|May 30, 2013||Posted by Mabel under Parenthood|
“Good bye may seem forever. Farewell is like the end, but in my heart is the memory and there you will always be.” – From the Fox & the Hound
On Sunday, I was hospitalised for bleeding. I was supposed to be 9-10 weeks pregnant with Bubs No 3. As the gynae examined me via a transvaginal ultrasound, his face changed. He began to look really grim.
“I’m so annoyed…hmpr. Sorry but I’m just annoyed because it doesn’t seem good.”
It was then that I got the news – I was having a miscarriage. There was an embryo but no heartbeat. Also it was small, too small for a 9-10 weeker. It seem that the pregnancy had stalled sometime around Week 6-7 of gestation. He ran through the options – because the size is still quite large, he can’t let me go home as he feared the bleeding might get out of control so I have to check in and then he’ll do a D&C the next day. Chances are, he said, it was a chromosomal defect but who knows?
I ran through the motions of being hospitalised. Everyone around me looked more devastated than I truly felt…to the point where I started feeling awkward.
Am I supposed to feel devastated and bawl my eyeballs out?
Am I suppose to collapse…or do something extreme?
Bubs No 3 was unplanned. In fact, I still remember screaming bloody murder at the hubby when I found out. Then we took a step back and said that this was a blessing, that many people out there want kids but can’t have any, that we were lucky and should be grateful. Despite the craziness of it all (packing, moving to another country), we began to look forward to an addition to the family.
Then Sun/Monday happened.
The first thing I could think of was “Dang, what am I going to tell my parents?” Then I gave the whole situation some thought. I could have easily just dwelt on the half empty glass – was it my fault? was it something I did? why now? why this? – but I chose to look at things differently.
My hubby asked me how I felt when I told him that I had to stay at the hospital. I didn’t sugarcoat my words but instead told him the truth – “I’m fine. The timing just wasn’t great.”.
Yes, I am sad but I am not devastated. Things happen for a reason. It always has. I want to look at the silver lining which is that I have two lovely children, that this is my body’s way of coping with a defect/problem, that this is perhaps God’s path for us. In a way, we can now focus on the move and the children, things won’t be so hectic and maybe then, it will allow us to consider if we want another child or not AND that I will be able to give my full attention to that baby.
Not feeling devastated doesn’t mean that I will forget. This is something that you just don’t chuck away in a corner, cover it with flowers or a cloth and say, voila, it’s over, time to forget about it. For the rest of my life, every time someone asks about my medical history, it’ll be there. Every time I look at ultrasound photos, I’ll be reminded of that little 6 weeker that I saw and of what could have been.
It may be another goodbye but it isn’t the end…