small victories

Losing two baby girls to stillbirth and one to an early miscarriage has been a hard rock to swallow at times. The other night my mind was filled with memories of Ava's short time with us. I remember how scared I was waiting in the MFM waiting room with about 15 other couples--couples I really couldn't identify with for many reasons. We were at the two week follow up after a less than stellar 20 week u/s that showed severe growth restriction. At the time I misheard (or maybe heard right and had to protect my sanity) Ava's percentile rank at 15% when it was really 5%. Our doctor wasn't pessimistic or optimistic. We would just have to wait and see. The blood flow to the placenta was still ok and her heart rate was still good, too. I was sentenced to two weeks of couch potato rest and lots of tv watching.

I dreaded that ultrasound. This was July 5. Two days earlier I had a nightmare that I had started bleeding and the baby was gone. I woke up very shaken and scared. I tried to lose that feeling, but it never truly left me. I don't remember the sequence of the ultrasound as clearly as I remember Maddie's. I do remember asking why the hell this keeps happening. I was in shock--I had to have been. I remember going into an exam room and the doctor meeting with us and forming a plan. We knew what would happen. I would be induced. The day was about 100 degrees and we were worried about our dog if the a/c stopped working. We went home and packed...tried to take a nap and planned. We had been watching Mad Men on NetFlix and we tried to watch an episode, but mostly everything was a big blur.

We got back to the hospital at 8 p.m. My friend who has had a stillbirth came up to support us. They started the induction with the cervadil. Every 4 hours I was woke to check progress. Nothing happened the first night. The next morning was more of the same. Family started arriving. The day started to drag on. I felt more uncomfortable, but nothing was happening. Evening came. I was so tired but felt so bad since family and friends were still there to support us. Later it was just hubby and I...I started feeling nauseated and started throwing up. Then came the itching. I felt like my skin was going to crawl off me. My blood sugars dropped. I took off my insulin pump and let the nurses take over. The pain was excruciating. Finally after a few hours of miserable labor, Ava came to us quietly and peacefully.

All of this came to me while I was trying to sleep. I don't think I've allowed myself to feel it as much as I need to. I didn't try to push it away. I let the waves flow over me and eventually fell asleep.

I've been trying to work through the grief of three losses. My grandpa recently died and that was the catalyst that made me start working through the pain of all of my losses. I know I have a lot of work to do, but the good days are starting to outnumber the bad.

After returning to work, I begged off caring for any pediatric patients. The pain was just too much and it was too soon. My initial goal was to starting taking them again at the beginning of the year. I started slowly...I've only had a couple so far and they were 3 and 7. Yesterday an 8 month old was under my care. I was so nervous. Luckily the mom was awesome, involved, cooperative and asked smart questions. Many peds patients we have seem to have drawn the short straw when it comes to parents. Sometimes I feel like the doctors are admitting the kids to protect the kids from their stupid parents when they are sick. This mom and baby were the best under two crowd I could have possibly been dealt. Mom never questioned if I "had little ones at home" when we struggled to place an IV. She got it. I related to her. The baby was so sweet and so sick. I struggled at times to not cry when the baby cried.

While I was checking the babe's temp, the dad received a phone call. I don't know the whole story, but evidently someone is expecting a baby girl and her name will be Madalyn Jean. I felt my heart skip a beat after hearing this. I can't help but think that Maddie was telling me I was going to be ok.

Last night I was lying in bed telling hubby about my day. He was proud of me for helping the babies. I was pretty proud of myself, too. Not every day is great, but I'm counting this as a small victory.