Now that I am off drugs, I feel like I have my brain back. We met with the OB yesterday and I was armed with questions. A girlfriend watched the kids for us and as I was leaving her house, she said "I didn't think you would just lie down and take a c-section." Ahh, she knows me so well.
First, I would have a c-section of M and I, along with the care provider we choose, decide that the lesser risk if/when I get pregnant again is a RCS. But, that it is major surgery. It is painful. It is dangerous, especially if we want to have more than one more child.
But it makes me sad that I might miss out the amazing parts of birth that come only from labor and pushing a baby out. I want the bonding experience of labor for our marriage. I want to be fully aware and awake when I meet my baby for the first time on the outside. And I want that for my baby too. I want to be able to walk and move and care for my baby easily. My baby deserves a mom who can do those things.
So, I have begun my research. Just like when I wanted to VBAC, I research every night. This time it is harder though. It is harder because I don't have a baby in my arms while I do my searching. And it is harder because there just isn't information about scars like mine. It is so rare that there just aren't facts. There aren't statistics. There isn't anything.
So, that leads us to have to do the same things the doctors do. Find situations similar and infer from that. I have found a couple of doctors who are known for attending vaginal births with women who have a "special scar." M and I plan on talking with at least one of these doctors to get an idea of the risks involved. I feel like we will get a more real idea of what we are looking at from a doctor who supports VBAC after C-sections that weren't low transverse.
I don't want to get my hopes up that I can push a baby out, but at the same time I am not ready to surrender.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Just thoughts
It has been nine days since we found out that Anthony and I wouldn't both survive. It has been nine days since his heart last beat. It has been nine days that we have been missing the sweet boy we hardly got to know.
I feel so blessed to have such amazing people around me. M and I have been showered with love and prayers and we are so thankful. Friends have brought meals, came to just listen to us talk at night, watched the kids so we can grieve together, prayed for our family. We are so thankful.
In all our gratefulness though, I find myself so confused and angry. Why do babies have to die? Why do mothers have to make such hard choices? Why did I let them kill my baby?
I'm going to be really raw for a bit. It is hard to say the things I want to say, but I am going to say them. Maybe getting some of this out will bring me some peace. I am really just searching for peace.
I have so much guilt about allowing the things that happened to happen. I feel judged. I keep seeing
this picture and feeling like it is directed at me. I am fully aware that it is not, but it hurts because I feel such guilt. I feel like a murderer. I am scared that because of the choice I made, I won't be seeing my babies or S in heaven. What if I was supposed to put my faith in God and let him protect Anthony and me. I failed. I failed at keeping my baby safe. I failed at keeping my baby alive. I failed at trusting God.
I hate that I won't ever know what I was "supposed to" do. I will always question my choice. Every night, after Mike goes in to put the kids to bed, I start researching. I research all types of ectopic and extra-uterine pregnancies and look for statistics that show that the baby could survive to a point of viability. Nearly all the statistics show that if the pregnancy isn't terminated, the mother and the baby die. Like 98% of the time. Even in cases where the mother elects to have the surgery I had, mothers die frequently. It is scary. But I still question my choice. I think I know in my heart that Anthony was always meant to be an angel, but my brain knows that if its 98%, that means that 2% are ok. Why couldn't we be that 2%? We were already in a teeny tiny nothing of a percentage since this happened to us. Who is to say we couldn't be in that same teeny tiny percentage that survived? Maybe we should have taken that chance.
It is so hard to lose a child. After S died, people who had lost children told me that they understood because they had lost a child and I just (foolishly) thought that losing a child was easier because at least there was someone to go through it with you. When a spouse dies, you go through that alone. Now, I understand that neither is easier than the other. They are both hard, just different.
I also sort of felt like since S died, I was sort of exempt from bad things happening. Like our family had paid our dues. Foolish.
Then, the other night, I was thinking and I told M that if S and I were still married, if he hadn't died, and I had gotten pregnant again and this had happened, I wouldn't have gotten an ultrasound. S was as trusting of pregnancy and birth and I was (am?). And even less medical. If he heard a heartbeat, he would have been comfortable, just like me. If S and I were still married and this had happened, I would have surely died (not that I am blaming him or anything, his views on things were just different than M's-neither is right or wrong).
Then I got to thinking, what if S died so that I would live. If Anthony was always meant to be my son, and this was always meant to happen, then what if S had to die to save me. More guilt.
My BFF often says that we, as mothers, are professionals at guilt. She is right. I can find anything to feel guilty about. What I think I need to do is to figure out how to forgive myself for the things I can no longer change.
I just don't think I am ready to accept that Anthony is gone. I want so badly for him to be here. To still be pregnant with him. I want him to get to know his brother and sisters and for them to know him.
And that makes me think of all of our talks about tying to have another baby. Our family doesn't feel complete. I feel like there are more babies out there who are meant for us. But if we are going to take the risks associated with having more babies, I feel like we should have just taken the risks for Anthony.
So many what ifs. So many should haves. So many could haves. So many questions. So much guilt.
I feel so blessed to have such amazing people around me. M and I have been showered with love and prayers and we are so thankful. Friends have brought meals, came to just listen to us talk at night, watched the kids so we can grieve together, prayed for our family. We are so thankful.
In all our gratefulness though, I find myself so confused and angry. Why do babies have to die? Why do mothers have to make such hard choices? Why did I let them kill my baby?
I'm going to be really raw for a bit. It is hard to say the things I want to say, but I am going to say them. Maybe getting some of this out will bring me some peace. I am really just searching for peace.
I have so much guilt about allowing the things that happened to happen. I feel judged. I keep seeing
this picture and feeling like it is directed at me. I am fully aware that it is not, but it hurts because I feel such guilt. I feel like a murderer. I am scared that because of the choice I made, I won't be seeing my babies or S in heaven. What if I was supposed to put my faith in God and let him protect Anthony and me. I failed. I failed at keeping my baby safe. I failed at keeping my baby alive. I failed at trusting God.
I hate that I won't ever know what I was "supposed to" do. I will always question my choice. Every night, after Mike goes in to put the kids to bed, I start researching. I research all types of ectopic and extra-uterine pregnancies and look for statistics that show that the baby could survive to a point of viability. Nearly all the statistics show that if the pregnancy isn't terminated, the mother and the baby die. Like 98% of the time. Even in cases where the mother elects to have the surgery I had, mothers die frequently. It is scary. But I still question my choice. I think I know in my heart that Anthony was always meant to be an angel, but my brain knows that if its 98%, that means that 2% are ok. Why couldn't we be that 2%? We were already in a teeny tiny nothing of a percentage since this happened to us. Who is to say we couldn't be in that same teeny tiny percentage that survived? Maybe we should have taken that chance.
It is so hard to lose a child. After S died, people who had lost children told me that they understood because they had lost a child and I just (foolishly) thought that losing a child was easier because at least there was someone to go through it with you. When a spouse dies, you go through that alone. Now, I understand that neither is easier than the other. They are both hard, just different.
I also sort of felt like since S died, I was sort of exempt from bad things happening. Like our family had paid our dues. Foolish.
Then, the other night, I was thinking and I told M that if S and I were still married, if he hadn't died, and I had gotten pregnant again and this had happened, I wouldn't have gotten an ultrasound. S was as trusting of pregnancy and birth and I was (am?). And even less medical. If he heard a heartbeat, he would have been comfortable, just like me. If S and I were still married and this had happened, I would have surely died (not that I am blaming him or anything, his views on things were just different than M's-neither is right or wrong).
Then I got to thinking, what if S died so that I would live. If Anthony was always meant to be my son, and this was always meant to happen, then what if S had to die to save me. More guilt.
My BFF often says that we, as mothers, are professionals at guilt. She is right. I can find anything to feel guilty about. What I think I need to do is to figure out how to forgive myself for the things I can no longer change.
I just don't think I am ready to accept that Anthony is gone. I want so badly for him to be here. To still be pregnant with him. I want him to get to know his brother and sisters and for them to know him.
And that makes me think of all of our talks about tying to have another baby. Our family doesn't feel complete. I feel like there are more babies out there who are meant for us. But if we are going to take the risks associated with having more babies, I feel like we should have just taken the risks for Anthony.
So many what ifs. So many should haves. So many could haves. So many questions. So much guilt.
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