Saturday, September 27, 2008
To open or to close
I don't really know if I want this blog to be open to readers or closed. In one sense I think perhaps leaving it open may give me insight on how to heal. I know others have traveled this path or journey I'm on and have come out the other side. I need their stories I need support but on the other hand this is very raw and do I really want my friends and family to see raw I don't know. Do I want people to know that in the dark hours of the night I am not as okay as I appear. So for now I am baring my soul for all to see. I have chosen to do it in a place that is not intertwined in my daughters life. Maybe along the way I'll help someone else whom is dealing with a similiar situation. Hopefully along the way I feel healing. Which I know will come with time. I have not deleted a single email I recieved during the days after my loss of Lucy. I have every ultrasound picture tucked away in the office. Its as if deleting the emails and tossing the pictures will make her less real. I am not ready to letgo yet. This blog is to help me let go.
Get Real
The last get real post I did I erased from my blog I felt like it was too honest or maybe just plain TMI. I was in a super vulnerable place in my life and felt as if I was already stripped bare. I felt the need to purge information that was eating away at me. Now though I feel like people are embarassed when they meet me in person that they read my blog. They know too much. Once again though I feel the floodgates of emotion ready to unleash and here seems to be where the flood is easiest to bare. I should be 8 months pregnant, most days that does not permeate my day, most days I can hold on to the great things in my life and not concentrate on the fact that life is not fair. But, recently I went to an adoption picnic and for some reason this brought up a floodgate of emotions. It is like I have started the grieving process again. After my first 3 miscarriages I was mad. I was bitter and couldn't walk into baby stores or the kids area of target without feeling bitter. I could taste my anger in my mouth and feel it taking over me. Then we made the decision to adopt and all the anger dissipated. It was as if I had those experiences for a reason. I found happiness again and then when this picture of Lily was placed in my lap I knew that there was a plan for my life and that I was supposed to be this babies mother. So fast forwad to my current state. I was not trying to become pregnant last spring. Although it was a surprise I was so happy and excited. When I made it past the 12 week hurdle my excitement for this new baby was over the top. Then the disbelief that I was loosing that perfect package was devestating. I saw the shape of her nose her ten tiny fingers the four chambers of her perfect beating heart and I can not understand how life is so cruel. To add insult to injury I was forced to step into an abortion clinic and lie with women in recovery who got the privelege to make a choice about their babies. So I am trying to make sense of it I am trying to find meaning in the harsh cruel world. I am back in this angry place and I don't want to be here. I want to make sense where no sense can be made. Then I see posts of people with real intense tradedy and feel disgusted that I have let myself feel pity for myself when clearly there are others that are handling their own tragedys with grace and dignity. I want grace. I want dignity but most of all I want my baby.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Luciana Rose Delap
I have felt the need to get Lucy's story down on paper. I am not sure why but when there is a story inside me I have to purge it in order to quiet it a bit. In order to tell Lucy's story I must start at the beginning. I was married in June of 2002. I was 27 at the time. Because 30 was looming in front of me I wanted to start a family right away. I had this idea that motherhood must come before 30. So between 02 and 04 I had 3 miscarriages. The first I carried for 12 weeks but very early on we knew that there were problems. The fetus was not growing properly and I was spotting. If I was the expert I am now I would have known to have no hope but I was naive and clung to every ounce of hope the doctor gave me. At 12 weeks I miscarried the baby alone in my home. I vowed not to do that again. The next two miscarriages were at around 9 weeks and I had a DNC. After the 3rd miscarriage I was sent to a fertility specialist and was poked proded and otherwise violated with every test in the book only to be told I was normal. What a relief that was :) I took a cycle of chlomid which thinned the walls of my uterus and would have caused a miscarriage had I become pregnant so the next round I took a very pricey injectible medication. This did not thin the walls of my uterus but I did not become pregnant. At this point I was knee deep in adoption research and could not really concieve of investing any more money in the wasteland of infertility. Their diagnosis of normal didn't sit well with me. I did not see how their fertility drugs were going to help my uterus carry a fetus to term. So I turned my back on the world of infertility and opened my arms to adoption. In October of 2005 my baby girl was born in Guatemala and in May of 2006 we brought her home. My other blog is dedicated to her story. It is all sunshine and roses over there she is perfect in every way!
After adopting Lilyana I was done. Our adoption made me understand that I did not need to carry a child in order to have a happy family. I would even tell you that I would rather adopt. Today that is still mostly true. In April of 2008 I got pregnant not by way of planning I might add. It was during Easter break. I laughed when the stick turned pink and readied myself for a DNC. I went to my first appointment with no anticipation or excitement. I was quite sure this pregnancy would end as all the others had. There was a strong heartbeat and the nurses laughed at my tears she measured just as she should and the first little splash of hope doused my hard outer shell. I made it to twelve weeks and then fourteen and my hard outer shell disappeared as I accepted the fact that I would be a mother again. At fourteen weeks I decided to tell my coworkers friends and family. I sang from the rooftops! At sixteen weeks I started to spot and my world started to crash. I went in to see my doctor and everything was still perfect. They told me not to worry. They sent me to a lab to get a fancy ultra sound. This is where I found I was having a girl. Lily was going to be a big sis! Worry was all I knew. I tried to live as if I wasn't worried though Peter and I took Lily to the ocean and I plastered a smile on my face. It was now June and thankfully I was on summer vacation. On the saturday before fathers day I woke up to use the bathroom and when I stood up a gush of water rushed out of me. I knew my water broke. I called the help line at 3am. My voice was shaky and I couldn't choke the words out but I finally was able to tell the doctor what happened. I obviously woke her up and her voice had the thickness of sleep in it. she told me that I wet the bed. The fact that I still had to use the bathroom did not change her mind about what had happened she told me that if I started having contractions to go to the emergency room. I went and laid in bed. I didn't want to wake my husband. 2 weeks earlier I made him rush home from work to take me to my doctors app because of the spotting I was experiencing only to be told it was fine. My doctor went as far as to tell me she would be surprised if I miscarried. I was scared I really did wet the bed and he was going to rush me to the ER for nothing. He had to go to work so as he went I pretended to be asleep not wanting to face anyone quite yet. I went to my parents house because that was the plan it was fathers day. I walked in the door and just burst into what Oprah likes to call the ugly cry. I scared the shit out of my daughter she still tells daddy that mommy was crying at Nonnie's (grandmas house) every once in awhile. My parents insisted on taking me to the ER. I was admitted and it took me all day to recieve an ultrasound. As I walked into my room the nurse told me how good I looked for being 18 weeks pregnant. It was lost on her that I had just lost all of my fluid and my belly was now flat. I had looked pregnant yesterday. I just shook my head at the compliment. I waited until 2:30 to call Peter and tell him where I was. He was a little angry at me but mostly worried. He got to the ER in record time and was there in time for the ultra sound. Her heart was still beating but you could tell that her movements were very stifled. It was a little like my body was suffocating her. The very nice doctor came in later to tell me I was most definitely going to loose my baby. I can still hear her the sound of her voice and see her awkward movements. She didn't quite know how to deliver this news. I remember it being strange to me that an ER doctor was having such trouble telling bad news. I thought she must do it regularly this just must not be her regular bad news.
As luck would have it it was impossible to get ahold of my doctor the next day because they were moving offices. I kept telling the receptionist it was an emergency. For some reason my state did not consitute an emergency. I was not pregnant enough. In other words I did not have a viable fetus so no one wanted to be bothered with me. I finally did get ahold of my very appologetic doctor. She told me she wanted one more ultrasound to be sure. I went for my 3rd ultrasound and made them push the monitor the other way so I couldn't see it. Told them I didn't want to know or see if her heart was still beating. I was terrified I would miscarry on my own. The twelve week miscarriage was haunting me I did not want to know what that would be like at 18 weeks. At 18 weeks I knew she had formed bone. It turns out 18 weeks is to late in a pregnancy to have a DNC so what I needed was a DNE. That is a polite way of saying that I had to abort my baby. This baby I loved and had named and wanted like crazy. How cruel and unfair life is. The chances of her surviving were very slim the chances of me getting an infection were pretty great. I had to make this decision to abort my baby so that I could continue mothering my other baby. What an unfair choice that is. So I was given a number to our local abortion clinic.
I called only to find that they only do my procedure on Thursday and Friday. It was Monday. She was very apologetic and asked why exactly I was making this choice because it looked from the ultrasound like I had a healthy pregnancy. Seriously did she not read my file!!!!!!!!!!!!! I explained to her that Lucy was a very healthy 18 week old fetus whom my body was suffocating! She seemed a little taken aback. She told me if I were to have contractions i would need to go to the hospital. There was nothing she could do to change I would just have to wait. They were the only clinic who would take a woman like me so I had no choice. That week is a blur. It is a hazy fog of tears and hope somehow that a miracle would change my diagnosis. There was no such miracle.
On thursday morning my husband and I made a trip downtown to a old building surrounded by fencing. We took an elevator down to a dank hallway with no decor, no friendliness. It felt a little like making my way to the underworld. I understood this could not be a friendly place. We waited in a hallway outside of a metal door for someone to come. A girl with too many piercings to count and a tatoo across her chest not covored by her scrubs came to let us in. I felt the need to run I felt my stomach churn as if I might throw up. I clung to Peter and stepped through those doors. The doors that in some minds cast me right to hell. I was already in hell there was no reason to throw stones.
A procedure like this takes two days. I will not go into the details except to say that there were moments when riskning my life by carrying Lucy seemed much more appropriate. At one point I begged the nurse to tell me that there was no way Lucy could survive. She could not give me the satisfaction. Told me the information I didn't want to know that her beautiful heart was still beating. I chose my own life. Later my doctor reassured me that she would not have survived without amniotic fluid. Gave me the piece of hope I needed the doctors in that moment to supply me with. Told me Lucy did not have a nervous system and did not feel any pain.
My nightmares today invovle all the babies whose lives were taken that day. That box I road in to the bottom floor of that dank building will forever sear my brain. It has been almost a year now the nightmares don't come so often. They have quieted.
Lucy is my Angel baby. I am quite sure she is watching over her big sister. I am quite sure she will walk with me all my days here on this earth. Her story is one I hope others do not have to repeat. Her story is my story. I hope by writing it here to quiet this story in my head. To think only of the good my angel baby did. She made me strong. She helped me give of myself in ways I didn't do before. She served a purpose here however short.
After adopting Lilyana I was done. Our adoption made me understand that I did not need to carry a child in order to have a happy family. I would even tell you that I would rather adopt. Today that is still mostly true. In April of 2008 I got pregnant not by way of planning I might add. It was during Easter break. I laughed when the stick turned pink and readied myself for a DNC. I went to my first appointment with no anticipation or excitement. I was quite sure this pregnancy would end as all the others had. There was a strong heartbeat and the nurses laughed at my tears she measured just as she should and the first little splash of hope doused my hard outer shell. I made it to twelve weeks and then fourteen and my hard outer shell disappeared as I accepted the fact that I would be a mother again. At fourteen weeks I decided to tell my coworkers friends and family. I sang from the rooftops! At sixteen weeks I started to spot and my world started to crash. I went in to see my doctor and everything was still perfect. They told me not to worry. They sent me to a lab to get a fancy ultra sound. This is where I found I was having a girl. Lily was going to be a big sis! Worry was all I knew. I tried to live as if I wasn't worried though Peter and I took Lily to the ocean and I plastered a smile on my face. It was now June and thankfully I was on summer vacation. On the saturday before fathers day I woke up to use the bathroom and when I stood up a gush of water rushed out of me. I knew my water broke. I called the help line at 3am. My voice was shaky and I couldn't choke the words out but I finally was able to tell the doctor what happened. I obviously woke her up and her voice had the thickness of sleep in it. she told me that I wet the bed. The fact that I still had to use the bathroom did not change her mind about what had happened she told me that if I started having contractions to go to the emergency room. I went and laid in bed. I didn't want to wake my husband. 2 weeks earlier I made him rush home from work to take me to my doctors app because of the spotting I was experiencing only to be told it was fine. My doctor went as far as to tell me she would be surprised if I miscarried. I was scared I really did wet the bed and he was going to rush me to the ER for nothing. He had to go to work so as he went I pretended to be asleep not wanting to face anyone quite yet. I went to my parents house because that was the plan it was fathers day. I walked in the door and just burst into what Oprah likes to call the ugly cry. I scared the shit out of my daughter she still tells daddy that mommy was crying at Nonnie's (grandmas house) every once in awhile. My parents insisted on taking me to the ER. I was admitted and it took me all day to recieve an ultrasound. As I walked into my room the nurse told me how good I looked for being 18 weeks pregnant. It was lost on her that I had just lost all of my fluid and my belly was now flat. I had looked pregnant yesterday. I just shook my head at the compliment. I waited until 2:30 to call Peter and tell him where I was. He was a little angry at me but mostly worried. He got to the ER in record time and was there in time for the ultra sound. Her heart was still beating but you could tell that her movements were very stifled. It was a little like my body was suffocating her. The very nice doctor came in later to tell me I was most definitely going to loose my baby. I can still hear her the sound of her voice and see her awkward movements. She didn't quite know how to deliver this news. I remember it being strange to me that an ER doctor was having such trouble telling bad news. I thought she must do it regularly this just must not be her regular bad news.
As luck would have it it was impossible to get ahold of my doctor the next day because they were moving offices. I kept telling the receptionist it was an emergency. For some reason my state did not consitute an emergency. I was not pregnant enough. In other words I did not have a viable fetus so no one wanted to be bothered with me. I finally did get ahold of my very appologetic doctor. She told me she wanted one more ultrasound to be sure. I went for my 3rd ultrasound and made them push the monitor the other way so I couldn't see it. Told them I didn't want to know or see if her heart was still beating. I was terrified I would miscarry on my own. The twelve week miscarriage was haunting me I did not want to know what that would be like at 18 weeks. At 18 weeks I knew she had formed bone. It turns out 18 weeks is to late in a pregnancy to have a DNC so what I needed was a DNE. That is a polite way of saying that I had to abort my baby. This baby I loved and had named and wanted like crazy. How cruel and unfair life is. The chances of her surviving were very slim the chances of me getting an infection were pretty great. I had to make this decision to abort my baby so that I could continue mothering my other baby. What an unfair choice that is. So I was given a number to our local abortion clinic.
I called only to find that they only do my procedure on Thursday and Friday. It was Monday. She was very apologetic and asked why exactly I was making this choice because it looked from the ultrasound like I had a healthy pregnancy. Seriously did she not read my file!!!!!!!!!!!!! I explained to her that Lucy was a very healthy 18 week old fetus whom my body was suffocating! She seemed a little taken aback. She told me if I were to have contractions i would need to go to the hospital. There was nothing she could do to change I would just have to wait. They were the only clinic who would take a woman like me so I had no choice. That week is a blur. It is a hazy fog of tears and hope somehow that a miracle would change my diagnosis. There was no such miracle.
On thursday morning my husband and I made a trip downtown to a old building surrounded by fencing. We took an elevator down to a dank hallway with no decor, no friendliness. It felt a little like making my way to the underworld. I understood this could not be a friendly place. We waited in a hallway outside of a metal door for someone to come. A girl with too many piercings to count and a tatoo across her chest not covored by her scrubs came to let us in. I felt the need to run I felt my stomach churn as if I might throw up. I clung to Peter and stepped through those doors. The doors that in some minds cast me right to hell. I was already in hell there was no reason to throw stones.
A procedure like this takes two days. I will not go into the details except to say that there were moments when riskning my life by carrying Lucy seemed much more appropriate. At one point I begged the nurse to tell me that there was no way Lucy could survive. She could not give me the satisfaction. Told me the information I didn't want to know that her beautiful heart was still beating. I chose my own life. Later my doctor reassured me that she would not have survived without amniotic fluid. Gave me the piece of hope I needed the doctors in that moment to supply me with. Told me Lucy did not have a nervous system and did not feel any pain.
My nightmares today invovle all the babies whose lives were taken that day. That box I road in to the bottom floor of that dank building will forever sear my brain. It has been almost a year now the nightmares don't come so often. They have quieted.
Lucy is my Angel baby. I am quite sure she is watching over her big sister. I am quite sure she will walk with me all my days here on this earth. Her story is one I hope others do not have to repeat. Her story is my story. I hope by writing it here to quiet this story in my head. To think only of the good my angel baby did. She made me strong. She helped me give of myself in ways I didn't do before. She served a purpose here however short.
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