I lost my baby born on Wed., Dec. 13th at 12:06 AM. I think of him as my baby boy even though I was only 20 weeks and 4 days into my pregnancy with him. I loved him and his passing was so unexpected. I had a doctor's appointment earlier in the day on Dec. 12th. My OBGYN checked my baby's size and heartbeat and told me that he was fine, but she became concern when she saw a blood clot the size of a walnut and when I told her about a frequency of fluid discharges. She sent me to see my specialist and that's when it all went downhill. My specialist told me that I was leaking amniotic fluid, that there was a tear in the sac that holds my baby. I was sent back to see my OBGYN and she told me that there was a slim possibility that it will seal, a 5 - 10% chance. I remember seeing a similar case on T.V. where this happened to a woman carrying twins and her tear healed and she delivered healthy babies. I had faith that I would in that 10% where the tear will seal. A., Aria and I went home and I went right to bed to rest after eating a quick meal. I started feeling cramping pains around 9:30 PM and I tried to will them away. I thought maybe it was the milk that I had that was making me feel uncomfortable. Maybe I was just constipated. The pain started to get worst but I still refuse to believe that anything was wrong. Eventually, A. grew really worried and convinced me to go to the hospital. We got there around 10:30 PM. I really didn't realize that I was having a miscarriage until I was in the hospital room when the nurse told me that she can feel the baby's foot when she checked me. A part of me thought that he'll be okay even when I was in pain. I wanted to have him so badly. I thought that everything was normal. I thought the bleeding and the leaking of fluids was part of a normal pregnancy. Little did I know that it was the amniotic fluid leaking from my body and slowly killing my baby. The nurses inserted an IV in my arm and gave me some medicine to dull the pain. My OBGYN arrived shortly and she gave me more medicine ( I don't know what). The med. overtook me quickly and I was in a haze. I felt like sleeping and I was hallucinating. The doctor told me to push but in my state I screamed no, I want to keep him in. I think part of me was thinking that if he's inside me still, he'll survive. I don't know how long the whole process was but eventually I mustered the nerves to push and he was out of me. I never heard a cry from him. The medication didn't help because I felt like I wasn't quite there. I overheard the nurses ask A. if we have a name for him and A. said 'Spencer'. The doctor asked A. if he wants her to do chromosomal test on Spencer and A. said no. I wanted to tell him otherwise, that I want to know if he was normal, but I was too drugged up to say anything. I want to know if my body killed a perfectly normal healthy baby. Now it's too late to find out if he was chromosomal healthy.
I spent a night at the hospital and left around 3:30 PM the next day. A. and Aria came to visit and to stay with me from 11:00 AM and on. I was so alone in the morning until they arrived. I felt so empty and hollow.
I have to write this down, no matter how painful so I don't forget. I want him to know that I miss him tremendously and that he was very important to me.
The next couple of days afterwards were blurs. A. took three days off of work to be with me and Aria. During that time we went to a funeral home and did the necessary paper works to get Spencer cremated. Because he was born after the 20 weeks mark, he needs a death certificate and he must be buried or cremated by the law, yet he was too young to be counted as viable to be saved at the hospital. So ironic.
We also hit the local mall (trust me, I didn't want to be around people but A. insisted that we go) to do his Christmas shopping for his family and also to go to Things Remembered to see if they have a nice box with a lock to put Spencer's ashes in. The salesperson would come over and ask if she can help and I had to bite my tongue to not blur out, 'Yes, can you find me an container that will make a great urn for my dead baby boy?" We didn't find anything there so we left and shopped for all of A.'s relatives. Everywhere I look I spotted pregnant mothers and infants. I hate life. Yes, I'm bitter and angry. I'm angry with myself for killing my baby and angry with myself for not doing a better job of trying to save him. I failed.
I have to write this all this down, no matter how painful so I don't forget. I want Spencer to know that I miss him tramendously and that he was very important to me. He will never be forgotten.