I feel I just need to get this off my chest, because I honestly feel like I'm going to implode. I don't really know where to start or how to say it, So I'm making it as a letter to my Angel Baby.
Dear Baby Smith,
Yesterday, when I arrived at Occasional Care to drop your sister off, I felt a warm gush in my pants. I thought I had wee'd myself so I quickly dashed off to the toilet and that's where I saw it; 2 clots the size of a mobile phone and so much blood it was dripping down my leg onto my shoe. I knew what it was immediately when I saw it and at that point it made total sense the contractions I had been having for a few days beforehand. I worried about you and instantly was struck with a frightening panic that I've only felt once in my life before. I cleaned myself up as much as I could and went and called Nanny to ask her to come pick up Olivia as I had to get to the Women's ASAP. I then called Daddy and he came from work so quickly, that I'm afraid to think of how fast he was going. In the car on the way to the hospital, I clutched my belly through the pain of more contractions and was so focused on somehow telling my body to take care of you and not to let anything happen to you.
When we arrived, the nurse immediately took us out the back and got me to show her my panties and how bad it really was. I knew it wasn't a good sign when she told me to lay down, cross my legs and not move a muscle. She then wheeled me straight to a free bed in the ED. I was still holding you, my sweetheart. I was praying to every god that would listen and to my guardian angels that I know surround me to please keep you safe. Daddy and I were so scared, but we tried to stay strong.
The ED nurse then came in and checked my BP and temperature and when she didn't look or seem concerned and the bleeding had slowed, I thought we were in the clear and I'd be discharged within the hour and I'd be back at home sewing new little clothes for you, daydreaming about holding another perfect child in my arms in 7 months time.
When the Dr came in, I wasn't completely wrong; I would be discharged within the hour, about 20 minutes, in fact. But I wouldn't be carrying you any more. I would be walking out of the hospital. Empty. The Dr told me that he was going to see if you were ok and if he saw any clots hanging down, he would just be pulling them out. As I laid back and the Dr inserted his instruments, the pain got worse. I was holding Daddy's hand so tight and so close I didn't want to let him go. When I looked at him, he was scared. In all the years, Daddy and I have known each other, I had never seen this look on his face.
That's when it happened, the doctor put his instruments down, put his hand so gently on my belly and said, "Kate, I'm so sorry, but you have miscarried". I won't be forgetting these words any time soon. I took my arm and put them over my eyes and tried so hard to hold in the tears. The Dr and midwife left the room after trying to tell me that it wasn't anything I did and that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. I didn't care. You aren't a statistic to me. Once they left, I saw out the corner of my eye that Daddy had gone very quiet with watery eyes. He would later tell me that his heart broke when he heard those words and all he wanted was to take you home, safe and back in my belly.
I didn't move. I lay on the bed and a wave of sadness just poured over me. I couldn't help it, a freight train of emotion had belted through me. I cried and wailed and at one point, the thought of not living had gone through my mind. You were only 9 weeks, but I still loved you as much as I loved your sister. Daddy and I would lay in bed of a night, talking and daydreaming of the day we would bring you back home to meet the rest of your family and we would all sit and cuddle you. Now I just feel stupid about buying those newborn socks last week.
The Dr came back in and checked on me and tried to calm me down. He asked if I wanted to see you, but he didn't realise that I already had. When he took you out and put you in the dish, I saw you. Laying there peacefully. Your beautiful ivory skin, little eye dots, like stumpy arms and legs. Undeveloped, but still perfect. It didn't work, he didn't calm me down or cheer me up, instead he left the room, in tears after I melted down and told him about the last miscarriage I had years before which was caused by other circumstances.
The drive home was quiet and for the first time since Olivia was born, Daddy held my hand the entire way home. It was good to see Olivia and Nanny when we got there and when Daddy took your sister to the doctors for her measles, I realised that life will go on and nothing is going to wait for me to grieve and get over this. But I sure as hell can take my time to get over this and while I don't think it will be any time soon, I'm sure I will come to peace with your passing some day. Until then, fly free my sweet, innocent angel. I know that your Great Great Nanna Bennett, will look after you for me until we meet again, one day.
With all the love in the universe and even more than I can even express,
I had a sh!t sleep with DD not sleeping through (she has the measles atm and nfi what to do about it) and reliving the miscarriage I suffered at the hands of my attackers and exDF 6 years ago just played around in my head again and again, the rape, the physical abuse, their "home made abortion apparatus" and my blood curdling screams just came back. I'm a wreck today and having my Mum just shrug it off saying "Well, it's not meant to be, This stuff happens, Get over it" just isn't helping.
Why can't the people who don't have anything nice to say just STFU and GTFO. Seriously. Whether my child was 9 weeks, 39 weeks or 9 months old, I loved him/her all the same.
ETA: and I'd just like to say thank you all to the April 2013 Mummys fb group for the messages of support and love yesterday. Thank you ladies xx