This past week was a very emotionally difficult week for me. Many days my grief was so overwhelming I could hardly breathe. As a mother that has lost a child I can tell you that there is something so not right about having to bury your "baby" no matter what age they are when you have to say goodbye to them in this life permanently. Just as an older mother feels the void and the emptiness of where her 3, 12, 22, or 62yr old used to be the younger mother of a baby feels the void and emptiness of where her 0yr old should have been. It is an ache, and emptiness, like no other. As a parent you never imagine having to bury your child, and if you do imagine it you quickly push it aside because even as a thought it is incomprehensible. Then when you find yourself literally living in the nightmare you are left to wander if the nightmare will never end and are overwhelmed by the thought that it doesn't. Yes, one gets used to living the nightmare and eventually the good dreams slowly reemerge again but the reality that your child is dead is a reality that never leaves you.
This summer I have had to endure the births of about 12healthy babies around me. While in no way, shape or form, do I ever wish those babies had not been born living and healthy, the births have left me feeling like a complete failure. As irrational as it may be it is how I feel and as my therapist puts it our feelings our often not logical but they still need to be dealt with. Anyways, there is something about reading all the "Way to go girl." and the "Congratulations!" on others Facebook walls throughout these last 8weeks since Katherines death and also the good 6 weeks prior to it. That has made my mind have to fight the questions of "Did I somehow not do a good job at the whole laboring thing because my baby died?" "Do I not deserve to be celebrated because my baby died?" The day after Katherine's birth I recieved no balloons, no gifts, no job well done...and maybe rightfully. I mean, my baby did just die, I did not create a living baby out side of my womb, death is not usually something that is celebrated. I am sure had I been given any "congratulations" and "way to go" it would have come more across as "Congratulations your babies dead!!!" and we all know that that would not have been good for me.
I suppose this is just one more token to add to my grief, that instead of being made to feel like this extraordinary being that God created me to be and celebrating the design of the female body, I get to struggle and wrestle with the issue that my body must not be so extraordinary after all. While I know that this probably isn't true it is how all these births make me feel especially as I see all these other mommas being celebrated and doted on; and well for the most part people have stayed away from me as if I have some disease.
Saturday was an extremely hard day for me. One of my closest friends gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl. I was so relieved that she had such a safe and healthy delivery because as a mother that has now experienced the death of her baby I would never wish that experience on anyone. Yet, at the same time I was so overwhelmed by my grief, "Why couldn't I have that same happiness? That same Joy? Why couldn't I get to have the baby snuggles, the breastfeeding pains and joys, changing diapers? Why did all I get instead was extremely engorged, painful breasts, that I had to 'wait it out' for it to go away? Why instead of holding my baby a week after her birth did I have to close the lid on a tiny casket and drive away from a grave?"
Yesterday, in church, we sang the song Oceans the lyrics are as followed
"You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand
And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now
So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior
I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine"
This is such a beautiful song, and as the congregation sang it I sunk into my seat, burying my face in my arms and hands, crying, praying...and all while saying "but I don't want a deeper faith I just want my baby. Please don't leave me here Lord."
So today in the midst of the waves, the hardship, the darkness, the questions
"I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine"
Monday, September 22, 2014
Friday, September 19, 2014
A roller coaster ride....
The thing with grief is that it is unpredictable...much like a roller coaster ride. Even though you can see it from a distance you don't really know what the ride is going to feel like until you ride it. Grieving a child is very much the same. Grief over anyone close to us is like a roller coaster ride....you observe it from a distance but until you ride it you won't know what it feels like.
Those that know me well know that when my grandmother passed away it was a life changing event for me and my family. She was my everything at that time in my life, she was a friend, mother, caregiver, provider, all encompassing to me. Her death was not a surprise though, we knew it was coming, it was a long drawn out goodbye and it was still very very hard.
Katherine's death was surprising, one gets past the 15week mark in a pregnancy and we all breath a sigh of relief and go "phew, now I just wait." But what this very sad tragic event has taught me more than ever is that there is no "safe mark". That if we only make it to such and such we'll be good. We are not guaranteed that even the children we have that make it to birth and beyond will be here tomorrow. Katherine's death was not expected, it was sudden, I literally had just seen her on the ultrasound 2days before her death...2days..and in 2days she had died..
The long drawn out goodbye was hard, the tragic sudden death was equally as hard.
The biggest difference other than my first experience with death was my grandmother and not my child is I wasn't fully allowed to grieve my grandmother's loss.
My father was a single parent, and the one person that was helping raise his children had just died on him, he didn't know how to comfort the grieving children that had just lost their friend, caregiver, provider, and that did all the things a mother should do for her children. So he did what he knew to do, which was to push us on, I wasn't allowed to cry about it in his presence after the first week of the funeral. We returned to school right away, and when the school tried to get us grief counseling he canceled it after just 3 sessions. Now this is in no way a criticism of my father. He did the best he could and much of his pushing us out of our grief was that he just couldn't bare it all. I see that now.
However, as a result, I was taught to not fully grieve. to just try to move on as quickly as possible. I noticed this mindset vividly in the week after Katherine's funeral when I found myself reverting back to what I was taught. So I determined to do something different this time and allow myself to grieve. I am in therapy, I allow my kids to cry and talk about Katherine whenever they want to. I allow my husband to be angry and I allow myself to cry and be angry too if need.
I think I have been very surprised at this roller coaster of grief. How quickly one minute I feel at peacem restful, fully trusting in my God and his sovereignty, relaxing in HIS grace and presence then in the next minute I am completely upside down in turmoil all over again. Grief, unlike the roller coasters at the amusement park, is unending. It's like a roller coaster you never get off but with time you get used to the twists and turns and grow numb. Every now and then, however, it feels like you are stepping back onto that ride for the first time and you have to grow numb all over again.
Right now, I am on an angry part of the roller coaster. I am angry that when I as in labor and saying that something was wrong nobody, and I mean nobody, believed me. I'm angry at myself for buying into the hype of vaginal delivery being the most and the best emotional and physically satisfying way to give birth. I'm angry that I didn't know that .05% chance of uterine rupture for a vbac translated into 1 in 200 for an average size baby and 4 in 200 for a bigger baby. Had the facts been presented to me in that way I wouldn't have "risked it." I am angry at God. I am ashamed to admit that fact, I always thought of myself more highly than i should and so I thought oh I would never be angry at God "he gives and takes away." blah blah blah...but I'm angry. I'm angry because I feel like I deserved better than this and I know how incredibly arrogant it is to say that. I know that i don't deserve anything from God that he does not owe me anything and in my pride I feel like he does and so I'm angry that he let this happen to me instead of picking out someone else to be that 1 in 200.
I am not proud of these above thoughts, so be gentle with me. I only share these because I want people to see that I am no saint, I struggle just as much as the next person does and that the only good anyone sees in me is all because of Christ and really not any of me at all.
So today if you want to pray for me. You can pray that though I'll never get off the roller coaster of grief, you can pray that I will make peace with it. Pray that I will continue to cling to Jesus even when I don't want to, and pray that I will recognize that even when I let go of him he is still clinging to me.
In this exact moment I am humbled by the thought that even though God knows that I am angry with him he is still clinging and loving on me which is a very overwhelming and powerful thought...what a merciful God I serve.
I told you grief is a roller coaster. ;-)
Those that know me well know that when my grandmother passed away it was a life changing event for me and my family. She was my everything at that time in my life, she was a friend, mother, caregiver, provider, all encompassing to me. Her death was not a surprise though, we knew it was coming, it was a long drawn out goodbye and it was still very very hard.
Katherine's death was surprising, one gets past the 15week mark in a pregnancy and we all breath a sigh of relief and go "phew, now I just wait." But what this very sad tragic event has taught me more than ever is that there is no "safe mark". That if we only make it to such and such we'll be good. We are not guaranteed that even the children we have that make it to birth and beyond will be here tomorrow. Katherine's death was not expected, it was sudden, I literally had just seen her on the ultrasound 2days before her death...2days..and in 2days she had died..
The long drawn out goodbye was hard, the tragic sudden death was equally as hard.
The biggest difference other than my first experience with death was my grandmother and not my child is I wasn't fully allowed to grieve my grandmother's loss.
My father was a single parent, and the one person that was helping raise his children had just died on him, he didn't know how to comfort the grieving children that had just lost their friend, caregiver, provider, and that did all the things a mother should do for her children. So he did what he knew to do, which was to push us on, I wasn't allowed to cry about it in his presence after the first week of the funeral. We returned to school right away, and when the school tried to get us grief counseling he canceled it after just 3 sessions. Now this is in no way a criticism of my father. He did the best he could and much of his pushing us out of our grief was that he just couldn't bare it all. I see that now.
However, as a result, I was taught to not fully grieve. to just try to move on as quickly as possible. I noticed this mindset vividly in the week after Katherine's funeral when I found myself reverting back to what I was taught. So I determined to do something different this time and allow myself to grieve. I am in therapy, I allow my kids to cry and talk about Katherine whenever they want to. I allow my husband to be angry and I allow myself to cry and be angry too if need.
I think I have been very surprised at this roller coaster of grief. How quickly one minute I feel at peacem restful, fully trusting in my God and his sovereignty, relaxing in HIS grace and presence then in the next minute I am completely upside down in turmoil all over again. Grief, unlike the roller coasters at the amusement park, is unending. It's like a roller coaster you never get off but with time you get used to the twists and turns and grow numb. Every now and then, however, it feels like you are stepping back onto that ride for the first time and you have to grow numb all over again.
Right now, I am on an angry part of the roller coaster. I am angry that when I as in labor and saying that something was wrong nobody, and I mean nobody, believed me. I'm angry at myself for buying into the hype of vaginal delivery being the most and the best emotional and physically satisfying way to give birth. I'm angry that I didn't know that .05% chance of uterine rupture for a vbac translated into 1 in 200 for an average size baby and 4 in 200 for a bigger baby. Had the facts been presented to me in that way I wouldn't have "risked it." I am angry at God. I am ashamed to admit that fact, I always thought of myself more highly than i should and so I thought oh I would never be angry at God "he gives and takes away." blah blah blah...but I'm angry. I'm angry because I feel like I deserved better than this and I know how incredibly arrogant it is to say that. I know that i don't deserve anything from God that he does not owe me anything and in my pride I feel like he does and so I'm angry that he let this happen to me instead of picking out someone else to be that 1 in 200.
I am not proud of these above thoughts, so be gentle with me. I only share these because I want people to see that I am no saint, I struggle just as much as the next person does and that the only good anyone sees in me is all because of Christ and really not any of me at all.
So today if you want to pray for me. You can pray that though I'll never get off the roller coaster of grief, you can pray that I will make peace with it. Pray that I will continue to cling to Jesus even when I don't want to, and pray that I will recognize that even when I let go of him he is still clinging to me.
In this exact moment I am humbled by the thought that even though God knows that I am angry with him he is still clinging and loving on me which is a very overwhelming and powerful thought...what a merciful God I serve.
I told you grief is a roller coaster. ;-)
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
One favorite picture of mine...
1. Her body is still quite pink. Looking at this picture reminds me that she was actually alive at some point in my womb. That reality comforts me as I know that I didn't just imagine her.
2. She is so beautiful even in her very "raw" form. Her little nose. Her sweet lips, her hair, ears, eyebrows....I mean looks at those chunky little arms of hers. Oh how preciously beautiful she is.
3. I am told that she was still quite warm in this picture. I was still having my own life saved in surgery. So I have no memories of holding a warm baby. I will always be jealous of my husband that got to give Katherine her first and only bath as well as got to be the one to hold her for the first time. I suppose though that this is only fitting as I will ever be the only one to have carried a living baby in my womb for 9months.
This past week in therapy our therapist gave us a homework assignment. He wants us all to write a letter to Katherine of the things we would tell her if she was here...a goodbye letter of sorts as well. Not that we won't ever remember her ect...but there is so much we would have loved to have said to her. I am dreading this assignment. I'm not sure how I can do it, thankfully my therapist is a very patient man. I don't ever want to say goodbye to my precious Katherine. Yet, I know that I must. Not that I will ever forget her, and she will always be carried with me in my heart, but i know that as her momma I need to tell her the things I wanted to say to her when she was born. I need to say the things that I wanted to say at her funeral but just didn't have the strength to do.
On another note
Today I saw a baby girl at the store about the size Katherine was when Katherine was born...I immediately cried. I got a few stares as I was trying my best to hold everything back. It's hard to go shopping. I purposely don't like to buy the milk, and I try to stay away from the yogurt area at our local store as both items are right next to the baby section. There is also one particular store that I don't like to go shopping at all at anymore as it was the last place (other than the doctor's office) that I went to while I was still pregnant with Katherine. I have flashbacks whenever I go to that store and I find that I am just too exhausted from them afterwards.
I hope that maybe someday I can look at a baby girl and not completely melt down afterwards.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Black and White
Fall used to be my favorite time of year. I say "used to be" because I am not so sure that it is anymore. In fact I'm not so sure I have any type of "favorites" anymore. The idea of a favorite season, favorite color, favorite book, or a favorite movie seems so pointless. I suppose that is what grief can do to a person though...I had a friend put it into words for me, she said "grief is like seeing everything in black and white." She's pretty accurate about that description.
Have you ever watched a black and white movie? While the story line and plot may be riveting and compelling there is something to adding color to the movie that makes the movie come alive to the viewers in a whole new way. Grief feels like a black and white movie to me right now. Life is still compelling and riveting, it still has all the wonderful makings of a beautifully interwoven plot, yet every moment is lacking the brightness of colors that make the moments come more to life. While I enjoy spending time with my kids, family, and friends I've noticed that the overwhelming brightness of those moments that I used to feel are gone. That doesn't mean that I am still not incredibly thankful for those gifts it's just means that the color that was so easily seen before only comes in glimpses for me right now.
Everyday I have to fight the battle to try to find the "colored" glasses...because the color is so so so very good. However, at the same time, I am also in a place where I need to embrace the black and white because the story line is still so very compelling, and beautiful, even if all the pretty colors of the dresses and the flowers don't come shining through.
I pray that one day I'll be able to experience again more fully the colored glasses of life. However, right now, I am simply just learning to embrace the black and white and enjoy the picture that is right before me. Maybe that might just be the first step in finding those colored glasses again.
Have you ever watched a black and white movie? While the story line and plot may be riveting and compelling there is something to adding color to the movie that makes the movie come alive to the viewers in a whole new way. Grief feels like a black and white movie to me right now. Life is still compelling and riveting, it still has all the wonderful makings of a beautifully interwoven plot, yet every moment is lacking the brightness of colors that make the moments come more to life. While I enjoy spending time with my kids, family, and friends I've noticed that the overwhelming brightness of those moments that I used to feel are gone. That doesn't mean that I am still not incredibly thankful for those gifts it's just means that the color that was so easily seen before only comes in glimpses for me right now.
Everyday I have to fight the battle to try to find the "colored" glasses...because the color is so so so very good. However, at the same time, I am also in a place where I need to embrace the black and white because the story line is still so very compelling, and beautiful, even if all the pretty colors of the dresses and the flowers don't come shining through.
I pray that one day I'll be able to experience again more fully the colored glasses of life. However, right now, I am simply just learning to embrace the black and white and enjoy the picture that is right before me. Maybe that might just be the first step in finding those colored glasses again.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
6weeks
My heart aches for her everyday. My arms long to hold her. My lips long to kiss her. My nose longs to smell her. My eyes long to see hear. My ears long to hear her. My fingers long to touch her. My breasts long to nurse her. My voice longs to speak to her.
Physically I have had a smooth recovery...my body is healing. I am thankful for a body that is able to heal. I just wish I could have healed her little body.
How I long to have her back....
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Broken thoughts
"Did I do something wrong?"
That is the biggest question and the one question I find myself asking over, over, and over again. "Did I do something wrong?"
My brain so desperately wants to wrap itself around something logical right now to make sense of this so very illogical thing that has happened. So I continue to ask myself "Did I do something wrong?"
I confided in a friend the other day that I am forever changed by this single event in my life. I literally feel as though my old self is completely gone and I am left trying to figure out who this malformed, defected, broken person is standing today. I know that I would have still been changed from the event of having a 3rd baby if my daughter had lived but i somehow think i would have been changed for the better. I fear that I have been changed for the worse because the opposite has happened. Instead of holding a living, breathing, beautiful baby girl and getting to look into her beautiful eyes, I got to hold a lifeless cold body. I will never know what color my daughter's eyes were in the first place.
So I ask myself the question again "Did I do something wrong?" Was I not a "good enough" person before that my daughter had to be taken away to somehow make me better? Of course none of us our "good enough" my faith teaches me that we all fall short...but my daughter didn't have to die so that I could be shown yet again how I fall short....at least I don't think she did.
I am not perfect in this journey of grief...I have had my moments where I feel like God is taunting me, playing with my emotions as I believe in a perfectly sovereign God. I believe that he knew what was going to happen to baby Katherine, to me, that none of this took him by surprise. Consequently, I believe then that he knew that about this time 9 other babies around me would be born as well and I would have to watch 9 other healthy babies be brought into this world, being loved on and cared for by their sweet mommas, rightfully and joyfully so...but that I would not get to love on mine. Cruel irony...Is my God a cruel God? Is he just some master orchestrating ways of how to make my grief feel the most heavy?
Truthfully, I am tired...I am so so tired of this life and of suffering. I feel like life events have given me more than my fare share of trials and yet I know that there are others that have suffered far greater and more painful ways than I. Yet I find myself clinging to a hope that it isn't all pointless? That there is a far greater purpose and a plan than I will ever see while I am living here on this earth. While that hope and knowledge do not diminish my grief for my baby it does allow me a sigh and strength to "trudge on" so to speak.
I hate feeling the way that I feel. I hate it. I hate just going through the motions. I am a very passionate soul, though many do not realize it, and anything that feels void of passion feels empty and meaningless to me. Going through the motions for me is empty and meaningless but I have no passion to pour out anymore.
I cling to my Savior, but even my faith is changing. My view, my perspective, is changing and I hope and I pray that in the midst of this darkness my faith resembles more and more of Christ and less of me but i get so scared of this sinful self of mine...I get scared that it won't...that maybe, maybe this will be the straw that does me in.
I used to smile when I sang during worship? Joyful songs, used to make me smile and dance, and sing out and now I don't smile in worship anymore. I either cry or I don't sing at all. Is my worship still sweet to him?
"Did I do something wrong?" I ask the question, in my pride and arrogance, as if I think I actually deserved my daughter. I didn't deserve the privilege of having 39weeks and 4 days of her growing in my womb. I didn't deserve her. I didn't earn her. I had no merit into her making and being. I'm not some super mommy that because I'm just really good at my job i get to have the privilege of having another one to add to my quill. I'm not owed a single thing from God. He owes me nothing. I don't deserve happiness......I'm not owed happiness....It isn't all about me.
That is the biggest question and the one question I find myself asking over, over, and over again. "Did I do something wrong?"
My brain so desperately wants to wrap itself around something logical right now to make sense of this so very illogical thing that has happened. So I continue to ask myself "Did I do something wrong?"
I confided in a friend the other day that I am forever changed by this single event in my life. I literally feel as though my old self is completely gone and I am left trying to figure out who this malformed, defected, broken person is standing today. I know that I would have still been changed from the event of having a 3rd baby if my daughter had lived but i somehow think i would have been changed for the better. I fear that I have been changed for the worse because the opposite has happened. Instead of holding a living, breathing, beautiful baby girl and getting to look into her beautiful eyes, I got to hold a lifeless cold body. I will never know what color my daughter's eyes were in the first place.
So I ask myself the question again "Did I do something wrong?" Was I not a "good enough" person before that my daughter had to be taken away to somehow make me better? Of course none of us our "good enough" my faith teaches me that we all fall short...but my daughter didn't have to die so that I could be shown yet again how I fall short....at least I don't think she did.
I am not perfect in this journey of grief...I have had my moments where I feel like God is taunting me, playing with my emotions as I believe in a perfectly sovereign God. I believe that he knew what was going to happen to baby Katherine, to me, that none of this took him by surprise. Consequently, I believe then that he knew that about this time 9 other babies around me would be born as well and I would have to watch 9 other healthy babies be brought into this world, being loved on and cared for by their sweet mommas, rightfully and joyfully so...but that I would not get to love on mine. Cruel irony...Is my God a cruel God? Is he just some master orchestrating ways of how to make my grief feel the most heavy?
Truthfully, I am tired...I am so so tired of this life and of suffering. I feel like life events have given me more than my fare share of trials and yet I know that there are others that have suffered far greater and more painful ways than I. Yet I find myself clinging to a hope that it isn't all pointless? That there is a far greater purpose and a plan than I will ever see while I am living here on this earth. While that hope and knowledge do not diminish my grief for my baby it does allow me a sigh and strength to "trudge on" so to speak.
I hate feeling the way that I feel. I hate it. I hate just going through the motions. I am a very passionate soul, though many do not realize it, and anything that feels void of passion feels empty and meaningless to me. Going through the motions for me is empty and meaningless but I have no passion to pour out anymore.
I cling to my Savior, but even my faith is changing. My view, my perspective, is changing and I hope and I pray that in the midst of this darkness my faith resembles more and more of Christ and less of me but i get so scared of this sinful self of mine...I get scared that it won't...that maybe, maybe this will be the straw that does me in.
I used to smile when I sang during worship? Joyful songs, used to make me smile and dance, and sing out and now I don't smile in worship anymore. I either cry or I don't sing at all. Is my worship still sweet to him?
"Did I do something wrong?" I ask the question, in my pride and arrogance, as if I think I actually deserved my daughter. I didn't deserve the privilege of having 39weeks and 4 days of her growing in my womb. I didn't deserve her. I didn't earn her. I had no merit into her making and being. I'm not some super mommy that because I'm just really good at my job i get to have the privilege of having another one to add to my quill. I'm not owed a single thing from God. He owes me nothing. I don't deserve happiness......I'm not owed happiness....It isn't all about me.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
A burial anniversary....
It is a cloudy, rainy day today. I feel, slightly comforted by this fact as the weather today perfectly conveys how I feel. I feel clouded with the many tears that erupt from the depths of my soul.
One month ago we buried our precious Katherine Joy.
People have said that with time this pain would get easier....but it hasn't. In many ways it feels like it has only gotten worse. Yes, physically living, has gotten easier. Functioning on the basics of everyday life, has gotten easier....but emotionally it has gotten anything but easier. Sure, it is easier to hide our tears, make small talk, take a shower, breath....It is easier to go through the motions and survive, so to speak However, the ache, the longing, the constant emptiness I feel because of her absence has gotten anything but easier.
These are still the "early days" i am told. The "early days" suck I wonder if I'll ever climb out of this darkness. I occasionally see glimpses of hope and light but some days those glimpses seem few and far in between. Especially on days like today when I know I would have been celebrating my little over 1month old baby girl, and also complaining about the sleepless nights.
I wonder how much she would weigh now? Having been 10lbs and 7oz at birth I imagine she would be close to 12 or 13lbs by now. My one month old the size of a 3month old...the thought makes me laugh and smile.
She was beautiful, perfectly formed. I still can't grasp why she didn't live.
On days like today I often will shed some tears. I will then take a big sigh and tell myself to just keep going. I will often also go to my knees in prayer and beg the only one that can often comfort me to give me HIS comfort and peace so that I can make it through another day.
I love my God, I love my Savior still even in the midst of this darkness and pain. As a believer in Christ I know all to well that we are not promised a pain free life but we are promised that we won't have to face the pain alone. Even when I feel alone I KNOW that I am not alone and every now and then my feelings catch up to what I know.
So, on the day of the 1 month anniversary of my daughters burial...I will shed some tears, I will take a big sigh, I will get up from my chair and go through the motions with my family. Most importantly I will cling to the hope that somewhere in this darkness I am not alone and that someone far greater than myself will take me by my hand and lead me through it.
Starting Somewhere
"It would never happen to me." "It's been over 4yrs since my last
c-section." "It's rare." "I'm never a 'rare' case." "It's less than
0.1%" chance." "It's only a 4% chance with a bigger baby." "It even more
rarely ends in death." "VBAC's are safer than repeat c-sections." "It
would never happen to me."
Except it did....
One of the worst, "rarest", things indeed happened to me. I thought that I had everything planned out, that I had researched enough to make the best decision for both me and my unborn daughter. I was willing to have a repeat c-section, even though i didn't really want it. I was going to schedule it, the doctor put off scheduling it for only 2days...
Now what should be a joyous, chaotic, stressful happy time is nothing but a painful, lonely, lost, and confusing time.
One of the worst, "rarest", things happened to me. My uterus ruptured and my baby died.
Except it did....
One of the worst, "rarest", things indeed happened to me. I thought that I had everything planned out, that I had researched enough to make the best decision for both me and my unborn daughter. I was willing to have a repeat c-section, even though i didn't really want it. I was going to schedule it, the doctor put off scheduling it for only 2days...
Now what should be a joyous, chaotic, stressful happy time is nothing but a painful, lonely, lost, and confusing time.
One of the worst, "rarest", things happened to me. My uterus ruptured and my baby died.
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