After I did my usual blog rounds, and read all the sadness here tonight, I almost didn't blog this. But it's been 6 years in the making.. and I'm finally ready to share it.
Shortly before Thanksgiving, 2004, I had a funny feeling. I was married at the time, working full time. But I was tired all the time, and had this twinge in my tummy. I bought a pregnancy test on my lunch hour one day. Imagine my shock when I saw two pink lines appear in the window, even before the allotted 5 minute wait. Stunned, I went back to work, and finished my day not even remembering what I did. On my way home, I bought another one.
At home that night, I left my husband sitting on the couch, went to the restroom, and peed again on a silly little plastic stick that would change my life. Once again, two pink lines appeared almost instantaneously, like the stick just couldn't WAIT to tell me the news. I called out, "Steveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" and stood in the bathroom, with what I'm sure was a stunned look. He came running in, scared by the tone in my voice. Stopping suddenly, looking from the stick to my face and back again, his own look of stun on his face.
Silently, he came forward, pulled me into a huge hard hug and I could feel his tears fall onto my neck. "I'm going to be a daddy!" he said brokenly. We stood in that bathroom and cried.
It was fairly easy after that. Went to the doctor, got conformation, signed up for several programs, etc etc etc. I was around 2 months pregnant. At thanksgiving with my family, we broke the news to much joy and cheers and shouting. My mom and dad were ecstatic, their first grandchild!
Three days later, while snuggling in bed, Steve asked me, "What would you do if you started bleeding, or something was wrong?" I told him I'd go to the hospital right away. I still can't believe that off beat comment. The next morning, I go to pee. And there's blood in my panties. I wake him up, tell him what's happening... and we go to the E.R.
I'm crying my eyes out, almost hysterical. We're waitin in the E.R. He's verbally abusing the check in people. Finally, I get admitted, and I get an I.V, and a catheter. My first ever for either. Against my demands, he's called my parents who live 1.5 hours away. They show up, but only two people are allowed in the room at a time. My mother won't leave my side, so my dad and him take turns holding my other hand. Hours later, they take me away, and do an ultra-sound. The tech fills my bladder with water, a sensation I'll never forget, and scans my belly. Steve's holding my hand, when the screen shows not one, but TWO little beans growing inside me.
Twins! With their strong lil heartbeats echoing in the empty room. We both cry again. TWINS! And they're fine! They do blood tests, and all sorts of other tests. They deem me a "complicated pregnancy" and send me home with an appointment with a OBGYN that's considered a specialist the next day.
We see him, and I like him. He's the kind of no-nonsense, straight talking doctor I like. He tells me my twins are in danger. He's not sure why, but to keep the pregnancy, I'll need to be on strict bed rest. Literally, I'd be allowed to walk from the bed to the couch, couch to the bathroom or the bed. That was it.
I read a lot, I did my cross stitch, working on matching blankets for my little ones. I'd named them "Tweedle-dee, and Tweedle-dum" in my mind, and even tho I had hardly a bump yet, I'd rub my belly and tell stories to the two life's growing inside me. My mom called them "Lima bean, and Pinto bean". I worried over names, and planned proms and weddings.
After a few days, the bleeding stopped. I still had my weekly visits with my Dr., who I still adore. I started getting bored, with all my new found free time. We didn't have a computer or internet at that time. Still, I stayed confined to the couch or the bed.
On the 19th of December, I woke up, and went to the bathroom. While sitting on the toilet, I felt an odd feeling in my tummy. I looked into the bowl and watched as a large clot of blood passed from me to the water. I screamed, and tore the cover off a magazine sitting next to me. Using the cover, I fished the clot out. He came running, and seeing me holding this huge clot on a magazine cover. We're both crying our eyes out. Our friend, who was there at the time, had to call the Dr., as neither of us could speak. I just...knew.
My Dr. said it wasn't as bad as we thought. I'd probably just sloughed off some of the lining of my uterus. He told me to continue my bed rest, and calm DOWN! Stress was bad! I was to come in 1st thing the next day, for another ultra sound. That was the longest day of my life. The bleeding had started again, and now I wasn't worrying about names, or proms, or even how I was going to breastfeed to babies. I was just worrying if I'd even get to meet my Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum.
Finally, I was in stirrups, familiar warmed jelly on my tummy, and a warmed blanket covering my legs. We're staring so intently at the screen that I'm sure we'll burn a hole through it. And, my little beans are there! In 3-D, we see them. Nestled together like they're snuggling. The midwife, who's working the machine, says, "Excuse me.", puts the scanner down, and walks out.
We were both so happy, seeing them on the screen, that we're crying again, but happily, smiling and cracking jokes about grounding them when they come out, for the scare. My Dr. comes in, cracks his usual corny joke, and scans my belly again. His face doesn't change much, but I notice. He covers my belly, and asks that after I'm dressed, see him in his office.
All smiles are gone now. I get dressed with lightning speed, and we sit in his leather-clad office. Dr.'s in his chair, across from us. And he tells us plainly. "I'm sorry. But both babies have no heartbeat." I cannot tell you, the tears I cry even now, hearing that voice in my head. I was in disbelief at first, then realized that the sound of their loud, strong hearts weren't present at that last ultra sound. We cried, we railed against God, Goddess, the world in general. My Dr. even shed a tear. Said it was the work of my beloved Mother Nature, and it wouldn't have happened if there wasn't something seriously wrong.
We were sent home, yet more bed rest, with an appointment on the 26th to "remove the waste". But I was inconsolable, they weren't waste! Christmas was a morbid affair. No one could enjoy themselves, knowing I'd lost my babies.
The day after Christmas, my dad took me to the surgical center. I remember being royally pissed off at how beautiful of a day it was. Sunny, a few puffy clouds spaced here and there, warm and a perfect Florida day. I was silent through the entire check in/prep phase. I know now, that it was irrational. But, even tho my babies weren't alive, they were still inside me, a part of me. I even protested when I was on the operating table, as the knock out juice was hitting me. "STOP! stop! Don't take them from me!"
When I came out from the anesthesia, I was sobbing. My dad told me I'd been crying for a good 20 minutes, even when I was under. Makes sense. No matter how under I was, I knew I was losing my babies.
I swear, the next few months I saw happy, pregnant women everywhere. Or couples with babies. Every cake order I took was for a baby shower, or for a 1st birthday. I HATED them. Hated them all. I wished horrible things on their happiness.
I understand now, how everything happens for a reason. And how, with as bad as mine and my husband's split was, children would have made it even worse. I understand, that we were in NO way ready to raise a child, much less two. And I understand, finally that I may or may not ever be ready to have children.
Ma lil beans would have been 5 years old now. Excited about Santa, and maybe gibbering happily at each other in their twin speak as we decorate cookies or the tree.
Thank you, whoever actually made it this far. I've told a few people about this time in my life, not many. And I never told the whole story. Hell, this isn't even the whole story. You wouldn't believe how much life you live in a month. But thank you for letting me tell you. And thank you for letting me vent.
And.. to my Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum. I loved you from the moment I knew you were with me. And I love you now, still.
