Whenever someone asks me how many children I have, I always have to stop and think before I finally answer. As simple as the question is, it’s probably the most trivial question a person can ever ask me. I'd often say "Oh, just this one” or “just her". But sometimes I’d catch myself saying: "She's my second" or just plain "two". Not only is answering this a very difficult task for me, it’s also always a heartbreaking moment. Truth is, I should have had 2. It's just that I lost my first by stillbirth.
My first daughter or at least our first offspring was a honey-moon baby. She was the fruit of our first tryst of passion as a married couple. I was 26 and my husband was 24. We both had stable jobs although we didn’t have much then. Well, we still don’t have much now. But at least we were prepared and we were in so much anticipation. It seemed like the longest 9 months for us. We could hardly sleep during the last few days before my due date. We bought baby clothes and things even before the trimester and we've already picked out godparents a few months prior. We already planned the rest of our lives together with the new baby. Needless to say, we were quite ready and excited to become parents.
But the excitement slowly turned into anxiety as I approached my due date. A week before it, I suddenly went down with high grade fever. We consulted our OB Gyne who was practically family (She’s my husband’s cousin’s wife). The OB assured us that it was nothing to be worried about and that a day or two on Paracetamol would take the fever away. And so it did. But unfortunately, it took more than what it was suppose to.
The night after my fever went down, I had bloody show. We rushed to the hospital, thinking that it was just ‘time’. We were so elated that we really didn’t think anything bad would happen. When we reached the hospital, about 3am, the resident OB seemed roused and looked half-asleep like most of the nurses. They asked us to file and sign the necessary papers and about half an hour or so checked me and gave me an IE. When the resident OB checked the baby using the Doppler, I saw her fumbling with the monitor as she rolled the instrument over my tummy. It was then that I first felt a pang of fear as I saw or perhaps imagined seeing her faced twitch as she checked the Doppler. When I asked her what was wrong, she just said that my baby’s heartbeat was weak but it might also be the Doppler’s battery that might need changing.
About a few minutes after that, I heard her calling my OB. She was telling her that my baby’s heartbeat was weak. I did not know then what to say or even feel. I felt that it was really time to panic. Then I heard my husband asking the resident doctor about it. She said that we should not worry because they have the situation under control. She advised my husband to arrange the papers and check us in and to assist me in trying to do walking exercise to help with the delivery. And so, as we were assured that things were fine, I felt a bit relaxed but I still felt a twinge of discomfort and anxiety.
It was about 5am when I was brought to our room. My husband and I were advised to get some rest so we dozed off for about an hour or so. Around 6am, the resident OB checked on us again and this time with a new Doppler. The heartbeat we heard was still slow and weak. I was trying to make something out of the doctor’s facial expression but the stone-cold face relented nothing. Then, she injected something to my IV and said that it would help induce labor because my contractions were not as regular as they’re supposed to be. About 10 minutes after, I began to feel labor pains. But a mix of a different kind of pain seems to hurt even more deeply. It was fear. Fear of something unthinkable but something so close to reality then. I kept pushing the thought aside but I knew that there was really something wrong. Nevertheless, we followed doctor’s instructions to time the contraction intervals and to do some walking. My husband looked like he was going to cry each time the contractions came. The hospital didn’t offer epidural or anything of the sort and we had no idea then that there exists such a thing.
It was not until around 10 am when my attending OB arrived. I remembered her that day as if it were only yesterday. She had full make-up on and she looked like she has attended or at least planned to attend a wedding. She IEd me and checked the baby’s heartbeat using a new Doppler. After which, she left the room without saying a word. About 10 minutes after that, she arrived with a different Doppler and checked the baby again. We heard a very weak beat from the instrument as she instructed the nurse to send me downstairs to the Ultrasound room. My husband held my hand and kissed my head. I suddenly felt weak and nauseous but I tried to stay awake.
When we were lead inside the Ultrasound room, everything was blurry and I felt comatose. As she placed the Ultrasound Doppler and revealed the still image in the monitor, I suddenly felt shut down as if I couldn’t hear anything. I was like a dream, a nightmare that I wanted to wake from. I kept shrugging myself but it was no use. It was true and it was happening. Then, I heard to doctor ask us: “What happened? Didn’t you feel her this morning? “. She was asking questions that didn’t make sense anymore because I knew that it was over. She was gone. My baby was dead.
I tried to let out a sound, but for a minute nothing came out. Then I screamed. I screamed on the top of my lungs. But I was stopped by the doctor as she chided me wickedly: “Shh...you can’t scream here!” I could have killed her then! I could have strangled her to death. Part of me wished I did. But I was just too weak. I felt my husband slipping out of my hand. I saw his face ridden with fear, anger and sorrow. I almost lost it. And for a minute there, I really thought I did.
I was hauled out of the Ultrasound room and as I was crying, I felt pain. I wasn’t sure what exactly hurt more at that time, but I was in too much pain to discern or even think of anything. I was rushed to the delivery room where the nurse prepped me up. As they did, my mind seemed to move so fast that I could hardly stay still. I was shaking so badly, they had to sedate me. It was the worse kind of feeling. For the first time in my life, I felt so helpless and immobile. I knew my brain was still moving as I witnessed everything in blurry fashion. Then suddenly, I felt her slipped from me. During that moment, I cried in prayer. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that I would hear her cry. That she would come back to life. That everything was just a misunderstood or misdiagnosed. That everything was going to be ok. That she was alive. But it didn’t change. After a minute of hanging on and fighting for my consciousness, I finally gave up and fell asleep.
I was roused by my mom’s crying. When she saw me, she hugged me and cried with me. I cried because I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to live anymore. I wanted to die.
During those days, I was so sure that I wanted to end my life. But it was also then that I felt overwhelmingly loved by my family and friends especially my dear husband.
It was then when I saw how my husband’s faith salvaged whatever’s left of our family. I saw how my husband took it into himself to be stronger than he actually was. Not for his benefit but more for me. All throughout our ordeal, he never cried in front of me. He only hugged me and kissed me whenever I cried. Each time I had my bouts with reality, he was there to quote scripture in an effort to give me comfort. He helped me through it all while facing his own personal battles. But it was then that I saw, how confident he was in Jesus. His relationship with Jesus was probably the only thing he had to be able to lead the two of us into starting a new life. As he helped me regain myself, he led me to find a place I never thought exists. It was when I was resigned, surrendered and had given up that I found Him. We found comfort in Him. Jesus’ name filled our hearts every second during those days. His presence surrounded us like outstretched arms enfolding our hearts from within. It was then when I started to feel that my life was worth another try. And so I did. And this is where I am right now – in this new life that only He can give.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose. – Romans 8: 28 (KJV)
My first daughter or at least our first offspring was a honey-moon baby. She was the fruit of our first tryst of passion as a married couple. I was 26 and my husband was 24. We both had stable jobs although we didn’t have much then. Well, we still don’t have much now. But at least we were prepared and we were in so much anticipation. It seemed like the longest 9 months for us. We could hardly sleep during the last few days before my due date. We bought baby clothes and things even before the trimester and we've already picked out godparents a few months prior. We already planned the rest of our lives together with the new baby. Needless to say, we were quite ready and excited to become parents.
But the excitement slowly turned into anxiety as I approached my due date. A week before it, I suddenly went down with high grade fever. We consulted our OB Gyne who was practically family (She’s my husband’s cousin’s wife). The OB assured us that it was nothing to be worried about and that a day or two on Paracetamol would take the fever away. And so it did. But unfortunately, it took more than what it was suppose to.
The night after my fever went down, I had bloody show. We rushed to the hospital, thinking that it was just ‘time’. We were so elated that we really didn’t think anything bad would happen. When we reached the hospital, about 3am, the resident OB seemed roused and looked half-asleep like most of the nurses. They asked us to file and sign the necessary papers and about half an hour or so checked me and gave me an IE. When the resident OB checked the baby using the Doppler, I saw her fumbling with the monitor as she rolled the instrument over my tummy. It was then that I first felt a pang of fear as I saw or perhaps imagined seeing her faced twitch as she checked the Doppler. When I asked her what was wrong, she just said that my baby’s heartbeat was weak but it might also be the Doppler’s battery that might need changing.
About a few minutes after that, I heard her calling my OB. She was telling her that my baby’s heartbeat was weak. I did not know then what to say or even feel. I felt that it was really time to panic. Then I heard my husband asking the resident doctor about it. She said that we should not worry because they have the situation under control. She advised my husband to arrange the papers and check us in and to assist me in trying to do walking exercise to help with the delivery. And so, as we were assured that things were fine, I felt a bit relaxed but I still felt a twinge of discomfort and anxiety.
It was about 5am when I was brought to our room. My husband and I were advised to get some rest so we dozed off for about an hour or so. Around 6am, the resident OB checked on us again and this time with a new Doppler. The heartbeat we heard was still slow and weak. I was trying to make something out of the doctor’s facial expression but the stone-cold face relented nothing. Then, she injected something to my IV and said that it would help induce labor because my contractions were not as regular as they’re supposed to be. About 10 minutes after, I began to feel labor pains. But a mix of a different kind of pain seems to hurt even more deeply. It was fear. Fear of something unthinkable but something so close to reality then. I kept pushing the thought aside but I knew that there was really something wrong. Nevertheless, we followed doctor’s instructions to time the contraction intervals and to do some walking. My husband looked like he was going to cry each time the contractions came. The hospital didn’t offer epidural or anything of the sort and we had no idea then that there exists such a thing.
It was not until around 10 am when my attending OB arrived. I remembered her that day as if it were only yesterday. She had full make-up on and she looked like she has attended or at least planned to attend a wedding. She IEd me and checked the baby’s heartbeat using a new Doppler. After which, she left the room without saying a word. About 10 minutes after that, she arrived with a different Doppler and checked the baby again. We heard a very weak beat from the instrument as she instructed the nurse to send me downstairs to the Ultrasound room. My husband held my hand and kissed my head. I suddenly felt weak and nauseous but I tried to stay awake.
When we were lead inside the Ultrasound room, everything was blurry and I felt comatose. As she placed the Ultrasound Doppler and revealed the still image in the monitor, I suddenly felt shut down as if I couldn’t hear anything. I was like a dream, a nightmare that I wanted to wake from. I kept shrugging myself but it was no use. It was true and it was happening. Then, I heard to doctor ask us: “What happened? Didn’t you feel her this morning? “. She was asking questions that didn’t make sense anymore because I knew that it was over. She was gone. My baby was dead.
I tried to let out a sound, but for a minute nothing came out. Then I screamed. I screamed on the top of my lungs. But I was stopped by the doctor as she chided me wickedly: “Shh...you can’t scream here!” I could have killed her then! I could have strangled her to death. Part of me wished I did. But I was just too weak. I felt my husband slipping out of my hand. I saw his face ridden with fear, anger and sorrow. I almost lost it. And for a minute there, I really thought I did.
I was hauled out of the Ultrasound room and as I was crying, I felt pain. I wasn’t sure what exactly hurt more at that time, but I was in too much pain to discern or even think of anything. I was rushed to the delivery room where the nurse prepped me up. As they did, my mind seemed to move so fast that I could hardly stay still. I was shaking so badly, they had to sedate me. It was the worse kind of feeling. For the first time in my life, I felt so helpless and immobile. I knew my brain was still moving as I witnessed everything in blurry fashion. Then suddenly, I felt her slipped from me. During that moment, I cried in prayer. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that I would hear her cry. That she would come back to life. That everything was just a misunderstood or misdiagnosed. That everything was going to be ok. That she was alive. But it didn’t change. After a minute of hanging on and fighting for my consciousness, I finally gave up and fell asleep.
I was roused by my mom’s crying. When she saw me, she hugged me and cried with me. I cried because I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to live anymore. I wanted to die.
During those days, I was so sure that I wanted to end my life. But it was also then that I felt overwhelmingly loved by my family and friends especially my dear husband.
It was then when I saw how my husband’s faith salvaged whatever’s left of our family. I saw how my husband took it into himself to be stronger than he actually was. Not for his benefit but more for me. All throughout our ordeal, he never cried in front of me. He only hugged me and kissed me whenever I cried. Each time I had my bouts with reality, he was there to quote scripture in an effort to give me comfort. He helped me through it all while facing his own personal battles. But it was then that I saw, how confident he was in Jesus. His relationship with Jesus was probably the only thing he had to be able to lead the two of us into starting a new life. As he helped me regain myself, he led me to find a place I never thought exists. It was when I was resigned, surrendered and had given up that I found Him. We found comfort in Him. Jesus’ name filled our hearts every second during those days. His presence surrounded us like outstretched arms enfolding our hearts from within. It was then when I started to feel that my life was worth another try. And so I did. And this is where I am right now – in this new life that only He can give.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose. – Romans 8: 28 (KJV)
Comments
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comments! God bless!