SAD NEWS

FRIDAY, MARCH 10

Dear Friends and Family,

I’m writing you from my bed at the hospital. This morning we went to the 19 week ultrasound and were not able to detect the fetal heartbeat. From the measurements they took, the doctors think the baby probably passed away soon after the February 14 ultrasound. No one understands why this has happened, as the placenta seemed to be working perfectly well. In order to investigate in depth and also to minimize the risk of excessive bleeding for me, we have decided to once again go the route of inducing labour. It’s the least invasive and, since I need to be back on my anticoagulants as soon as possible, it’s the fastest.

SATURDAY, MARCH 11

Last night was a calm night, all in all. We each took an Ativan before bed and slept through the night in our hospital beds (Andrés got a cot next to my bed). Waking up was a bit rough as I guess somewhere inside our minds we thought there might still be a chance it was all a bad dream. But no such luck. Reality and sadness set in quickly. We can do nothing more than take a deep breath and, once again, put one foot in front of the other. Tears and questions will follow us for a while, but eventually acceptance will come. Right now I’m waiting to dilate and push. Not much pain yet but my uterus has hardened like a rock so shouldn’t be too long. I’ll be getting another dose of the cervical tablets in another two hours if I’m still not ready and contractions should follow shortly after. This kind of pain helps heal the spirit in some strange way – it provides some sort of closure. I guess many people opt for being put under and getting a D and C because they don’t think they could bear going through labour knowing that it won’t have a happy ending. I think I can now say from experience that recovering from a D and C is harder than recovering from labour and delivery, not just physically but also emotionally. Besides, this way the pathologists will be able to examine the intact fetus and (hopefully) find a cause for this new loss. Even if we decide to not attempt another pregnancy, this information will still help us attain some closure and be able to think about the future with a clearer head. Falling asleep… will continue later.

9 PM

I delivered 3 hours ago. Physically, it wasn’t as rough as I remembered it being the last time, over three years ago. The baby came out intact, inside her sac, so tiny and with so many signs of trauma. The pathologist will be by to see her and may be able to give us some info just by taking a look at her. At first, I felt truly detached from her but as soon as I held her I felt she belonged to me. The pain, sadness, and anger came gushing out, mixed with love and tenderness. Andrés and I fell asleep with her on our laps and when we woke up I really had a hard time letting her go. I felt I couldn’t let her go without naming her. So we named her Isabelle, because it’s a regal name and her head was shaped like a crown. The nurse explained it to me like this: before you can say goodbye, you have to be able to say hello.

The OB is convinced that some of the placenta didn’t come out so I’m on oxytocin, waiting for the uterus to push it out. This way we can avoid having to put me under for a D and C, after everything we’ve been through. Unfortunately, this means no food or drink and I am so thirsty and hungry it’s like torture. Then I still have to wait 6 hours until I can get my anticoagulant. I’m just going to close my eyes for a few seconds and will continue later …

SUNDAY, MARCH 12

Last night, to avoid putting me under, the doctor had to explore my uterus manually. I can’t tell you how much this hurts, it felt like I was being ripped in half. Even with the fentanyl (like morphine), the pain was too much to bear and I couldn’t stop crying for a long time. They say we store all our emotions in our pelvis.

After all that, the doctor couldn’t find anything and so they gave me my anticoagulant and two hours later the nurse brought me toast and a hot cup of tea. I was able to fall asleep but the fentanyl was so strong it either made me fall asleep in the middle of a conversation or wake up and not be able to fall asleep again for a while. Eventually it made me really nauseous and sick so we stopped it. I was concerned with bleeding but everything went back to normal quite quickly.

Andrés brought my things so I could shower and the nurse gave me another dose of the anticoagulant this morning. They disconnected me from the serum and locked my line, just in case. They’ll be discharging me tomorrow so I can see the hematologist and the pathologist.

MONDAY, MARCH 13

Coming home was a bit harsh. The hospital is so protected, so scientific; home is an emotional environment, where you walk the same hallways and hang out in the same spots where you dreamed and speculated for 4 and a half months. But, such is reality, and it’s a blessing to be able to speak about our emotions and fears openly. There’ll be a lot of this in the coming months.

Before we left the hospital, all my doctors stopped by to see me. First the pathologist, who had seen the baby and was optimistic about being able to extract the chromosomatic information he’d need. He said that it was hard to tell just by looking at her because she had passed away such a long time ago her facial features weren’t clear enough to know. He did promise to give priority to our case and that he’d try to get the final report out in one month. This is way better than waiting 3 to 6 months, which is what it usually takes… He gave us a big paternal hug and left the room shaking his head, in the same disbelief as us. Then the two high risk OBs who had seen me during my stay came by and stayed a while to chat and ask questions, make sure I was ok. We ended up chatting about other stuff and as it turned out, one of the OBs was from Montreal and knew some of the same people Andrés did. The hematologist couldn’t make it in but we chatted on the phone for a while and will be chatting quite a bit in the coming weeks to switch me back to coumadin. We were almost ready to leave when Dr. Kingdom, my OB and perinatologist, stopped in. We weren’t expecting him to come but it was great to see him. He’s such a great doctor and has the ability to really set your mind at ease. Like the pathologist, he said our case was at the top of his list of priorities and that he intended to get to the bottom of why this had happened. He is also a researcher with a special interest in placental dysfunction so he has a vested interest in our case. He set up an appointment to come see him on March 31, to get me examined and make sure everything has gone back to its original place. Maybe by then they’ll have more info on the placenta or the baby, who knows… Now I’m supposed to make an appointment to see the pathologist that same day.

TUESDAY, MARCH 14

Just a few lines to tell you how much we appreciate your support and love. We are blessed with a great family and with friends who are like family. In times like these, it’s so important to feel supported and you have all made us feel like we are not alone. Thank you.

We will keep you up to date on any developments.

A huge hug,

Patty and Andrés