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.