Wednesday, September 28, 2011

September 28, 2011

Two years ago today about this time I was getting an ultrasound on my lungs and liver and probably other stuff in the hospital. The tech kept looking at something in particular and then even went and got another tech to help her. I was almost relieved that it seemed like they had found something wrong to explain my pain. When we were brought back to the hospital room, I naively said to Joe, "I'm just afraid that they aren't going to find anything wrong and send me home like I'm imagining this..." (I always morbidly wonder what exactly would have happened if they had sent me home. My OB said I would have likely started seizing by the next day and gone into liver failure within a day or so as well. Olivia was already in distress with low fluid levels by around 4 pm that day, so I don't think she would have lived much longer inside me. They didn't think she'd survive long enough for an induction.)

A nurse came in and asked if I wanted pain meds and I said no. Soon after that, my OB's (now ex) partner came in and checked me over, asked about where it hurt and that dumb rating scale they use. The nurse told her how I had turned down pain meds, the tone in her voice suggesting that "she can't be in that much pain if she doesn't want drugs"...that was when I spoke up that the reason I didn't want pain meds was that I would rather tough it out until I passed out from it than take something that might effect the baby. I think Joe must have been on his way home to let out the dogs by then because he probably would have been even more irritated about that than I was. Someone came in and did more bloodwork and they were waiting for the radiologist's report. I begged for food and they finally agreed to give me freaking broth, which was disgusting, but I was starving. They didn't want to let me eat anything real until they knew what was wrong in case I needed surgery. We'd been there since 3 am or so and it was now about noon.

The Really Bad News came from a phone call around 2:30ish. I was watching General Hospital (It just so happens that Olivia and Lucas/Lucky are both characters there. We didn't do it intentionally really, and if we have another girl someday, the names that I really like aren't any characters yet.) And texting my friend on my cell phone about how they were trying to starve me and asking her to google pain meds and pregnancy because by that point I was pretty stinking miserable between my hunger and the pain and also sleep deprivation and not to mention I had no idea that I was never going back to Hell City again so I was still stressed out about what the little darlings were doing to my sub and the lesson plan for the next day. I think I called them sometime that afternoon before I found out the bad news and told them that I'd been admitted and still was there and probably wouldn't be in to work Tuesday either and just have them do whatever.

Anyway, my OB was on the phone (note: when my OB calls me herself, it's almost ALWAYS bad news. The only time she called me herself my entire pregnancy with Lucas was to tell me the amnio came back mature which I already knew from my nurse at the perinatal center, and after I had called her when my water broke. She called me twice in my brief pregnancy with Olivia- when my quad screen test results came back bad, and that day in the hospital.) She said my lab work came back really bad, that she wanted me to be transferred to another hospital and stay on bedrest there as long as we could, but we'd probably be delivering in a week or so. And there was a high risk doctor coming to see me and talk to me more. He came and suddenly waiting a week to deliver was no longer an option. (I found out later my OB called around a few more MFM's to get other opinions and try to find something, anything, to buy us a little more time. But they all agreed and said there was nothing.)

Everything was a whirlwind from there although not really. The last ultrasound. Going back to my hospital room after the ultrasound. The nurse asking what happened and crying with us. The ambulance to the next hospital. Talking to my OB at the new hospital. Getting prepped. And then surgery. Then she was born. And died. 2 miserable days in recovery on mag sulfate with our dead baby in the room because Joe wouldn't let them take her away and wouldn't let anyone set her in the little basket/cradle they brought her in. (That's still heartbreaking even in retrospect.) Finally, thank god for Heartprints Maggie who coaxed Joe into letting them take the baby for a little while with the promise they'd bring her back whenever we wanted. We were in bad shape. Finally the mag was stopped and I was brought to a new room away from L&D (but ironically ended up there with Lucas-thankfully not in the same room- b/c the hospital was so overfull with mom's and babies that they had to use 2 floors.) A few days later it was suddenly October, and we left without our baby, with a bag full of Olivia's "stuff", a scrapbook, some little books and stuff.

And here we are now, two years later.  Still missing her as much as ever. I made the mistake this year of trying to think of this day as little as possible. It's been quite a long while since I had a good hard cry. Heartprints Maggie says grief is like a cup that builds up overtime until you empty it or it overflows...and it is overflowing for me today. I don't remember last year being this hard, not that it was easy. This may be a multiple post day.

Oh Olivia, I wish you could have stayed.

4 comments:

Brooke said...

Oh, Angie. I'm crying with you and missing Olivia. I wish she could have stayed, too. I'm so sorry you don't have her here with you.

Sonja said...

I'm so sorry. Take good care of yourself today. Our family will say our nightly poem for your little Olivia, too.

Kim said...

I'm so sorry Angie. Thinking of you, Joe and sweet Olivia.

MrsH said...

I also did not think much of the time when I lost Adrian, the whole hospital torture on bedrest, the fear, the sadness. I think I needed to focus on Emma this past 9 months. I fear that January will hit me like a ton of bricks. As usual, wishing that our little ones could have stayed.

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