Surgery

May the 7th marks International Bereaved Mother's Day, a day dedicated to mothers who have gone through any sort of baby, infant or child loss. It's a day to bring recognition to ALL mothers. I am a mother of two, I didn't get to meet either of them properly, I've never heard either of them cry, I never felt either of them kick, I don't even know their gender for certain. 

Today has brought me to the end of my week off with my husband, we have transformed our garden from an over grown, dark, claustrophobic space to a lovely light and open garden. We buried Passenger under her apple tree and it stands proudly next to Bean's apple tree, standing among pansies and carnations. It was a very hard day, it was difficult seeing her going under. We'd written some more notes for her and Bean which were obviously difficult to write. 

<<From this..to this!>> 😀

It's been a weird week, although it's been really positive and productive in terms of the garden and the house, I feel I've gone backwards in terms of my psychological health and grief. I've continued to feel down, my period still hasn't come I'm now in CD42. I'm sick of this never ending cycle, there are no signs of change. I took another pregnancy test yesterday - negative. I'm pretty certain I have not ovulated at all, although I did see a change in my CF I don't think it was enough to release an egg. Family say not to track and not to stress, it's pretty hard not to track, I notice everything now, and I think it's better to track in case I am asked any questions at my upcoming consultations at the hospital. It has been an up and down week, tears, frustration, laughter and happiness, pain and worry. The pain mostly relating to to my tattoos! I got the other feather done on Tuesday and I am so pleased with it, now I have the whole family with me, my babies walk with me everyday.

My last post led us to the day before my surgery, I didn't sleep that night, how could I? I'd never had any sort of surgery before, I was terrified but completely unanimated. The shock had ran so deeply I couldn't do anything but stare into space and wonder what I had done to deserve this. I slumped forward, I didn't have the strength to sit up, tears caught in my throat constantly, my eyes were rimmed in red, my cheeks had damp, salty streaks, my nose was hot and pink, my hair was greasy and unbrushed, my fringe was wet with tears plastered to my forehead. My mind was literally shutting down, it had taken too much trauma but I had to get to the hospital, I needed this to be over.

We got to the outpatients department, I brought some stuff with me - a dressing gown, slippers which happened to be my mother in law's as I still hadn't got round to unpacking mine yet. We checked in and we sat down in the waiting room, the tears came again as we waited. I shrank in the chair, almost bent double leaning my chest on my lap with Rob's arm around me. I didn't look around, I wouldn't have seen anything if I had anyway. A few minutes later I was called in on my own, I kissed Rob. I was really scared, I didn't want to go on my own, but the nurses said that they didn't really allow men on the ward as it was specifically for women's surgery. I followed her to my little bay, I confirmed I hadn't eaten or drank anything since around 8am, it was around noon by this point and I was already feeling thirsty. I remember seeing a couple of other patients on the ward, there was a lady to my right as I laid on the bed in the hospital gown that was throwing up all the time. The sound was horrific, terrible dry retching every 5-10minutes, she must have been exhausted. I don't know if she was having a reaction to the medication or whether she was suffering for morning sickness. The noise made me feel nauseous and I had no music to drown her out I really hate sick in general, I'd never be able to work in a club or a pub I wouldn't be able to deal with people being sick. All I could do was try to block her out until she went in for her procedure. There was another young girl opposite me in another bay, she was accompanied by her boyfriend I assumed and that's when it dawned on me - this ward housed women suffering miscarriages, complications in pregnancy and those with unwanted pregnancies. Of course I was making huge assumptions but the young couple can't have been much older than 15-16, I suddenly became incredibly envious and angry with them both. How could they go through an abortion when I had lost my very much wanted child? Why was that allowed in this modern world? I was so critical of that couple, thinking now, I had no idea what they had been through and I'm a little ashamed but I can't help what I felt and I'm only relaying my thoughts and feelings as they were back then. I guess I just felt such an overwhelming sense of injustice and I was projecting my anger of my loss onto them which wasn't their fault. It also pissed me off that she was allowed to have her boyfriend there with her! I'm suffering too if not more so! Again I'm ashamed to say I was thinking that. Now I accept that everyone in that room has had to make either a heart breaking choice or a heartbreaking choice has been made for them without their control. 

I shut the curtain, at least I had the sense to know when something was triggering me and it was better just to shut them out, or shut myself away. I was near a window and I stared out often as the time went by. The retching died away so I guess that lady went in for surgery. I texted Rob updating him on events, or lack of as the case was for at least the first hour. Eventually another nurse came round and explained that she had to give me the same medical management pills as before to soften my cervix in preparation for surgery as no incisions are made during the procedure. This time she inserted them, I remember her face afterwards, she looked disgusted, only for a split second but I saw it. There were no encouraging words, no bedside manner. She did what she needed to do and moved on. I put some paper panties on and wedged a huge pad between my legs. I stared out the window once more feeling the hot tears roll down my face again. It seems like I never had dry eyes during that whole month since finding out Bean had died, my eyes were always on the brink of overflowing at any moment. 

Another hour passed at least, it must have been past 2o'clock by now, I was gagging for a drink and my belly rumbled impatiently. The ward was quieter now, many of the women had been in to have the procedure and I got more frequent pop-ins from the nurses, I was getting desperate for the surgery now, my mouth was so dry my tongue was a clump in my mouth. I asked if Rob could come in and my wish was granted we waited together as the pills made my uterus cramp mildly. I was worried the pills would take affect and I'd start to bleed before I had time to go into surgery, I stayed laying on the bed to stop gravity from helping proceedings. 

Finally my time came, and suddenly I wasn't desperate for surgery anymore I didn't want to go in. But everything was already on it's way, the pills made me cramp, I'd signed everything, and in the end there was nothing I could do. I had to go through this. I knew it was the right thing to do. It was the only way. This would be the end of the awful physical part of miscarriage. After this I'd be able to get better, things would go back to normal, right? 

I remember walking down a corridor, yeah, walking, I wasn't on a bed. I was walking through the hospital, the young anaesthetist was behind me wrapping the comically over-sized hospital gown around me one and a half times and securing it into place. I shuffled along painfully conscious of the paper pants and maxi pad I was wearing. Then I was led into an anaesthetic room, a little room where they administer the general anaesthetic so you don't end up seeing all the offensive tools they'll use in you during surgery. I said that these rooms were a very good idea and I lifted myself onto the bed slowly and the anaesthetist told me that a lot of hospitals were starting to phase them out. Idle chit chat really, I was keeping a brave face pretty well. A few minutes later and I was ready to go under, then reality hit, this was going to be the end of my first pregnancy. This was saying goodbye to Bean, after four weeks of limbo and hating it all I was now terrified of leaving, what was going to happen next? I felt guilt rush throughout my body, I was killing Bean. I was killing Bean's pregnancy. Burning spikes pricked my eyes and I cried anew, everything stopped, the gas mask was hovering above my face, the young anaesthetist asked if I was alright. I choked out an answer "I don't want to say goodbye to my baby." She held my hand, I gripped it tightly and quietly sobbed for a few more seconds. There was such a big build up of emotions it was impossible to hold them all, I had let out a trickle to relieve some of the pressure and I started to relax back into the quiet state of despair, my strength left me and I let out a ragged sigh. I gave a slight nod and the mask was put over my nose and mouth I started counting down from ten and the world faded away.

I awoke 20 minutes later in a dumb and drowsy state overhearing conversations about London 2012, I spoke incoherently but was trying to tell the nurses that me and Rob had been to see the badminton. I don't actually know if those conversations were real or not, it's a pretty weird detail to remember! When I'd fully come round I was taken back to my bay where Rob was waiting for me, I was so glad to see him, he really was and still is a rock for me. I was brought some water and a sandwich I wolfed them both down instantly, it was well after 4pm by this point and I hadn't eaten or drank anything since early morning. The hospital couldn't let me go until I had been to the loo but I was so dehydrated I literally couldn't go. I drank another pitcher of water and waited, I was becoming so exhausted from the day and no sleep from the night before, I really wanted to go home and get away from this place. I shuffled towards the loo, the paper pants had been discarded at this point but I could feel a pad. I hoisted up the robe and looked down at myself, I was covered in iodine which took me by surprise and again I tried to understand what had happened to me. I managed a dribble of pee and I was allowed to go home. Rob helped me dress, I was scared of moving roughly and the anaesthetic was still coursing through my veins so I was slow and cumbersome. When we got home all I can remember is being on the sofa and examining my hand where they had administered the anaesthetic, it was bruised and swollen. I curled up and dozed in and out of sleep.

The next day was a Saturday, my parents travelled down from "up North" early to see us. Since all of this I've become much more open with my mum, we've always been really close but as a family we don't really show our feelings, especially the real deep dark feelings we might experience. So when they said they were coming down, it was to see if we were ok but also to help us clean up our house, after all we hadn't been moved in a week yet. We hugged with watery eyes and everyone got to work while I stood around an delegated. Rob had already taken up the carpets so my dad was removing the staples from the floor boards, me and mum were cleaning up as we went. We even popped a bottle of Champagne for moving in, it was bizarre, I was living two alternative lives that weekend, I was bleeding from surgery, coming down from anaesthetic, unpacking my life into a new house and inside my soul just shrank away into a black crumbly stone. But on the outside I was already practicing wearing the mask. Whether it was to protect Rob, my parents or myself I couldn't tell you, probably a mixture of all three. My parents left on the Sunday, I felt less groggy but was still bleeding lightly. I prepared to start my new job the following day.