5 years

**damprye** · October 16th, 2011, 12:48 AM

I know I should be grateful for my two beautiful earthside bubbas and trust me I am, but I miss my baby, my first. I miss everything that baby meant, I miss the life that was meant to be, I miss the way that things were meant to be even though they never came to pass. We had been together for two years at that stage and he was the man I wanted to spend my life with, to Father my children. Finially on the 14th of February, we got out BFP which I had kinda expected seeing as I was two months late lol. We had a tiny appartment, rarely enough money to feed ourselves, fighting through the highs and lows of our relationship but we had a tiny life on it's way and we were doing all we could to provide for our baby. We were about to buy a cot that coming pay. We had saved so hard to get the money together but were so excited as just a few days before, we had gotten to see out lil bub's heart beating on DP's birthday.
One week later and my world had fallen apart. 11w5d- We had a big fight, I carried our fridge downstairs, went to take some clothes to the laundry, my reds actually, felt something falling down below, went to the toilet and caught a single clot the size of a 20c piece. I screamed for DP. He went to our local phone box to try and call a friend to take us to the hospital (we had no phones or car). They were "too busy", lost at what to do DP called an ambulance. I had no idea why he was taking so long, was pacing the house, then sitting because I didn't want my baby to come out, it was still entirely reasonable that my baby was still alive and that if I stayed very still, everything would be ok, at the same time I was begging to have my baby back because I knew what blood means. When DP came back, I fell in his arms and begged him to give me another baby. The ambulance showed up very quickly and they tried to reassure us that everything would be ok, that many women bleed during pregnancy and that it was good news that that single clot was all that there was. We waited in a special gynecology room at the hospital. The curtains, like all at that hospital, had grey swirling patterns on them. I tried to lose myself in them so I could stop thinking, try to keep my brave face on , try to pretend that everything was ok. They booked me in the next day for an ultrasound and let us leave, telling us that everything should be fine. As we were walking out the doors, they handed us a sleeve that had the films from the week before. I had hope at that very point in time. My baby had to be ok, I'd make sure of that.
The next day, we went together to the hospital for our scan, why did I get my hopes up? As soon as they started the u/s, they knew. They turned on the blood flow imagery (red and blue colours indicating bloodflow). There was lots of colour, it was almost everywhere.... almost. There was one section that they could not get to light up. They sent us in a taxi to go see the man that would be dealing with us now that it had been confirmed and my body was still holding onto that baby with all it's might. I refused to believe that my baby was dead and asked for him to make sure as I didn't believe the others were right, they had to of missed something, not done it right, my baby had to be alive. He didn't look for bloodflow or to check the heart, he simply said to me that if the baby was alive, we would be able to see movement at that age. I stared at my chubby baby (infection had started to set in and caused bloating) and willed it to move just a little to show me that they were still there, just one tiny flicker on the screen to prove them all that they were wrong and I could go home and my baby would be ok. He was nice, he didn't even try to turn it off until the tears were running down my face and I looked at him and said "why wont my baby move?" I looked once more as my baby disappeared from the screen, one last goodbye.
Because there were signs that infection had already began to set in and my body was still holding on, I was booked in for a D&C the very next morning. That night I started getting the cramps. I think that I had been holding on to the hope that everything would be ok so much and that I did not want to let my baby go, that I had been stalling the natural process but now I had accepted that tomorrow, my baby would be gone. The pains got very intense that night and continued and didn't stop. In the morning, we had to go to a different hospital than where we had been the days before. This hospital had a special section for this kind of thing and it soon became obvious that there were some that came to this section by choice. I was given two pessaries and a pad. They made the pains even worse. When the nurse came in to do obs, I tried telling her that I was in a lot of pain but she just gave me this cold stare and gave some snide remark. I felt like screaming at her and all the others. All that they had bothered to look at was that I was there for a D&C and assumed that I was getting rid of my baby. I was treated like garbage. All I wanted WAS my baby! I was supposed to be safe that day, 12weeks, not laying there in a gown curled up in pain waiting and hoping that they would take me in soon to stop the pain and then feeling like a piece of dirt for feeling like that. I wanted to cherish every second we had left together yet I kept hoping they'd put me to sleep already. How is one supposed to deal with those emotions? They should have been helping me, supporting me, not treating me like something they wanted to spit on.
The time came. They wheeled me into theatre. I tried to keep my brave face on, I done so well but as I started slipping under, I started to cry. I knew this was the last moment i would have my baby. Goodbye my baby. I don't remember much in the months afterwards. I know that we didn't DTD for quite some time. DP had already agreed for us to try again but I couldn't do it. I was scared at the thought of falling pregnant again and I didn't want another baby, I wanted the baby that I already had. I know I would rub my belly and hope that it was all a bad dream and that my baby was safe or that they were wrong, my baby was alive and had survived the D&C also. I remember that me and DP became me and XDP. He had been there for me through so much of that. He held my hand as they took me away but I never really came back. I ost a big part of me the day they took my baby away. My hopes, my dreams, my innocence, my life. My life may not have been perfect when I fell pregnant but I had everything I ever wanted, a family, and then I had nothing.

I now have an almost 4yr old and an 8week old, they are my new life, my everything. Still though, on nights like tonight, I just want to hold my baby, my first baby, hold him and cry about the horrible dream I had where he was ripped from me so soon. You would have been turning 5years old any day now, due 19th October 2006. I love you my baby, my angel, I will never forget you xoxoxoxoxo