The sad saga wasn’t over yet. I was pregnant again in August. This time, we weren’t ecstatic. We were scared. And we knew we had to take it easy, take real good care. The doctor had already advised me complete bed rest. We hired a lady for cleaning and cooking. I had severe nausea and morning sickness that lasted all day long, but at least I was glad that my external symptoms were strong. Even with all the precautions, I started bleeding out in 8 weeks. Here we were again. My husband started crying as well, we really didn’t know why it was happening, over and over again. And this time was worse. We had to go through a D&C.
While lying unconscious, I had a dream that I was in the hospital for my delivery and they were getting my baby. I opened my eyes and asked the attended to get my baby. She rushed the doctor in…and I guess I realized then that it was only a dream. I was so sad and embarrassed. The doctors came in, pacified me, said I was young and it wasn't the end of the world. But it sure seemed like it. Question out to my readers: Does anyone ever get over such incidents in life?
The day before D&C you are not expected to eat anything, which was fine with us (my husband did not eat anything either) but after coming home from surgery, I was expected to eat. I was very hungry too. But I just did not know how does a mother who had just lost her child have lunch? And in what could be worse, it was not over yet. I started bleeding and I kept bleeding and spotting for about 27 days more. And that’s when I called the doctor. I did not want to talk to her ever again. She seemed like the bearer of the bad news. And in some ways, it seemed like an apt punishment for me. The doctor sent me for an ultrasound. They said I had some remaining tissue and needed another D&C. The only thing my doctor had to tell me was that they would not charge me again as it was the same pregnancy. I really could not believe her…nor could I wait to get out and get a new GYN.
It seemed like eternity before normalcy returned to our lives. For us, our healers were our friends, we had not told anyone around (well not till a long while later) and so we pretended to be normal around them. I really think that’s what pulled us out of the depression. When it was just the two of us…we did not know what to say to each other anymore. We would just be near each other…doing our own work. Both of us had a constant need to be hugged and be with each other.
I guessed this incident changed me in more ways than I could imagine. I lost interest in working or doing anything. My career had always meant a lot to me, (it was for me my identity). And losing interest in it meant having an identity crisis as well. But nothing seems too important these days. Life goes on.
While lying unconscious, I had a dream that I was in the hospital for my delivery and they were getting my baby. I opened my eyes and asked the attended to get my baby. She rushed the doctor in…and I guess I realized then that it was only a dream. I was so sad and embarrassed. The doctors came in, pacified me, said I was young and it wasn't the end of the world. But it sure seemed like it. Question out to my readers: Does anyone ever get over such incidents in life?
The day before D&C you are not expected to eat anything, which was fine with us (my husband did not eat anything either) but after coming home from surgery, I was expected to eat. I was very hungry too. But I just did not know how does a mother who had just lost her child have lunch? And in what could be worse, it was not over yet. I started bleeding and I kept bleeding and spotting for about 27 days more. And that’s when I called the doctor. I did not want to talk to her ever again. She seemed like the bearer of the bad news. And in some ways, it seemed like an apt punishment for me. The doctor sent me for an ultrasound. They said I had some remaining tissue and needed another D&C. The only thing my doctor had to tell me was that they would not charge me again as it was the same pregnancy. I really could not believe her…nor could I wait to get out and get a new GYN.
It seemed like eternity before normalcy returned to our lives. For us, our healers were our friends, we had not told anyone around (well not till a long while later) and so we pretended to be normal around them. I really think that’s what pulled us out of the depression. When it was just the two of us…we did not know what to say to each other anymore. We would just be near each other…doing our own work. Both of us had a constant need to be hugged and be with each other.
I guessed this incident changed me in more ways than I could imagine. I lost interest in working or doing anything. My career had always meant a lot to me, (it was for me my identity). And losing interest in it meant having an identity crisis as well. But nothing seems too important these days. Life goes on.
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