It wasn't 30 seconds after my doctor confirmed my suspicion, the probe still on my belly, when Paul came walking through the door carrying a homemade breakfast and clothes for going home.
"Hey babe? I'm sorry but...the baby is gone."
The look of defeat covered his face as he dropped everything in a chair and came to me. I hugged him but my brain quickly moved to the next steps. I knew what was coming. Handing him my phone I went into mom mode.
"Call my dad. I need them to get out here. We have nobody to stay with the kids."
As he walked into the hallway, the doctor went over my options with me. Inducing labor would allow us to hold him, though it would be a long, hard process and with my history of hemorrhaging, I stood a solid chance of it happening again. On the other hand, a D&E would be the quickest, easiest physically on me, but we would not be able to hold or see our son.
Paul walked back through the doorway confirming his conversation with my dad and his agreement to get out to Germany ASAP. I relayed the options to Paul, though the decision was obvious, we wanted to hold our son.
As I sat indian style on the bed, my brain reeling in panic for my kids, they immediately began pushing me upstairs. I kept my head down avoiding any and all eyes contact. I had kids to take care of and I didn't have time to feel this yet.
"Mom, can you come? Either of you? We don't have anybody to keep the kids for that long and they won't let Paul leave when I'm on this medication. I need someone to get on a plane tonight. Please."
As I talked to my mom, I heard the doc giving orders and making preparations over her intercom. Very early onset severe pre-ecclamsia.
By the time I got upstairs and wheeled into an L&D room, we had the kids covered for the next 18 hours with a high likelihood that my parents would be on a plane within hours.
"I am so sorry for your loss", the nurse said. "Oh, it's okay, I had a feeling it was coming". She never twisted her face in confusion at my answer. Clearly my brain hadn't even turned to the baby.
"Mr. And Mrs. Duval, I know there is a lot going on but we need to talk about what is going to happen and sign consents". I looked up from feverishly texting people that needed information.
"I am starting you on this medication. You are going to be on it during your entire labor plus 24 hours after. It will make you feel absolutely terrible at first, you will feel hot, and sick but it will subside. Unfortunately, you will continue to feel bad and be foggy the entire time you are on it. This medication protects you from seizing" as seizure protection pads were slid onto every hard plastic part of my bed. Once you are into the maintenance phase of the mag, we will place pills to help you start dilating. As you know, your baby will be very small so you will not have to dilate the entire 10cm."
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm having my baby...and he's gone. This is insane. What in the hell. I just can't believe this. My brain was swirling in shock and disbelief. How in the hell is this happening?
No sooner than the nurse placed the catheter and dug the IV needle into one of the few veins left to poke, the mag was up on the stand, I was 900* and puking my brains out. It was sudden and instant. It felt like I was standing in front of an oven. It overwhelmed my entire body.
This entire time I kept glancing at Paul. He was in a state of shock and overwhelm, trying to support me, trying to hold himself together, and trying to complete the phone calls and texts my fingers were now too swollen to do.
"You are doing great, babe. I'm right here", he said.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped and the puking stop. Phew, I made it.
Apologetically the nurse said, "unfortunately we didn't have the full first dose in one bag so we have to do two" and round 2 started all over.
My body felt puffy and heavy, like someone had put insulation throughout my body. My brain was completely foggy and slowing down and my eyes felt like they had a gloss over them. The slower pace allowed questions to start entering my brain.
"Can you please prepare us for what he is going to look like? Will he look like a baby? I'm kind of scared". A swell of guilt washed over my body, I admitted it out loud, I was afraid of what my son would look like. How could I think like that, he's my son. But I had said it, it was the truth, and clearly it was not an unusual question.
"Yes, of course. Well, he will be very small. Because he is 19 weeks, his body will be formed, though his head may be a bit disproportionate to his body. He doesn't have all of his layers of skin so he will be a dark red/brown color. But he will look like a baby and we have little tiny clothes to dress him in. We have a small bassinet that has a cooling pad in the bottom that we will put him in. He can stay with you for as long as you would like. We have a photographer that can take pictures and we can make molds of his hands and feet."
"What if I'm scared of him or think he looks gross? What if I don't want to hold him or keep him in the room long", I tearfully asked.
"There is no wrong way to do this. Some people hold them and keep them with them for a long time, so people choose not to even see them. We want to do what you want to do. There is no right or wrong way."
After having the children to the hospital to break the news that not only would I not be coming home but we also lost their baby brother, I drifted into the oblivion of magnesium sulfate.
For 2 days, I laid here. My brain trying to process the massive events that had and would take place. During their hourly vitals check, the nurses were subjected to random deep questions about what was to come, how I was to manage, and sarcasm galore as I tried to distract myself. My nurses were my life. They walked me minute by minute through hell and allowed me to feel safe and loved. They were my battle buddies.
Despite having had 5 previous babies, my body did not kick into action and I laid there, mostly progressless for 32 hours. The moment of truth was coming. If my body wasn't going to cooperate and deliver this baby, we would have no choice but to do a D&E...an option that haunted my thoughts and made me quiver. We wanted to hold and bury our son.
Body, please, I am begging you, do what you know so well to do. I'm desperate. I want to see my son's face and I want to hold him. Please.
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