The Deets on My First Day of School

I was not looking forward to this day. Well...I should say that most of me wasnt looking forward to this day and a small part of me was looking forward to it.

I have sort of been on a break from school since the Saturday after losing Jeslyn. I'd decided that I could not spend my time trying to focus on studying for a final exam that I knew I would surely fail. So, I turned in all the homework I had plus my project and told my professor that I needed to take an incomplete in her course and come back next term to finish the final (I was somehow able to finish all the work in my course so that all I needed to do this term was to take the final exam). Luckily, she was very supportive and allowed me that luxury.

Adding to my fear of beginning school again was the fact that I'd be taking a daytime class...starting at 9a. It has been a LONG time since I've taken a 9a class. Like 7+ years long, so, this made me nervous. I also had established a great study group with my anatomy and physiology ladies J and T, and I didn't want to have to take my microbiology class alone. But, J doesn't need to take this class (she's on the path to becoming a radiologist) and T couldn't take the class at the same time as me. So, alone I will be. Oh, and did I mention that I've been an emotional and mental wreck as of late? Rightfully so, obviously. But, seriously...how and the hell can I focus on learning and studying about microbes and viruses and things of that nature when I can barely find enough mental strength and capacity to remember to do the things I'm supposed to do on a daily basis? It's only been just over two weeks since the worst day of my life and I am still in that stage where I think about it a lot and I replay the events leading up to that day and the day itself over and over in my head. But, I am somehow supposed to stop doing that between the hours of 9a-12:50 and focus on learning the principles and techniques and what not of microbiology. I'm rambling now, but you get the picture. I did not feel prepared to start this class. 

Fears engaged and coffee in hand, off to school I went...and, I'm pleased to report that I did it. I was able to sit in lab and focus enough to listen and respond to my professor. I was able to learn how to do a quadrant streak with an unknown bacteria that I will eventually identify at the end of the term. I also met a few girls in my class that I think are very nice and that will likely form my micro study group. I even sat and talked with one of them for forty-five minutes - and was "normal" while doing so (or I hope she thought I was). I did fine in lecture as well. I paid attention, took notes, and asked questions. 

All in all, I felt like the first day of this term went well. Maybe school will provide some sort of outlet or constructive distraction for me? I guess only time will tell.

A Productive Day

Today felt like a very productive day for me. This is what I did:

*Woke myself up and got dressed for the day

*Woke my daughter up and dressed her for the day + got her off to school

*Made myself a lunch for school today – yup, for school (more on this in another post)

*Sat in an hour and twenty minute intro to microbiology lab and was able to keep myself from drifting away into sadness and depression

*Had a 45 minute conversation with someone who I met in my lab. She’s a very nice girl (she’s 21…makes me feel old) and she’s likely going to be one of my study buddies this term

*Sat in an hour and fifty minute intro to microbiology lecture and stayed focused and present

*Grocery shopped for the next few days (we’ll leave for California on Thursday morning)

*Sprayed our planter bed with Moss Off to prep it for tilling and planting (can’t wait to get those gerber daisies planted)

*Renewed our OMSI membership

*Watched one of my favorite shows, “Scandal”

*Picked up Isla from school; played with her for about an hour

*Cooked dinner and had it ready for Isla to eat just after 6pm (she DEVOURED it)

*Wrote a retro blog entry while Isla ate her dinner

*Bathed Isla and got her to bed

I did ALL of this today. Did I think about Jeslyn and miss her today? Absolutely. But, today I didn’t let missing her, my feelings about the decision we made, my grief, or the many things that have been running around in my head and coloring my emotions and interactions as of late stop me from being productive. I kept myself busy all day today, and, that worked for me. But, as I sit here and type this…I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, I can feel the sadness sinking in, I can feel the guilt bubbling up in my chest. It’s quiet, I’m alone…and I am not busy. Is this what my life is going to be like? Every time I am alone and not running around like a chicken with its head cut off I am going to be consumed with sadness, anger, guilt and grief? Will time heal my wounds and make me “normal” again? Or, is this my "new normal"?

I guess only time will tell, but, I have a hunch that time doesn’t really heal wounds and all it really does is put space between you and a life event and force you to figure out how to live with the grief, the sadness, the anger, the guilt, and the bevy of emotions you felt at the start.

OMSI & a Playdate

It’s Saturday today and that means family time. When we don’t have school or work, anyway. We’re on spring break from school at the moment, so family time it is. 

Since I am finding it incredibly hard to be in public, today morphed into a Daddy/Daughter date for Alberto and Isla. Sure, there are places I go in public…like to the grocery store or to Lowes, etc. I even went to the beach and out to a park and dinner last weekend. But, when going out consists of going somewhere especially for kids (I know, I know…I mentioned going to the park), I shudder at the thought. For now, it hurts and makes me so sad when I see women walking around with their round pregnant bellies on full display. It makes me think about how just a few weeks ago, I was pregnant with my own child. I had a beautiful baby girl growing inside my own soft and pudgy belly and even though I had yet to feel her kick me, she was there…alive. Fast forward to today and my womb is empty. Gone is the life of my child and all the plans and dreams I had for her and our family. Whenever I see pregnant women and their bellies, my mind goes straight back to that day, what happened on that day and how I miss my baby and have been grieving losing her ever since. So, I try to shield myself from falling into that place as much as I can. I’m sure you understand. Not only does seeing pregnant women put me in that place again, seeing moms with small infants also puts me in that place. I try to avoid this as well. Luckily, those two things sort of go hand in hand…and sometimes, are both displayed at the same time (a double mind f*ck). It was mentioned to Isla yesterday that we would go to OMSI today. Both Alberto and I have learned that Isla remembers EVERYTHING we tell her. What this means is, if you tell Isla anything about going somewhere specific (or vague, for that matter), you’d better be willing to go because she’s going to remember that you mentioned it. Not only is she going to remember you mentioned it, she’s going to ask you about it or bring it up. So, when Alberto asked Isla what she wanted to do to (this was like 12+ hours after he’d mentioned OMSI to her before…and there were 10-11 hours of sleep during these 12+ hours) this morning, she promptly replied “Go to OMSI!” See? Told you. OMSI it is.

Alberto and Isla left around 9:45a and I decided that instead of sitting on my a** and being lazy, or, thinking about how sh*tty my life feels right now, I was going to do something. A little spring cleaning. We’d let our dining room that is now our work out room get filled with misc things that don’t belong in there. Not to mention I stashed a ton of boxes in there yesterday when the carpet cleaning guy came to clean our carpet (everywhere except the dining room because we have such little foot traffic in there). My task was daunting, but, I tackled it and got it done right as Alberto and Isla came back from OMSI. I cut all the boxes down to size so that they could be recycled, I shredded the MOUNDS of papers and receipts in our shred “pile”, I gathered up all my random holiday décor and put them away in a closet, put Alberto’s random tools in a box to keep them together (he never knows where anything is because he doesn’t have an official tool box in our garage yet), organized our dumbbells and anything else in the room that would stay. During my cleaning, I had an emotional conversation with my Mom over the phone where I broke down and cried about Jeslyn. Eventually, I had to tell my Mom I had to go so that I could compose myself and get back to what it was that I’d sat out to do. I was determined to get it done. Shortly after Alberto and Isla arrived, Al put Isla down for nap and we moved the computer out of our downstairs bedroom (my Mom's new room when she comes back to stay with us in June) and into the workout room. So, it’s now a workout room/office.

I stayed busy all afternoon, and, I liked that because it helps me to keep my mind from wandering to that deep and dark place that it’s been in for quite some time now. When Isla woke, we went to Costco to buy a few things and then came back to give Isla dinner and await the arrival of her friend K. She’s not had a friend over to play at our house in a while, so, when K’s mom mentioned not being able to take her to an evening party, I offered to watch K at our place while her and her husband went to the party. I’m so glad I did, because, Isla and K had a BLAST. They ran around our bonus room like chickens with their heads cut off. They played dress up, shot hoops, played with Isla’s Thomas train and track, took turns sliding down Isla’s slide, and even made a picnic in Isla’s circus tent. I mean…these girls were none stop from the time K came over until we put Isla down to bed at 9:30p! We NEVER let her stay up that late, but, because of all that’s been going on lately and how I’ve felt guilty about sheltering Isla over the last few weeks, we let her live a little. K was ready to retire too, so we let her lay low in Isla’s pack n play with her ipad while we waited for her mom and dad to come back. When they did, she was so happy to see them and I was happy that I’d had a productive day, and, I fulfilled my mommy duties by making my child happy. All in all, it was one of my better days as of late. 

2 Week Check-Up

I woke up this morning feeling very sad and not wanting to face what I had to face today. It is been two weeks since I had the D&E done and I knew that I would have to come back today for my check-up. We’d scheduled it before the D&E took place…when we came back in the afternoon. I’m sure you’re thinking…what? You had to go back to that place? Yeah, my thoughts exactly. But, we were told it was necessary to make sure that my uterus had contacted down to a smaller size.

Begrudgingly I got up at 7:10a and I went and took a shower/got myself ready for the day. After I was already I went upstairs to wake up Isla and get her ready for school. She was happy to see my face and I was happy to see hers. She’s so very sweet in the morning…cuddles, kisses, and whispers. But…in the back of my mind, I was sad and scared because I knew as soon as I dropped her off at school I would have to get back in my car and drive to a place I never wanted to see again.

The whole way there I cried and although probably not safe (because it was and still is pouring rain), I texted back-and-forth with Alberto about the things that were going through my head. The thoughts that I was having and the emotions I was feeling and about my fear of going back to this place. In a short period of time (you know, that whole Friday light thing) I parked in a parking garage and since I was about 25 minutes early, I sat there for a while I continued texting back-and-forth with Alberto. Eventually 9a (my appt time) was approaching and I had to get out of my car and walk from the parking garage to the clinic. 

When I got there, I was still 5 minutes early, which was fine. I pressed the button to let them know that I had arrived. They asked what my name was, I told them and they buzzed me in. What a terrible feeling. The last time I was here, I came to terminate the life of my child and here I am today, childless, and in this waiting room...again, fighting back tears while waiting for them to call my name. Call my name they did, and I walked alone through the main hall of this place and to my horror, straight back to the room that I was in the last time I saw my baby alive. ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME?!?! Next thing I knew the woman was asking me that dreaded question "how are you?". 

Can I just say...I hate that question. I'll never understand why in situations like this people ask that question, because, the answer is something you don't want to hear, TRUST ME. The answer is something that you're not prepared to hear. THE ANSWER is not a simple yes or no. So please do me a favor…if you know someone who's going through a situation like this (or any kind of situation where they are grieving a loss), do not ask them that question. You really already know the answer, because, chances are, it’s written all over their face. So, please just don't ask the question. 

Since I had to give her some response I simply said the answer to that question is not a simple one, which is the truth, and that was all I was prepared to say. Then she said “well, why don’t we start with how you’re doing physically?” I told her that I was fine…some bleeding, some cramping, some insomnia. But, mostly I was fine. She shook her head and then asked me if I have plans to see my regular doctor or if I'd made an appointment to see my regular doctor, and I told her no. She kind of made that sound that someone makes when they are disappointed (was I supposed to make an appointment?) and then she asked me if I felt like I was depressed (See? I told you…it’s written all over a person’s face). I didn’t answer, and, instead, told her the genetics counselor that we worked with gave us the number of a grief counselor and I had planned on making that phone call today. She was pleased with that. Next she asked me to undress myself only on the bottom and when I was ready, she would come back to check to make sure that my uterus had contracted down to a smaller size. She came back, I laid down, and she did the exam. She said that everything felt great, that my uterus was nice and small again and that I was good to go. She made some small talk about Kaiser and about Mother Joseph Plaza (which is where our genetic counselor and Kaiser’s perinatology dept is located) and then said once I put my clothes back on that I was free to go. I got myself dressed and I walked out of that place for what I hope is the last time. 

I hope to never have to step foot in that place or a place like that ever again in my life.

A Breakfast Date & More

Before my dentist appointment at 1 o’clock, my very dear friend J came over. I’ve mentioned J before. But, let me just say…I LOVE this lady. I absolutely love, cherish, and adore this women to no end. You know when you meet someone and you just know you like them, like, right off the bat? That’s what happened with J. She was just cool as a cucumber and, smart as can be. I sought her out in our Biology 232 class as a study buddy and luckily, she agreed. I don’t know what the hell she saw in me, but, she agreed…and we’ve been friends ever since. For a while we just saw each other at class and in our study sessions. But, I knew I wanted to see her socially as well. I knew I wanted her in my personal life and not just my school life. So, over time we started to see each other socially. Not enough, though, I might add. I always feel like we don’t get enough time together when we are together. But, I am grateful for the time we do get.

Before I get into the rest of this post, I just want to say...CONGRATULATIONS S & J!!!! I've mentioned this before as well, but, they were married in a beautiful ceremony at the courthouse in downtown Portland on 1/31/14 and went on a fabulous honeymoon to Nicaragua shortly thereafter. I am so happy for them, and, I truly wish them love, happiness and everything in between.  

Okay, so, back to the post…

J came over today in her pjs which was perfect, since I stayed in mine (my favorite Navy sweats…they belong to my sailor - Alberto is a Navy man - and they are so comfy). We’d talked about going out to breakfast but I didn’t feel up to it, so we decided to stay in (the night before). I felt bad, so I put together a nice little breakfast of muffins, coffee, orange juice, water, scrambled eggs, and fruit. We sat down at my table and we just talked. We talked for HOURS. I looked at my phone once, to show J the email from the nursing program at PCC (I was explaining what happened with my hiccups n such), and it was 10:50. The next thing I knew, it was 12:30 and I needed to get my butt ready to leave to go to the dentist. But, that’s how into our conversation we were. J is just such an amazing listener. She let me talk, and talk, and talk about everything I’m going through. She let me talk about what I went through with the D&E and how horrific it was for me. She even shared some personal experiences of her own with me (which I won’t go into here), and, it made me feel good to hear someone else’s story for a change. J is just so eloquent with words. She just has this way about her that makes me feel so comfortable in sharing my most personal thoughts and feelings. Even better, we talked about everyday things too. Things that had nothing to do about my life or about Jeslyn. That felt good too. The whole visit felt good. And, I am just so thankful for J and her patience, her love, her friendship. I just love me some J!

Sadly, after rushing J out (sorry lady), I headed off to the damn dentist. Again. I’m so sick of the dentist. This makes my THIRD time this month. Who the hell goes to the dentist three times in one month? Me, that’s who. To make matters worse, I was late leaving and ran into a road closure. There was a man standing in front of the closure sign dancing at me and pointing the other way. I guess he was trying to tell me to turn around? So weird. I turned around and made it to the dentist office 15 minutes late. Whoops. Luckily, they didn’t mind and I went straight back…for my third filling. There was an emergency bridge procedure that needed to happen right in the middle of my filling. But, I didn’t mind. This gave me some time to get the extra novocain they gave me to kick in, and, for me to read another blog I’ve been reading to help me cope with my loss. Eventually, they finished and eventually, I got out of there. For the next 6 months, hopefully. It was weird how different a mood I was in when I was at the dentist last Wednesday compared to today. I was in a better mood today, and, funny enough…I think my dentist and his assistant picked up on that. They were much more talkative today (the assistant, especially) and I felt lighter when I left. Although I was no less numb today than I was last week…both physically and emotionally. That damn novocain.

PS – J had told me over our girls weekend in February how much she didn’t like the Oscar nominated movie “Gravity” and struggled to even finish it. Well, once again, J and I are on the same page…I not only didn’t like it, I fell asleep on it. Some of the only sleep I got, since I didn’t get much of any last night. 

Also, I want to give a quick shout out to AM. Thank you for having Isla and I over for a playdate and dinner. It was nice to see you girls and D. 

A Slither of Happiness, a Flood of Sadness

The day started out like most Tuesdays and Thursdays. Isla and I affectionately call these days “Mommy and Isla days”. I wake Isla at 7:30a for breakfast, we eat breakfast in our bonus room while she watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Jake and the Neverland Pirates (her new fave). I know, I know…tv. But, I think she actually learns some things from these shows. I swear she learned the sound a sheep makes from Mickey Mouse. Anyway, Isla and I played for hours in our bonus room and in our downstairs great room. We played with her legos, we drew pictures on her chalkboard easel, we played inside her circus tent, we read books. We did a lot. Then I made her lunch and she ate well. This girl can put down some food when he’s eating something she enjoys. You should see her when she eats cereal…the mounds of cereal she gets on her spoon and fits in her mouth are incredible. After her lunch, we played for another half an hour, because, at about 1p is when it’s nap time.

Not long after I put Isla down for a nap, I started on getting myself something to eat for lunch. Luckily, all I was doing was re-heating a meal that one of the amazing moms from the moms group I’m apart of (shout out to my TV ladies) brought for us to eat. While I was in the process of doing this, I heard a sound come from my phone, so, I looked at it and saw one of those banner notifications from my gmail account at PCC go across the screen. I thought I saw the heading of the email say “PCC Nursing Program”. I immediately got hiccups, because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I get nervous, I get the hiccups. Weird, huh? I continued to finish making my lunch because there was no way that I was going to open that email yet. I’m one of those people that needs time to calm down, breathe and prepare myself for a possible disappointment before I look at test results, open an important email, or make a difficult phone call. By the time I sat down with my lunch, I couldn’t eat it because I was so nervous. I knew what I had to do…I needed to call Alberto. He has this way of calming me down and reassuring me that everything is going to be okay, no matter what. So, I called him and he answered, of course. He did what he always does and talked me down and assured me that no matter what happens, he loves me, believes in me, and is proud of me. Because I felt close to him (as close as I was going to get at this point in time, anyway), I decided to open the email while I had him on the phone. So, I opened it…and, 

I WAS CHOSEN TO MOVE ON TO THE NEXT ROUND OF APPLICANTS for the nursing program!!!! 

Holy sh*t. This is a big deal, because, I’ve been working towards this very moment for 6 terms. I’ve been working my ass off studying like a mad women and getting A’s. STRAIGHT A’s…but, make no mistake; I didn’t get those A’s without an overwhelming amount of blood, sweat and tears. Some days and weeks were pure agony, and, I am just so proud of myself for coming out on the other side having met my academic goals. That was a feat all its own. Making it to the next round of the application process at PCC is another feat all its own because 800-1,000 people apply to this program every.single.year. That means I was chosen to sit for the proctored essay (that’s what’s next – then based on points combined from the application and the essay, they pick the 100 applicants with the highest score to get into the program) from an average of 900 people. How crazy is that? I have absolutely no experience in health care and I somehow made it to the next round of applicants at the premier AASN (associates of applied science in nursing) program in my area. I’m going to say it again…HOLY SH*T! And thank goodness, because, right now I could not take another bit of bad news, another heartbreak, another reason to be upset and sad. 

I go in to do the proctored essay 4/15 and right now, I’m not nervous. I’ve always been a pretty good writer, or, so I’ve been told. But, I am sure I’ll be nervous when the day comes because I’m that kind of person, too. I always worry and stress and get nervous over important things. I am human, afterall.

After congratulations from Alberto and from my mom and sister (I called my Mom next), the momentary happiness went away, and I was back under my black cloud. I decided to watch one of my all time favorites: Sex and the City. Whenever I am feeling alone or down in the dumps, Sex and the City always gives me a break from what I am feeling because I adore Carrie Bradshaw and her three besties. They can make me laugh, giggle, and feel a little like myself again…if only for half an hour. Per episode, that is. But, I can never just watch one – kind of like that Lays saying (bet you can’t eat just one). Or, is it Pringles? I don’t know, but, you get the idea.

I don’t know when it happened, but, at some point in the afternoon a light switch was flipped and I just felt sad. Overwhelmingly sad. Alberto noticed and asked me what was wrong and I told him I didn’t know. I just knew that I felt this overwhelming sense of sadness. I mean, obviously it has something to do with Jeslyn. 

[Wait...yes, that is our Angel Baby's name: Jeslyn. I don't exactly remember when we came to an agreeement that this is what we would call our dear daughter. But, that is her name and it means "blessed".]

But, nothing happened specifically that triggered it. I was just in a haze and I honestly didn’t know why. Because Al suggested it earlier in the day, we decided to go and have frozen yogurt after dinner to “celebrate” my getting chosen to move on to the next round of the application process at PCC. So, as discussed, we packed ourselves up and headed to Menchies – our spot for frozen yogurt. I just didn’t feel in a celebratory mood, but, whatever…we were there, so we were going to have the frozen yogurt. Isla was delighted, and, it’s always nice to see her happy. We finished up pretty quickly and headed back home because Isla’s 8p bedtime was quickly approaching. While on the way home, that sadness just came bubbling to the surface, but, I just started crying in the car. I always try to keep it together in front of Isla, so, I pulled it together before we made it home. But, as soon as she was down, the waterworks started. I just couldn’t stop crying. We were supposed to watch “The Wolf of Wall Street” (it was on pause, as a matter of fact), but, I just couldn’t stop crying. I started thinking about why I was crying (Alberto was doing all these things…going to the bathroom, getting his work clothes ready for the next day so I was alone lying in bed), and, I think it was for a number of reasons related to Jeslyn. But, one thing in particular was getting to me: did God take away my baby because he’s going to give me nursing school? Would he do that? Would he make me choose one over the other? Because, if I had to choose, nursing school WOULD NOT BE MY CHOICE!!!!!! I would choose Jeslyn a trillion times over!!!!!! F*ck nursing school!!!! There’s always nursing school. But, Jeslyn…I only got one shot at her, and, she’s gone. She’s gone. Why couldn’t I have both? I could’ve done it. I could’ve done nursing school AND have my child here with me. Really, God…I could have done both. I would have done both, gladly. But, now…I don’t have a choice. And, nursing school isn’t even guaranteed yet.

Yup, this was definitely why I was crying, because, how can I feel happy and celebrate about reaching this step and moving closer to my goal in becoming a nurse when I feel like God took my baby away so that I could reach this goal? I know I am not supposed to question Him, and, I know that His will is His will. But, man…I just want my daughter. I JUST WANT MY DAUGHTER, DAMN IT!!!!! I just want her back in my belly, safe, and healthy. I want to feel her kicking (I never got a chance to feel that), I want to gain the weight, be uncomfortable, have constipation. I want to experience all the milestones of pregnancy, and, try to deliver my baby via a VBAC and prove to myself that I can do it. I want my baby back and all the things that come with growing her little life inside of me.

Instead of that, I have this…this grieving, this heartbreak, this profound sadness and hurt. Oh, and the possibility of going to nursing school. I should be grateful for that…for having the possibility of going to nursing school, and, I guess I am. No, I am, under all that I am dealing with and going through; I am. But, it just doesn’t feel good right now because my baby, my dear daughter, is dead…and so are all the plans that I’ve made in my head for her and our family with her in it.

At some point, I stopped crying and we eventually watched “The Wolf of Wall Street” - it was good. But, that wasn’t a surprise to me…Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio are like the Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen of cinema. They’ve not made a bad movie yet, in my humble opinion. This movie was no exception. And for what, like three hours, I was whisked away into the crazy life and times of Jordan Belfort. Good gawd. What it must’ve been like to be him and be in his world. I’ll never know what a life like that is like, but, I do know that Leo was fabulous in this movie and it gave me a few hours of relief from my damned black cloud. So thank you Leo…your acting never ceases to amaze me.

Gymbo Mail

Today was a mostly "normal" day. I woke up, took Isla to school, and returned home to our house. By myself, alone. I actually spent a lot of time writing, which, has been helping me a lot. I remember when I had a conversation with Pat, our genetic counselor (she called to check up on me the Monday after the procedure), she’d asked me if I had written anything down. You know, in a journal. I told her no, but, I had planned on writing a journal or maybe even a blog at some point. I wanted to write things down so that I don’t forget what we went through, so that I remember the pain and the hurt and the heartache that we suffered when we lost our dear daughter, and so that I would have something for Isla and any other children we have to read one day. 

[all of the blogs you've read thus far are written in present tense, but, have been written after the events of that specific day]

In the afternoon, I went to the grocery store to buy a few things…mainly vegetables for Isla, milk, cereal and candy. Yes, candy. I somehow knew that I would need candy on the day of the procedure so I planned ahead and bought myself a few bags of candy from Winco (our local grocer...along with Safeway and Fred Meyer). You know, just the essentials: gummi bears, sour patch kids, and sour worms. Anyway, since then, I’ve been on a candy rampage, and, I cannot stop eating it. Every time I’ve been to the store, I can’t help but buy myself another bag of gummi bears and sour patch kids. I did stop eating the sour worms, so, that’s progress…right?

Okay – on to the point of this post: Gymbo Mail! After getting Isla from school, putting our food away, and heading to the park for a nice afternoon in the sun, we came home to get ready for dinner. While I changed out some laundry, Alberto and Isla took a walk to the mailbox and they brought me back a package. I knew it was from Gymboree because there was a Gymbo sticker on the big manila envelope. I opened it, and it was the sweetest thing ever: a huge card with a handmade pot of gold on it. There were square pieces of treasures coming out of the pot of gold and each of them was a hand written note from one of my former Friday morning Art III class students. On the inside of the card it read “We love teacher Jennifer!” So incredibly sweet. I miss all my ART III and Sports kiddos. 

Little jewels like this help me to remember that although a terrible, tragic and unthinkable thing has happened to me and to my family…there is still good in the world and, people are thinking of us, loving us, and supporting us through this ordeal.

So, thank you to my Gymboree family for thinking of us, praying for us, supporting us and generally being wonderful people. 

Other Blogs and Inspiration

D (an amazing mom, someone I admire, and a friend of mine) gave me the link to a blog that I've been reading over the last few days. It's a blog written by a mom who has an angel baby and it has so helped me through some tough hours. The writer of the blog came across an organization in Australia that writes angel baby names in the sand, takes a beautiful photo of it, and sends it to the baby's parents. Her post on this inspired me to head out to the beach on this gorgeous day and write my own baby's name in the sand <3 We decided to name her Jeslyn because it means blessing. Below are a few photos from our day at the beach...

Building a sandcastle 

Just relaxin'

Having a snack in her cute beach chair

Enjoying her Tillamook chocolate ice cream

For my Angel Baby <3

Although losing our daughter has brought us such profound pain and sadness...she is still a *blessing* from God and we take some comfort in knowing that we will see her again one day. Until then, she lives on in our minds, in our hearts, and in the few memories we have of her during her life in my belly.

New Adventures

It's so funny how when you live in the Pacific Northwest, if its sunny outside, that means you HAVE to go outside. There's this unspoken rule, and, you feel real pressure to spend time outside if the weather is nice. So much so, that I actually made a pact with myself to take Isla outside if the weather is nice enough to play outside. ha I guess I feel like she doesn't get enough play time outside. So, when its sunny, not raining, and above 45 degrees (revised from my 50 degree threshold from last year)...we're at a park near you! 

But, today is Saturday and that means we have gymnastics at 11:15a. It's not the best time for an activity on a Saturday because it doesn't leave much time afterwards to do anything but have lunch and a quick half hour of play before its naptime. But, whatever...Isla is a mover and a shaker, and, this girl needs an energy outlet like a gymnastics class gives. So, off to gymnastics we went.

Now that Isla is almost 3, she's in a non-parent participation class. When I first heard that the class Isla was registered for didn't include a parent, I was apprehensive. Apparently, rightfully so...the first week of class (this week will be her third) was a disaster. Isla was running all over the gym, not following directions, and generally being a butthead. Oh, and her teacher kept calling her "Lyla"...and as it was told to me by Alberto (I was at my Saturday math class, so I didn't get to attend the first class) all he heard all class was Isla's teacher yelling out "Llllllyyyyyllllllaaaaa!!" I guess I can see why she didn't listen to the teachers calls...she was saying the wrong name, after all! 

Anyway, this week in class was great. Isla did so well with listening and following directions. She loved the swing (three kids could fit on this thing - it was massive) they did and as always, she adored the foam pit. It's so cute to see her little body jumping off the edge of the pit, fearless, straight into the abyss. I am so proud of the progress she's made in just 2 weeks! I'm sure it'll only get better from here. After class, we all headed home for a quick lunch, a little play, and a nap. For daddy, too. I however, didn't nap. I wrote...and wrote and wrote.

When Isla's nap was over, we decided to get our butts outside! When we arrived to Washington Park, Isla was beside herself with excitement. She just couldn't WAIT to get out and play. So, we did just that. There was a huge, old school aluminum slide and I thought Isla would be afraid to try it. But, boy was I wrong. She climbed that thing like a veteran and slid down it without the slightest bit of worry or fright! Cutest thing ever. We also played on the swings for a while...one of her favorite things to do. There was a cool statue there too (to commemorate the Louis and Clarke expedition) and Isla was delighted when she saw a depiction of George Washington's face on one of the sides of the statue...she exclaimed "look! A quarter!" It was so hilarious and cute. After a while, we decided to go and find the actual children's playground. 

We finally found it, and, holy bageezus...it was an absolute madhouse. But, Isla loved it and I was happy to see her happy. Since we were already downtown, I suggested we go to a restaurant called Shandong. I'd forgotten that the last (and first) time I was there was when I was still pregnant (I went to lunch there with my friend J). I thought about that the whole way there and was sort of upset at myself for not remembering that (because I knew it would make me sad). I swear, it's like Isla knows things, because, she was an absolute joy at dinner. She ate everything, was polite and used her in-door voice. She was the perfect little dinner companion. And then...the best thing happened. She leaned over, put her head on my shoulder, and said "mommy...you're the best". Then she said "can I kiss your face?" and planted a sweet little kiss on my lips. It's amazing how our children know when we need their sweet kid love and they just lay it on us, unprompted and completely genuine. After that, all my hurt, sadness, and anger subsided for a while and I was able to enjoy a nice dinner out with my family.

Feeling thankful for my very sassy, but incredibly affectionate almost 3 year old.

Can't ever get enough of the swings 

"Look!" She's a very tactile driven little girl...touching everything 

I feel like Jeslyn is with Isla and Alberto in this photo, shining down on them <3

Dinner with my little lady

Back to Work

Today, Alberto went back to work. I knew it would be difficult, because, I wasn’t ready for him to not be by my side yet. Alberto has been with me, every step of the way since this all started happening…exactly a month ago, today.

Wow. I’m just going to take a step back and say…wow. I can’t believe we’ve been going through this turmoil, through this purgatory, through this crazy nightmare for a month. It was exactly a month ago today that I got the call from Pat (genetic counselor) about my blood work and what it meant…or could mean for our child. I HATE that day, and, I’ll forever hate that day. F*ck February 19^th. F*ck it.

So…to make matters worse, I have a damn dentist appointment today. I’ve always liked the dentist. Seriously. I’ve never been one of those people who despise the dentist. I like my teeth and I like getting them checked on to make sure they stay nice and to make sure my smile stays nice, too. But, today was NOT the day. I honestly feel like I’ve had enough poking and prodding lately. The last thing I felt like doing today was having a dentist poking around in my mouth, shooting me up with novocain, and using all kinds of instruments I don’t like the sound of, doing things to my teeth. But, I went and I suffered through it. My dentist is actually a really nice man. He’s gentle, he’s attentive, and he’s good at what he does. It’s just…sitting in one place like that, not moving, and listening to my inner thoughts for two straight hours is not really what I need on this day. 

When it was over I was glad; I paid for my services, walked to my car, got in it…and I bawled. I don’t know why, but, I suspect that it was because I just miss feeling "normal". I miss having a growing baby in my belly. I miss having milestones to look forward to. I miss knowing that in about 7 months, we were going to have a little addition to our family. I miss being excited about the holidays and about seeing Isla being a big sister. This is my new "normal", and it down right blows. It's heartbreaking, gut wrenching, and absolutely unfair.

Eventually, I pulled it together long enough to start driving, and I decided I needed to make myself useful. So, I got some things done…I got a certified copy of our marriage license, bought some manila envelopes, drove to the post office, bought stamps, mailed off our passport renewals and a thank you note to a friend, and then I headed to Lowes. There I bought stuff we need to revamp our yard: moss killer and seed, an edger, and a few garden tools.

Then, it was time to go home and be with my thoughts again…damn it. 

However, shortly after I got home, Alberto came home. Just to be with me, because, he knew I wasn’t ready to be alone. So we laid together. He held me, we slept, and it was nice. I love this man. I really, really do. Sometimes…I really don’t know how I would ever live if I didn’t have him. He is the ying to my yang, he is my lighthouse in a bay of fog, he is my love…my forever, through thick and thin, ride or die love. I love you Alberto. 

Leaving on a Jet Plane

It’s time for my Mom to go home. I am sad, because, having my mom here has been so nice. My mom was such a big help while she was here. She did laundry (like put it in the machine, dried it, folded it, and put it away), she cleaned the bathrooms, tidied up countertops, made meals, played with Isla. Hell, she even helped me with some yard work. Oh, and she washed my sheets and freshly made my and Alberto’s bed for us, so that when I got home from the procedure I would have a nice, clean bed to cry in. But, most importantly…she was just here. And, I don’t know about you, but, having your mom around when you’re going through something just helps. It always has, and, it always will.

So, I just want to say a special thank you to my mom for being here for me and my little family during this awful time. I love you so much, and, I am super anxious for you to return in June. We’ll make it work this time…I promise!

Meal Train (Oh, and St. Paddy's Day)

So I mentioned this before, but, I am going to say it again (and probably many more times). The moms in my moms group are amazing women and, some of the most generous, loving, and caring people I've ever met. Whenever I need anything, I know I can count on these women. That said, when I shared what was happening in my life with my pregnancy and with our baby girl, I never expected them to come together and support me in this way.
Some of you may have heard of this, some of you may not have. But, there's this very genius thing called a Meal Train that I've not experienced in my life...well, not before today anyway. Apparently, when people have babies (or they lose a baby in my case), the people in their life get together and create a meal train. Basically, a friend sets up a train on a website (there are several out there - my friends used http://www.mealtrain.com/Default.aspx) that includes info like the name of the people receiving meals, their address, allergies or things they don't like, the days the train is scheduled to take place, and any misc info needed (cell phone numbers, good times of day to deliver, etc). Then, the administrator can invite people via email or maybe even post the link for the train on their Facebook page (that way the train is available to lots of the individual(s) friends and family). Once the particulars are set up and the train is made public to family and friends, those who want to participate can sign up for a day that works for them to bring a meal to the recipients. The meal can be homemade or store bought, whatever the person bringing the meal decides. And then, well, the meals start coming! The ladies in my group set this up THE DAY I shared what was happening with them. Today is the first day of meals for my family and I just feel so lucky to have friends in my life who are willing to help and support us in this way. Especially since I don't have any bio-family here in Oregon. 
For our first delivery we are supposed to receive some delicious soups and bread from a very good friend of mine. Although I know she won't stay for long, I am glad that I will get to see her face and give her a big hug.

UPDATE [3/18]: Wow. That's all I can say is wow. C, my friend, brought us the most amazing care package yesterday for our first day of the meal train. Not only did she bring the soup and bread she promised, but, she brought other goodies too. She brought a bottle of wine, two boxes of Girl Scout cookies, chocolate golden coins for Isla (since it was St Paddy's Day), a super thoughtful puzzle for Isla to play with, and a sweet card from her family to mine. To say she went above and beyond is an understatement. She blew us out of the water and we are just so thankful for her generosity and love.

The Day Our Baby Girl Became an Angel - Part II

We parked in a different parking garage this time. It was the same one we parked in when we came to visit downtown Portland during one of Alberto’s work trips to Vancouver, Wa in September 2011 (the tour we took then planted the seed for us eventually moving to Portland). The walk to the clinic was longer, and, I felt like people were looking at me. I felt like I had a stain on me somewhere…an “I’m about to take the life of my child” stain and people were looking at me and judging me. Or maybe it was just that I had a huge grey wind breaker jacket on with a hood over my head and sunglasses on and I looked a little suspicious? I don’t know. There were no protestors when we arrived back at the building, thank goodness again, and for the second time we took the elevator up to the 9^th floor. Same as last time, they asked who I was, I gave them my name, and they let us in. They asked us to have a seat and someone would call us up shortly. Before we were called, Michele came out and called another women into the back. I watched her as she watched her patient walk to her (follow that?), and, she never once looked at me. I felt kind of weird about it…like, although she was so great with us earlier in the day, I was just another patient. Kind of made me sad, and made me think about all the women she’s seen go through this process over the years. 

Anyway, when we were called back, we were taken to the first counseling room we’d went to earlier in the day and we were told we would meet with the doctor and she’d answer any questions we might have. At that time, I was given a couple pills to take (I didn’t have to take them if I didn’t want to – but I did)…an antibiotic, an ibuprofen, and a Vicodin. I forgot to mention this earlier, but, I was given a small dose of ibuprofen and Vicodin before the laminaria and misoprostol was inserted. Once I took the pills I was given, the doctor came in. She was a very nice younger women, and, before getting into anything she told us she was sorry for what we were going through. She then asked if we’d been given a rundown of what the procedure entailed, to which we answered yes, and then she asked if we had any questions. I was clear on what was going to happen at that point and so was Alberto, so we told her we had none. Then she said the next time we saw her would be in the OR and that we needn’t worry, it would be a fairly quick procedure. She left and then we were asked to wait in the lobby again until we were called back to begin the procedure (they wanted to give me a half an hour of time to let the meds I took kick in).

What felt like a short period later (not a half an hour for sure), we were called back by Michele and she took us to our pre-op room. She showed us in, had Alberto have a seat, and asked me to go and empty my bladder again. So, I put my stuff down in the box they’d placed for my personal effects and went to the bathroom. As I was walking down the hall back to the pre-op room, Michele stood there waiting and when I was close to her she asked if she could give me a hug. I told her yes, and she hugged me…and the tears started to flow, because, it felt extremely real at this point and I knew that I would only have my sweet daughter safe in my womb for a little while longer. She showed me in and asked me to undress again from the waist down and to wrap myself in a blanket that she provided. She then said that there was a procedure happening before mine and that Alberto and I would stay here until that procedure was done and it was time for us to go to the OR. She left and Alberto and I laid there on that very small bed, in a dimly lit holding room together, crying our eyes out. He asked me to bare my stomach so that he could kiss her one last time. I did, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and laid a sweet, gentle kiss on my belly – he broke down and began to sob intensely. I sobbed, too…for my baby, who I love so much and was not prepared to lose, and for my husband…because he is heartbroken and falling apart right before my eyes and there is nothing I can do to change it. And so we laid there together…holding each other, comforting each other. And before we knew it, the time had come.

Michele knocked on the door, we pealed ourselves off the bed in the pre-op room, and followed her to the OR. It was light in the OR. There were windows in the room and the sun outside was shining a little through the clouds and into the room. I looked up upon entering the room and saw a sort of origami arrangement hanging from the ceiling. I am not sure why it was there, but, I assume it is something for the patient to focus on if they choose to. Alberto walked in behind me and Michele directed him to a chair sitting next to the operating table. She asked him to sit in the chair with his back facing the other door in the room (this is where the doctor would enter and) and his chest facing the head of the table so he could see me and only me. She asked me to sit on the table, which was lowered so that I could get onto it, and slide my bottom down to the very end of it. The end of the table was broken down into knee supports (kind of like what you would put your legs into when you’re pushing a child out) and she asked me to lay my trunk and back down on the table and put my knees into the supports. Then Michele walked around the table and explained how the laughing gas would work. She said it would be turned on during the procedure and the mask would sit on my chest so that it’s easily accessible to me, but, I didn’t have to use it if I didn’t want to. If I wanted to use it, I would pick the mask up and cover both my nose and mouth with it and breathe in deeply. She explained that it would work instantaneously when I am breathing it in and that it would stop working fairly quickly once I am not breathing it in. She went on to say that laughing gas is used during the procedure to take the edge off and give the patient a “sunnier disposition”. I did not want to take the edge off…I wanted to be 100% present and aware of what was happening during the procedure, so, I had decided in my mind that I would not use it before the procedure had even started. Next, Michele sat down next to me, in a chair like Alberto’s just on the opposite side of my body, and she told me that the doctor would be in shortly. She said that the procedure is very quick and that once it was over, she would walk me back to the recovery room where I could stay as long as I needed.

The next thing I knew, the doctor was walking into the OR and she sat down in front of the table with my bent legs (in the knee supports) flanking her. She told me that she would verbalize every single step to me so that I was aware of what was happening at all times. Then she got started…

The first thing she did was remove the gauze that was holding the misoprostol (it actually was probably dissolved at this point) and laminaria in my cervix. It didn’t hurt, but, it was uncomfortable because it’s a dry piece of cloth coming out of a very sensitive, narrow canal. Imagine what it feels like if someone were to stick a piece of gauze down your throat and then pull it out…not painful, but, irritating. Right? Anyway, after she took the gauze out she rubbed the opening of my cervix with iodine to clean it, and then she injected my cervix with a local anesthetic to numb it. At this point, physically I felt fine. But, I felt physically and emotionally paralyzed. I wasn’t crying, or feeling sad, or upset…I wasn’t feeling anything. It just felt like I was laying there, immobile; paralyzed. Unable to move or say anything. Like things were happening all around me and I wasn’t participating in any of those things…I was just lying there, powerless. I don’t think I was looking at Alberto at this point, but, I feel like he was looking at me. Focused on me, ready to support me through this experience. He must’ve felt powerless, too. He had no idea what I was feeling or what I was thinking, likewise, I didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling either. Once my cervix was numbed, the doctor told me that she was going to insert the first of the dilators. I heard what she said, but, I wasn’t prepared for the excruciating pain that would radiate through my body with its insertion. It took me off guard and I gasped in pain and I immediately began wailing and crying. It was so incredibly painful. At that point, I needed to focus on Alberto because I was experiencing a pain I had never experienced before…and I didn’t know if I could do it. I didn’t know if I could feel additional pain with TWO MORE dilators…on top of the constant pain I was already trying to manage. Because…I have had a child. Although I did not naturally birth her, I did push for almost 2 hours with her and I know what that pain can feel like. But this was a different pain. This pain came from something prying my cervix open when it was not ready to be opened. Some foreign matter, forcing it into submission. The doctor inserted the second of the dilators and I was still not ready, because, it hurt worse than the first. I again gasped and wailed, crying out sounds that I know were so difficult for Alberto to hear. He held my hand and although crying himself, he remained focused on me…trying to be strong and get me through this procedure. By this time, I was just on overload with pain and I felt intense contracting in my lower stomach and pelvic region. I felt my butt rise off the table and up into the air and tense up…in an effort to mitigate the pain, I think. I was crying and sobbing uncontrollably as the doctor inserted the last of the dilators and I cried out loudly in horror and pain…because, I knew…I knew that this was the point where I would lose my baby. Alberto must have been on emotional overdrive watching, in horror as I went through this incredibly horrendous procedure, because he began bawling and cried out “Fuck!”. The doctor explained that she would now gently empty the contents of my uterus with a gentle suction, and, I am not sure how I heard her because I was crying and crying out sounds of intense physical and emotional distress. It was just overwhelmingly painful, and, I can still here the doctor’s voice in my head saying “we’re almost there Jennifer, you’re doing great”…and, then it was over. The procedure was over, but, my emotional distress was rising. I was still holding Alberto’s hand, but, I was shaking profusely and mumbling things (I don’t know what it was that I was saying). I was in shock, and, I couldn’t move…I couldn’t stop crying…I couldn’t stop mumbling things. I was devastated. Just shattered. My baby, my baby girl was gone, and I now know what it means when someone says “my baby was ripped from my womb”. I literally know what it feels like to physically have my child ripped from my womb.

Michele must have sensed that it was not going to work to have me go to the recovery room alone. She knew, from our reaction…from my state, that I needed to be with my husband. That my distraught husband needed to be with me. We needed to be together. So, instead of taking me to the recovery room, she said that they were going to allow us to go back into the pre-op room so that we could be together. She lead me into the room, laid me down on a pad to catch any blood (she also stuck a pad between my legs), guided Alberto into the room and told us to take as much time as we needed. Alberto laid next to me and we just sobbed together. I still could not stop shaking, was still in pain, and continued to mumble incoherently. There was a heating pad in our room, so, Alberto grabbed it and placed it on my lower belly. It helped physically, but, emotionally I was a f*cking wreck. Not long after that, there was a knock on the door and it was our nurse. She said that she had heard that we’d asked about getting foot prints of our daughter. When we asked (I don’t remember who we asked), but, whoever it was said no. I was disappointed, but, I understood. I guess our doctor took extra care during the procedure to remove my sweet baby girl intact, because, they were able to get her foot prints. The nurse sat them carefully in the box with my personal effects, we said thank you, and she closed the door behind her. Alberto got up to retrieve them, he looked at them, and he cried out and began crying hard. He asked me if I wanted to see them and I said no – I wasn’t ready. He put them down and came back to me. We laid a little longer and then I decided I needed to leave this place. I could no longer be there. I pealed myself up off the bed and checked my bleeding. It was heavy, so, I kept on the pad I had, Alberto helped me put my clothes on, and then he handed me our baby’s foot prints. There were two different attempts at it – both were precious prints. The tiniest feet I’ve ever seen…my heart broke a little more, if that’s even possible. Then, there was a knock at the door. It was Michele, she peaked in, said to someone in the hall “she’s getting ready to leave” and then came and sat down beside me. She went over the discharge paperwork (things to look for – a fever over 100 degrees, excess bleeding, my prescriptions, etc.), I signed the discharge form (saying we’d discussed everything), she helped me up, we said our goodbyes, and that was it. Alberto and I walked out an alternate exit (bypassing the waiting room – thank goodness), took the elevator to the ground floor and made our way to the street.

The walk back to the car felt so strange. I was empty. My baby was gone, my heart was broken, and I was done. It felt like I was floating, going through the motions. We’d decided that we would go straight to Kaiser to pick up my prescription, so we got in the car and headed straight there (I sent a text to my Mom asking her to pick Isla up from school since we’d be late). Not before getting slightly lost, we arrived at Kaiser. I gave the pharmacist assistant my prescriptions (for ibuprofen and vicodin), she said they’d need to call for one of them and that she’d call me back up when the prescriptions were filled. It didn’t take very long for them to call me back up. The pharmacist explained how to take the medications, we paid for them, and then we headed home.

When we got home, Isla was so excited to see us. We both hugged and kissed her hello. She got distracted from something, so, I sat some things on the counter and came across our baby girl’s foot prints. I showed them to my Mom and she was moved by them – surprised that we’d gotten them and amazed by how small they were. I walked away from my Mom, placed the foot prints carefully on our counter and just stood there staring at them. Then, I started to read some of the papers that were in the small brown paper bag I left the clinic with and I felt my Mom’s hand on my back, rubbing it gently. I began to cry. My Mom said something to me…I don’t remember what, but, I knew I needed to go to my bedroom, lie down, and cry. My Mom followed me to my room. She helped me in to our freshly laundered bed, tucked me into it, and told me to grieve. She said it was okay to grieve and to cry. She said she loved me and then she walked away. I ate a few gummi bears, but, then I just cried. I cried for so many reasons…but, mainly, because my daughter was gone. At the start of the day she was in my womb, safe and sound and now? She is gone. My womb is empty and I am left to mourn death of my daughter and grieve the loss of her.

The rest of the night is a blur to me, and, I don’t remember any specific details. I just know I took at least one dose of vicodin and that I didn’t sleep well into the next day. But, that was to be expected…for I had just faced the worse thing a parent could ever have to face.

The Day Our Baby Girl Became an Angel - Part I

Tired. From the second I woke up today I was tired. As expected, I didn’t sleep well the night before. I don’t recall what I dreamt about, if anything. But, I most certainly am not well rested and I am not ready for the day.

I remember feeling numb, like I was sleepwalking through the morning…sort of emotionless. I should have set my alarm clock for 6:45a the night before and given myself some time to take a shower and get myself ready before waking Isla and getting her ready for the day. But, I didn’t have the foresight and woke up at 7a instead. I didn’t wake Alberto when I got up because I didn’t want to awake him into the horrible day that this day would be. But, he heard me getting things together for my shower. I told him I was getting in the shower and I needed him to wake up Isla and get her dressed. I told him that I would comb her hair as soon as I was done with my shower. I guess he didn’t hear me, because he responded saying he was taking a shower too. I explained to him that he wouldn’t have time because we had to get Isla ready and we all had to be out of the house by 8a in order to drop Isla off and make it downtown on time. I think he was annoyed, and, I was too because I don’t know how we hadn’t talked about this or prepared ourselves the night before. Maybe because we rented a movie (“Dallas Buyers Club”) to preoccupy our brains, blocking them from thinking about what was waiting for us when the sun came up? Oddly enough, we got out of the house on time and dropped Isla off at school. I didn’t want to go in, so, I kissed her goodbye and Alberto took her in to school.

The car ride to the clinic downtown was so weird. I was still feeling numb at this point, and, Alberto and I talked…but about nothing. Small talk, really. Friday light, directions and such. Not a word about what we were going to have to face in just a short period of time. I just remember feeling heavy. Dreading each mile we drove, because, with each mile I got closer to the inevitable…losing my daughter.

When we made it downtown, we parked in this weird parking garage, and, as soon as the car was parked and turned off, I lost it. Tears of disbelief, of hurt, of fear…I felt overcome with emotion and overwhelmed with thoughts of calling this all off. How could I be expected to go through with this? How could this be happening? Those are the things that were running through my mind. I sat there in the seat of Alberto’s car and cried…telling him I didn’t want to do this - that I COULD NOT do this. He was supportive and told me that we didn’t have to do this, that we could leave if I wanted to. But, he also reiterated why we had chosen to do this and why we felt like it was the best decision for our family. In that moment I knew he was right, so, I got out of the car. But, that didn’t make facing the reality of what was going to take place today any easier.

I wore a huge grey wind breaker jacket…it was zipped all the way up and I put the hood up over my head. I also wore sunglasses to shield my tears from the public. As we walked towards the building, I remembered that there could be protestors there and I didn’t want them to know (or sniff out) why we were there. Thankfully, once we arrived at the building there were no protestors in sight (I don’t know what I would have done if there were protestors). We took the elevator all the way up to the 9^th floor, got off, and walked towards the clinic. When we got there, Alberto pressed the button and they asked my name, I told them, and then they buzzed us in. I walked up to the front desk and they handed me a stack of papers that I needed to fill out. I took them, grabbed a pen and clipboard, and got to work. At this time, there was only one other women in the waiting room. I’m not sure why she was there, but, she seemed to be okay and of normal spirit. Alberto and I chose to sit near the windows and while I filled out the paperwork (typical medical history stuff, family history, insurance info, etc), he sat quietly and messed around on his phone. I finished the paperwork, gave it to the women at the front desk, and sat back down in my seat. It didn’t take much time for them to call my name, and when they did, I kissed Alberto goodbye and was guided to a room marked “counseling”.

My counselor for the day (she would be with me from start to finish) was a women named Michele. She closed the door behind us and not even 5 seconds after she asked her first question…I think it was the dreaded “how are you doing?” question…I started to sob. I immediately asked for Alberto to come back, and, she jumped up and went to bring him in (he would stay with me from that moment on). As he’d done throughout this process, Alberto took the lead in this counseling session and answered most all of Michele’s questions. At this point, the details of this conversation have gone from my mind. As a sort of coping mechanism, I think. The gist of what we discussed was the reason we were there, why had we come to this decision, did we get a second opinion, etc. One significant thing that was discussed during this conversation was the gestation of our baby and how it might affect our plan for today. The doctor who was in the clinic that day only performed D&Es under local anesthetic on women who were 13.5 weeks or less (it sounded like it wasn’t just her preference, that it was a standard practice). According to the first day of my last period, I was 14 weeks exactly today. I’d already chosen to be awake during the procedure and not put asleep (for reasons I’ll mention later) and that was why I was scheduled today (A Friday) versus Wednesday and Thursday (being asleep requires a two day process). However, Michele explained that if our baby was measuring further along than 13.5 weeks, we would have to reschedule the procedure for next week and I would have to be put asleep, no matter what. I was devastated to hear this, because, this was the one thing I had control over and the one thing I could decide on my own terms. I didn’t want to be told how I was going to lose my baby…I needed to have the ultmate say in that matter. The deciding factor would have to be the ultrasound that was to come next. Michele would confirm the gestation of our baby based on her size and the decision would be made then. It was a very emotional conversation, for both Alberto and I and I felt like I was emotionally shitting all over the place…I just couldn’t stop crying. At the end of this conversation, Michele asked me if I wanted some candy; she said she had some smarties stashed if I needed something sweet. I told her no (I'd already made a stash of my own for when I got home – I somehow knew I’d need candy to get me through the first few weeks).

Next she took me to a desk where she would type my blood for the Rh factor. I knew exactly what she was doing because I’d done exactly this last term in biology 233. I not only typed my ABO blood type, but I also typed myself for the Rh factor. Having done that 2-3 months prior (and already knowing my blood type), I knew that she would find that I was Rh positive; she did. While she was working on that, I happened to look at my chart (it was open and laid on the counter) and I found a section called “special instructions”. Under this heading there were two large asterisks on either side of the words “WANTED PREGNANCY”. Written in bold, large print. Up until this point, I hadn’t thought about how the people who Michele sees aren’t always devastated and distraught like me. Some of the people she sees are relieved and happy during this process. This is something I didn’t understand before this day and something I’ll never understand all the days of my life. Either way, I was glad that they knew I wanted my baby and that this was the worst day of my life. Michele was sensitive to that, and, everyone we encountered on this day would be sensitive to it as well (thank goodness). That’s probably why they note these things in your chart, huh?

Once she typed my blood for the Rh factor, we went back to a different counseling room where we would discuss the procedure in more detail, and, I would sign the forms and waivers needed for the procedure. It was at this time where Michele showed me what looked like the suction portion of an aspirator…one you might use in a hospital to suction sputum from an open trach tube (I’d seen this before – both when my Dad was in the hospital after his accident and when my ex-fiance was in the hospital following his TBI). She used it to demonstrate the dilators that the doctor would place in my cervix to open it up and empty the contents of my uterus (this is how she explained it). I didn’t think these were actually what was used (I thought they must be much smaller than that), but, the pain that I experienced (which I’ll go into more detail a bit down the road) was excruciating. In hind sight, I am pretty sure what she showed me was to size. I read through each of the forms as I signed them…one explained what misoprostol was, one explained what laminaria was, another went over aftercare things. I went over them meticulously. Michele also went over a few of them with me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such sadness, uneasiness, and regret while signing a document.

After signing all the documents, Michele led us to an exam room. She told me to go to the restroom to make myself more comfortable and when I returned, to undress myself from the waist down. Once I returned from the bathroom, it was just Alberto and I in the room. We both cried while I undressed. Michele knocked on the door and asked if I was ready, I said yes, and she entered with the ultrasound machine. She said she would take some measurements of our baby’s head (the crown) and a crown to rump measurement to confirm the gestation. Then she said if we wanted, we could see the screen, but only if we wanted to. I looked at Alberto to see how he felt, but, I knew I wanted to see her one last time. I had anticipated it, and needed it to say goodbye to her. As I knew we would, we both agreed to look at the screen during the ultrasound. Initially, Michele didn’t let us see the screen. She was working diligently on trying to accurately measure the size of our baby girl. During this time, both my and Alberto’s hearts were breaking even more, and, we both quietly cried for our baby. Michele said (at one point) that the baby was measuring bigger than 14 weeks and my heart sank. I really did not want to have to go through this all over again next week. I didn’t think I could, emotionally. However, she continued taking measurements and came to the conclusion (in her opinion) that our baby was measuring 13w and 2d. I remember her saying “that’s good, right? This is what you wanted?” I didn’t sit right with me, and, I didn’t answer her question. When she was done doing the measurements, she turned the screen to us and both Alberto and I looked at our sweet baby girl one last time. She was active and moving around…that both made me happy and tore me to pieces. As we looked on, tears flowing down our faces, Michele asked if we wanted pictures of her. We said yes and then she responded “of course you do”, and, she promised to take photo copies of the ultrasound photos she’d printed out (for my file, I’d guess). After that, Michele explained to us that she would take the ultrasound machine away and that she would alert our nurse (I don’t remember her name) that we were ready to have the laminaria placed. She assured me that our nurse was sweet and very gentle and that once we were done with her, she would give us an appointment time to come back for the actual procedure. So I got dressed, Alberto went with Michele to pay our co-pay, and I went to the bathroom to empty my bladder before seeing our nurse. 

Once I was in the room (both Alberto and I were in such an emotionally raw place at this point) our nurse came and explained what she was going to do. First she would insert misoprostol…it is a prostaglandin that is used to start labor or dilate the cervix (in my case, dilate the cervix). Misoprostol is known to cause birth defects to a fetus, so, once this is placed it is not recommended that you decide against the procedure. A sort of point of no return. Next she would insert two laminaria sticks…these are sticks made of an algae product and they absorb fluid from the body (like a tampon) and also dilate the cervix. She’d finish with putting a piece of gauze at the opening of my cervix to keep things in place.

Before she started, she looked at me and asked “are you sure you want to do this?” I thought to myself…are you kidding me? OF COURSE I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS!!! And, when I responded, I said “no, I am not sure I want to do this”. She sat down and said something about me being sure because she didn’t want me to regret this later. Once again, I thought to myself…are you KIDDING ME?!?!?!? Of course I am going to regret this. I’LL REGRET IT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!!! Every.single.day. She said she needed me to say that this was the right decision for me today, and I did…although I had to force myself to utter the words because although it was what we’d decided and we thought that it was the right decision when we made it…I wasn’t 100% sure that it was the right decision. On this day or any other day. The business of inserting the misoprostol and the two laminaria was quick and mostly painless. I felt the insertion of the laminaria, but, it was a cramp at best. When she was done, she turned on a soft light and told me to lay in whatever position made me comfortable and when I was ready, I could get dressed and they would like to see us back at 1:15pm. She left and I cried…we cried, more, together. We talked about how we needed to try and remember that this was the most difficult decision we might ever have to make as parents. But, being faced with something like this and having to make this decision and make it with our children’s best interest at heart meant that we were being the best parents that we could be…to Isla and to Angel Baby D. We talked about never forgetting her and honoring her forever and always. When we were strong enough, I got dressed and we left the exam room. I put my sunglasses on and we walked into the waiting room where there were more people than when we were last in there (a group of like 6 people all huddling together…one of them, a girl, looked upset and sad) and made a bee-line for the door…and walked straight out of it. It was just before 11am.

We had discussed going somewhere local to pass the time between leaving the clinic and coming back in the afternoon, and we somehow decided on going to our favorite ice cream shop – Cool Moon Ice Cream. The truth is…all I really wanted to do was go home and lay in my bed. But, Alberto seemed to want to stay close to the clinic (probably his projective nature coming out; just in case anything happened with the misoprostol or laminaria), so I agreed to go to the ice cream shop. Only, when we arrived it was closed. I’d been craving sushi at the time (and still am as I write this), and I remembered that Sinju is down the street from Cool Moon. So, while Alberto took a potty in one of those public restrooms (keeping it weird, Portland) I walked down the street to see that Sinju was closed as well. I guess we should have figured since it wasn’t even noon yet. After that, we decided to just go home…so we did.

When we pulled up, I saw a single rose with baby’s breath in a jar on our front steps. I got out of the car to grab it and once I had it in my hand, it made me smile. It gave me a momentary slither of happiness, because without even looking at the card, I knew who it was from. I knew my dear friend J was thinking about us and she came to our door and left this very sweet surprise for us on our door step on a very difficult day for our family [I love her. I just love her]. When we got in, I opened the card and it was from J. Again, I smiled and my heart smiled at her very kind and touching words. I put the flower on our kitchen island (my eyes welling with tears) and decided I needed to lay down. My mom was in the process of washing our bed sheets (thank you Mom), so, when I laid down our bed was bare. Alberto laid down with me and we decided to watch tv to try to take our minds off of things. We watched one of our favorite shows, “Suits”, while eating veggie sticks and gummi bears. Watching something we enjoyed did keep us occupied for the 45 minutes that it was on, but, as soon as the show went off we were right back in the reality of things…and it was time for us to make our way back to the clinic. I hugged my Mom goodbye and we got back in the car and headed downtown.