I woke up this morning and no more than 1.5 hours later, I was in a triage room on the Labor & Delivery floor of the same hospital we delivered Andrew. We'll be delivering this baby there as well, but I do not want to be anywhere near that terrible room for as long as I live.
I usually feel this little guy so frequently and with such tenacity. But this morning, he just wasn't budging. I tried it all and after the laying in multiple positions, waffles, and orange juice, we made the call. I was able to pick up the heartbeat on the doppler, but in case the baby was in distress due to slowed movement, we weren't taking any chances. The on-call OB told us to head down to L&D. We made that same drive on a similar Sunday morning as we did almost exactly one year ago. Luckily, we left just hours later with assurance that he was still alive and growing. Emotionally taxed to the max, but with our child still living.
Ray dropped me off at the door. Same thing happened last year. I sat in front of the elevators (this time not in labor) and was just paralyzed. I felt a few nudges, but nothing significant or as strong as they normally are. Ray came in and we sat there for a few minutes contemplating our decision. Do we head into L&D where they're expecting us and get hooked up to monitoring for peace of mind... but risk the flood of emotions and possibility that all is fine anyway and we were just overreacting? Do we wait awhile and just hope that he starts moving a ton and walk out without having to deal with the floor?
We mustered up the courage to enter the elevator. As soon as we were checked in, they ushered us into the triage room where they told us Andrew had passed away. Where we physically saw his heart completely lifeless almost exactly one year ago. As soon as we walked in and the nurse started talking about the gown and bag for my belongings, I lost it. I couldn't be in there. The walls were closing in on me and I knew triage room 101 so vividly. I saw the clock on the wall that I stared at as they were trying to find Andrew's heartbeat when I just knew we wouldn't ever be taking our firstborn home with us. Ray immediately saw my distress and asked that we be relocated to a different room. I really feel like my file should have bold letters across the top that state which rooms on that floor I should never have to be subjected to again.
New triage room and a much more calm Brandy. She hooked me up and in the process, the baby was kicking like a madman. I was more at ease, but since I was already there, we were required to go through all the motions. The hookup, the talk of stillbirth and miscarriage and last menstrual cycles and EDD. I was in tears, but they were confused. I was thankful to hear and feel some very bold kicks, but uncomfortable that I just walked into the room that started all these fears in the first place. Not more than 20 minutes later, we were wheeled down to have an ultrasound that was apparently ordered the moment I made the phonecall from my sofa. A full ultrasound was done and all was well. Baby is breech, but that's not a concern at this stage in the game. As far as I'm concerned, it will never be an issue. I just want this baby out safely no matter how it happens. The placenta, cord insertion, and all the baby's organs look great. He was moving nonstop and it was quite difficult to get all his measurements. He was measuring in at 1lb 12 oz. at this stage in the game. We're still in the second trimester but past viability. I think that's what makes us so on-edge. We have the potential to call some serious shots. If the baby were in distress but still alive (as we figured worst-case from the kicks we felt at the elevator), we could've saved him since the chances of his survival at this point in the game (albeit not the best chance) is possible and likely.
I was just beginning to think of how proud we were that we hadn't cried wolf or ran into the OB or Perinatologist's office yet. Hah. So much for being calm. Let's just hope I can keep it together for the next few months. Pregnancy after loss is so hard. He moved hardly at all this morning, and then in about 2 hours, he moved about 150 times. No joke. Made us feel like complete freaks for making the L&D visit, but when you've been to the depths of despair for the very same issue, there's no way we'd be too sure all was well.
As we stood in the elevator to head back home, I couldn't help but feel this huge urgency and sadness that we weren't back "making things right" just yet. We weren't delivering a baby that we could take home just yet. We still aren't guaranteed that. We're still waiting for our chance to parent our baby. Nothing will ever be "made right", but talking about an experience in Labor & Delivery, I just wished that time was on fast-forward and we were going there to be induced and take one of our babies home, finally. This wasn't the time and obviously I know it was not a suitable time since he has a lot more growing to do. But my heart was just aching and yearning so much for that experience to really anticipate and look into the eyes of my own child. The time will come. But man... why does it have to go so slow?
Foodie: Piccolo Sogno Due
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