hit the toilet. The water splashed up. I felt it splash my butt. Whatever just fell out, was large. But the pain was gone. The cramping had instantly stopped. Instantly.
I am crying. I texted Wade, “I need you. Now,”
I know what just fell out of me. I know what just happened. I just miscarried. This was that. I was hysterical. I’m still sitting on the toilet. Screaming and crying for me husband.
Let me add real quick, he wears noise cancelling headphones when he plays and he doesn’t sit there and check his phone much when he is playing. My husband is not ignoring me. But he isn’t here with me. And I need him now.
I get up all of the toilet. I look in the toilet. Ugly, hysterical crying, that blood curdling cry when something is truly wrong. Staring at my baby. I am hugging the toilet. There is a giant blood clot sitting at the bottom of the toilet. To the left is a small baby. It was white. You could see the two legs and the head. It was curled up in the fetal position. I saw the yolk sac that my baby was using for nutrients as my placenta was growing. I cough. I am getting over this sickness, and I’m hysterically bawling my eyes out. I cough. I felt something slip out of me. I quickly jump up and pull my pants down as I sit on the toilet. Like the actual toilet. I had the sit up so I could see my baby better. I’m sitting on this cold hard toilet. Bawling. I see something. Its bloody. I grab some of the toilet paper next to me, and I pick it up out of my pants. It’s my placenta. It is clear as day that it is my placenta. I am hysterical. Like mouth wide open, drool is just following out of my mouth, huge tears rolling down my face and so much sound coming out. I call my husband.
As I call him, I hear him rushing down the stairs. It sounded like he fell down. He tripped over every toy in the way to get to me. But he was running to me. He knew. He knew what happened. And he knew he needed to be there for me and that he wasn’t. I could feel his instant guilt. He kneeled beside the toilet and just held me while I cried.
“I’m so sorry!” I cried.
“It’s not your fault babe. I am here.”
He just hugged me and held me. I showed him the placenta. He held me tighter.
“Our baby is in the toilet.”
“It’s okay babe.”
“I’m so sorry babe, I’m so sorry.”
“Babe, it’s okay, it’s not your fault.”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” I continued to scream. It was literally the only thing I could say. What else was I supposed to say? I killed our baby. Our baby is dead because of me. I did this. This is my fault.
“What can I do to help you?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Babe, what can I do. It is okay.”
“What do I do with this?!” showing him the placenta again.
“Whatever you want to do with it babe.” I set it on the counter nearby.
“I’m so sorry.” I continued to cry.
“It is okay babe, I love you. This is not your fault.”
“I’m sorry I killed our baby.”
“Babe! This is not your fault. You did not kill our baby.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s get your cleaned up babe.” he stated as he got up. He went and got me new underwear and my favorite sweatpants and a fresh shirt. He grabbed my soap and washcloth. “Come here babe.” He held me real close for another moment. He turned the water on the shower to warm it up.
“I’m so sorry babe.” I cried while putting my head in my hands with defeat.
“Babe, you are okay. We will get through this. Let’s stand up.”
He helps me up, and holds me up. My legs are literally shaking. He walks me to the shower. He helps me step in. With each step, blood clots are falling out of me. “Do you need help cleaning up?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He gave me some privacy by closing the shower curtain but he stayed near. He never left the bathroom. I wash myself. I cried harder when I wiped and there was all this blood. “I'M SO SORRY.” I screamed. I felt nothing but heartbreak and defeat.
“I forgive you my love.”
I opened the shower, still crying, but not as hard. Wade helped me out. He put a pad in my underwear. He dressed me. I was pretty worthless. I looked over at the toilet. He had shut the toilet seat. I sat down and hugged the toilet and opened the lid back up. I cried again. I almost stuck my hand in there and grabbed my baby out. I withheld. A decision I now regret. I wish I would have held my tiny little baby before we flushed my baby. That’s right. We flushed him. What else was I supposed to do?
I wish I would have held him and studied all of his features before I said my final goodbye.
But instead, I walked out of the bathroom and sat on the couch. I think I had finally stopped crying for the moment. I sat there. Just starring.
“What do you want me to do with everything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to dig it out of the toilet?” he asked. Damn. He actually asked to do that. I wish I would have said yes.
“Do you want me to flush it?”
“Do you want to do it?”
He went in, took a moment, and flushed the toilet. I felt my heart go down the drain with my baby.
We sat on the couch for a while before we went to bed. He called off of work for the next day. And he held me. When I was ready, I got up and was ready for bed.