Image from Disney's "Tangled"

Thursday, April 5, 2018

A Tribute Part 2

When it Rains, it Pours
August 2017

A lot of it blends together.  This actually happened August 18th, but in my memory, it went with August 25th.

Before one of my doctor's appointments - now I can't remember which one - I was driving to work.  It was disgustingly hot, and the AC takes twenty minutes to work in my car. My commute is fifteen. I usually drove to work at 6:30 in the morning, but it was a teacher work day, so I was driving at 7:30. Man the difference an hour makes. I was so unaccustomed to the traffic, I didn't expect it to be so busy. I got over into my exit lane, and as soon as I did, the woman in front of my slammed on her brakes. No obviously, I was changing lanes onto an exit, I was not going fast, but with how packed traffic was and the split second she left me to respond, I ended up kissing her back bumper at about 10 miles per hour. 

So I pulled over to exchange insurance. As I was getting out of the car, her two kids in the backseat turned around, waving and smiling at me. I waved and smiled back as the woman got out of her car. I asked if she and the kids were ok, to which she said "yeah." She looked at the scratch on her back bumper and got back in the car. Uh-oh I thought to myself. So I whipped out my little slide phone and took pictures of both her car and mind. After a little bit, she still hadn't come back out of her car. It was HOT outside, and I was now late for work, so I went up to her passenger window, and I asked her if she wanted to exchange insurance, and she said no. 

She was calling the police.


What a wonderful way to start the day! We waited 2 hours in that heat for the police to show up, and then he wrote me a ticket for not keeping proper distance between our vehicles. He then notified me of my court date. I was enraged. Everything else he said was not processed through the red that was flowing through my eyes and ears. A ticket? A court date? For a scratch? This was my first vehicular accident EVER. My hormones kicked in instantly, and I was hysterically crying by the time I got to work. My supervisor did not know what to do with me. Three hours late, a sobbing hot hormonal mess, and the meeting was about conflict resolution (in the classroom). 

I was barely present through the meeting, and left as soon as there was a break to call my insurance office. Naturally, the woman had already filed the claim and stated that the accident physically injured both her two child passengers and herself. What?! The smiling and waving children that you said were physically injured? If they needed to go to the doctor, it was probably because you kept them in the car for TWO HOURS on blistering hot July morning. I couldn't believe this. 

At least I had my doctor's appointment to look forward to.

After work, I met Daniel at our apartment on the way to the doctor's office. We were so excited to see our baby. We were back in the ultrasound room in no time. The lady started the ultra sound, and I immediately knew there was something wrong. I looked at Daniel and back at the screen. 

"Are you sure about how far along you are?" she asked. I had done the NFP calculations in comparisons to the doctor's expected due date, and they were only one day off: March 31st and April 1st.  So, I answered in the affirmative.

"Well, either your due date's wrong or this is a bad pregnancy."

Bad pregnancy.

What?

Bad and pregnancy shouldn't be in the same sentence together let alone should describe one another. I was numb. Just like that she told me I could clean up and see the doctor. Bad pregnancy. I barely remember walking back to the doctor's office. I have no idea what Daniel said to me although I'm sure it was reassuring. Bad pregnancy. We went and got blood work done and then returned to the office. When we got back to the room, that's when I lost it. I was uncontrollably sobbing. Bad pregnancy? But how? I had felt this baby. I had known this baby. The baby was real. The baby was here. What does she mean Bad pregnancy? 

After a little consoling, I cleaned myself up a little so I wouldn't be a mess when the doctor came in. Finally, he came in. He was so kind as he both gave us an opportunity to hope while realistically explaining that it looked like I was already in the process of having a missed miscarriage. Because the baby had already stopped growing two weeks prior, he discussed options we had. Options. I was numb. My body had a deadline of 2 weeks before medical action would need to be taken to protect my health and my future ability to have children. 

But we would have hope. He scheduled a follow up blood test on Monday and a follow up ultrasound the next Friday. It didn't matter though. When we got to the car, we were a disaster. We were not as eager to make phone calls, so we didn't right away. This was not good news. This was not joy. And now, we had to share this grief, this sorrow, with so many because we had not been patient enough to wait until the ultrasound one week later.

The next week was agony as people gradually checked in and were shocked into silence. What is to be said? What could make this better? I was carrying around a dying child. My dying child. I knew that my baby would die. It was only a matter of when. 

A week and a half later, sliding right in under the deadline. God called my baby home. So desperate had my body been to hold on to this baby, that it not only clung to the baby a full month after it had already started to die, but for another two weeks after that as well until I finally ended up in the Emergency Room. 

I'm sharing this 8 part tribute for two reasons.

1) For my baby Raphael, named so because Daniel says, "He's our angel now." You brought us such joy and taught us so much about who we would become as a family.

2) 60% of first pregnancies end this way - with an inexplicable loss of life. Daniel and I have always looked at our lives as a witness for the benefit of others. The remainder of these parts are details of my recovery process. The number of people who came through the woodwork sharing their stories was unbelievable and comforting, so here is mine. In case someone else needs to know. You are not alone. You will get through this. In general, sharing stories of suffering can be beneficial both for the teller and the listener.

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