At that time my biggest fear in life was miscarriage. I didn't know how anyone survived it. Then Claire died and I learned that I was strong enough to hold my tiny baby in my hands and attend her burial service. Then I figured she was my "1 in 5" - one in every five pregnancies statistically ends in miscarriage. I felt relieved that I'd "never have to go through that again." Until Francis. He taught me that nothing was certain and that all life, even if very brief, is a gift to be thankful for, and that blessings can come in very unexpected ways. I secretly hoped I was done with loss and pondered how "those women" - the ones with multiple losses - endure. I pondered this until Lolek's death and all that I went through facing my own mortality squarely in the face. Losing Lolek taught me how to surrender and quite simply changed the paradigm through which I view life, faith, prayer, and God's Will.
Of course it wasn't a piece of cake. Thanks to Lolek and my subsequent PE I immediately needed to start injections (self administered) of blood thinners. I couldn't use my beloved midwives and instead needed to use not only an OB/GYN but also a hematologist and internal medicine doctor as well. This is quite a sacrifice for a girl who does not like doctors (no offense - there are some fantastic ones!) and who thinks birth is a natural, normal event not usually requiring medical intervention. Well, unfortunately I am the exception to that rule. So it was off to the races and blood draws and early ultrasounds and doctor after doctor.
Through it all I made sure to make memories with this baby. I didn't know how long I had with him under my heart, so I made a point to consciously make memories. Bing and I did Christmas shopping together. We spent Advent together, he was with us on our family outing to "Bethlehem" and the live Nativity. I am so thankful that we made these memories because it was at one of the ultrasounds that it was determined that Baby Bing was not growing. In fact he barely made it beyond implantation. Bing was conceived and lived long enough to begin the whole process of developing what would be his gestational sac and placenta but he ceased to develop. God wanted another soul. This is called a "blighted ovum" in medical terms. My body recognized pregnancy and since the sac continued to develop I endured 10 weeks of pregnancy and all the wonderful puking, nauseated, hormonal bliss associated with it.
Since I have a a very well documented history of almost dying after a loss I was advised to go for a D & C. I was hesitant at first, wanting to make absolutely certain that a teeny baby wasn't "hiding." (In early ultrasounds it IS possible to receive a blighted Ovum diagnosis only to see a baby a week or two later. From my research this seems to happen about 40-50% of time depending on the date of the "diagnosing" ultrasound.) After confirming that there was no longer a baby, and that the sac was losing its integrity, I agreed to do a D & C. There was no baby to bury and I was hoping it might avoid some of the drama I had experienced in the past. Unfortunately that wasn't entirely the case. Drama seems to be a specialty of mine.
While waiting to hear from the OB to schedule the procedure I cracked a tooth and needed emergency root canal surgery. While in the endontist's chair, after having my mouth numbed and all the scary stuff that was to somehow fit in my mouth explained to me, I started cramping. I excused myself and went to restroom. Yes. My body was beginning its miscarriage "labor." I got myself as ready as possible and hurried back to the dentist's chair. They continued with the root canal while I silently counted how long the contraction cramps lasted and prayed I wouldn't hemorrhage in his chair. (Hemorrhaging is a specialty of mine.) As soon as he was done (it took longer than planned as there were some complications - of course) I called my OB who wasn't there. So I headed to the ER as per her earlier instructions. Once there I spoke with the OB who was filling in for her. He did not understand, nor try to understand, my "special" circumstances and sent me home. So I went to a different ER. They were fantastic and understood right away why I was there. They didn't want to have me come in after it was too late and need a transfusion (been there, done that!). The magnificent doctor was prepping me for an emergency D & C. Except it was midnight and the OB on call didn't want to come in. In fact, he (or she) refused. The ER doc valiantly tried to convince them otherwise. To no end. His hands were tied. He was so frustrated and truly was concerned for my health. "I don't want to see you back in here in an hour or two needing bags of blood." I was grateful that he understood my situation. But I had to leave. I was scared.
I managed a few hours of sleep and called my OB's office as soon as it opened. Thankfully she was back. "Go to the ER NOW." Were my instructions. I refrained from grumbling "I tried that already!" Doula Bestie Extraordinairre, who had spent the night with me in the second ER met me at my OB's hospital. It was very nice. They "got it." They understood. They knew exactly why I was there and why I should not be allowed to miscarry at home. I felt better. The ER doc dispensed with what he called "unnecessary exams" and got right to the point. "No use waiting, we need to get you on the OR schedule and get your OB over here. I'm on it!" and he literally bounced out the door. From then on they all knew I was a ticking time bomb.
The funny thing about miscarriage is that despite what doctors tell you, its childbirth. You have contractions, your body follows the same pattern it would if you were laboring to give birth to a healthy full term baby. Everyone expects tons of blood and guts but that doesn't happen until your body is actually expelling the contents of the uterus - and if your baby was far enough long, you will birth the baby first and then the rest - just like normal, healthy, childbirth. Before that you will generally lose your mucus plug, then perhaps spot. But not much more. Unfortunately its been my experience that miscarriage and second trimester loss contraction cramps are WORSE than the ones I endured giving birth to my live children.
And then I woke up.
Groggy in post-op. I blinked. I didn't really remember anything except random faces in the OR, bright lights and an oxygen mask. That was it. I noticed that my hair had been taken down and arranged nicely around me on the pillow. I was nauseated and had a massive headache, but I wasn't bleeding profusely. I was on my second bag of pitocin and I could feel it working its magic. It was over.
I learned an important lesson thanks to Bing. Surrender means that you must surrender even your fear. And that new fears need to be identified and surrendered too. Fear prevents you from accepting God's Will. I had much peace during the short time I had with Bing and that was because I was actively seeking abandonment to God's Will and total surrender. When I had to face my biggest fear, and probably the only one I had left, I was paralyzed. I was too afraid to Trust God fully. So I turned to His Mother. She got me there. But He first allowed me to experience the very thing of which I was most afraid - because I needed to learn that I must surrender even my fear and my emotional wounds to Him. It was a powerful lesson, and one I can say that I am thankful for.
The kids asked to name the baby "Bing Mary" and I couldn't argue it. Somehow it fits. He will have a place in our family just like the brothers and sister who preceded him into Eternity. I miss him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to watch him grow and learn and change and to see the person he was to become. My heart grieves for his loss, even as I can have peace knowing that God had other plans, and His plans, though mysterious, are perfect.
I miss baby Bing, as I miss all my children who have been privileged to look on the majesty of God's Face before me. I realize I am one of "those women" now - the very ones I was afraid of becoming- the ones who have endured loss after loss. And somehow I can find peace with it. Somehow, and it is only through the Grace of God, I know that I am and will continue to be OK, even if I must face more losses in the future. I know now that nothing is outside of His Will and that He works for our good, and in the future, I will heed the lessons my teeny baby taught me - to surrender fully to His loving and perfect Will - no matter what.
