Due to my last blog post, I got to thinking about my baby I never got to meet.
In April of 2011, I found out I was pregnant. It was the scariest and happiest I think I've ever been. I was nowhere ready for a baby, but if he was coming, I was going to be the best Mom i possibly could. My due date was December 21st. This was going to my Christmas baby, the best kind of present there is.
On Mother's Day, I was told "Happy Mother's Day" for the first time ever. It made me so happy to think that I would get told that once every year for many years to come. We thought of names. Cadence Alexis or Kayden James.
I'll never forget the day I went to get my first ultrasound. My Doctor wasn't there, so his nurse lady did it. They rubbed my belly with this jelly and put the machine on it and then suddenly on the screen was this tiny sort of baby shaped thing. Then the nurse pointed out to me what I had missed upon first glance, that there was a tiny little heart beating. I saw it pumping hard. Everything was normal. There was a tiny little baby in my belly that I was going to be holding in 9 months.
I remember telling my Mother I was pregnant. I was terrified. I was 18 years old. I had just moved into my first apartment a couple of months earlier. They hated my boyfriend: my baby's father. I wrote a 5 or 6 page letter telling her that I didn't expect her help or support, just that I wanted her to know. I drove to the park I always went to when I was a kid and texted her that she needed to check her mailbox and turned my phone off. I walked into the middle of the river and sat on a rock. I stayed there for hours and just cried and cried. I didn't want my mother to be disappointed in me.
I didn't tell very many people. Only those that were close to me and those I couldn't avoid telling because I suddenly couldn't ride anything but the carasoul at six flags or I just suddenly stopped drinking with friends. I graduated high school, though with a year of college under my belt.
Two days after graduation, I started spotting. I was terrified. I had been under a lot of stress and the last thing I could handle was something being wrong with my baby. I had a doctors appointment a few days later for another ultrasound, but I knew I needed to see what was going on immediately. I told Charles what was happening and we drove to the Hospital. That was the first time I actually met my Doctor. I came into the hospital bawling my eyes out hating the words I thought were going to come from him that day. I got the jelly rubbed on my stomach again and magically that picture popped up again. My tiny little baby, a good bit bigger than last time I saw him. The Doctor told me "you're baby seems to be fine. His heart is still beating and I don't see anything weird going on." or something along those lines. Basically, he told me everything would be okay. He asked me if I saw my baby's heart, I said yes. I didn't see it that time, but I had faith, since the doctor said everything was fine, that I would see that beautiful heartbeat again.
That night, things got worse. I tried lying in bed, but I kept having these god awful cramps. I couldn't get comfortable. I felt like my body was turning against me. Charles was still awake. I told him that I needed to get to the emergency room immediately because something was going terribly wrong.
They took me into one of the rooms almost immediately in a wheelchair. The Doctor checked me out and took a ton of blood. My veins didn't want to cooperate. They took from both of my arms and both of my hands before they got enough blood. Shortly after, the doctor walked back in and told me that I was dilated that I was miscarrying, that there was no way to stop it. I broke down immediately. They left me alone after that. The only words I could think in my head were "My baby is Dead. My baby is Dead." Nothing else came to me. Only that my baby was dead and I would never get to meet him. Charles just held me, I never saw him shed a single tear. I know his heart was broken just as mine was, but he was always a lot better at holding things together than I was.
The days, nights, and weeks following were not pretty. I went home hours later that night and called up my mom. I told her what had happened. I was in so much pain, I could hardly walk. I mustered up the strenght to drive to my mom's for pain medicine, then back home. I cried myself to sleep every night for weeks. I slept with the blanket that my Grandma had gotten me for my baby to be. I was helpless and lost. My baby was gone, my world was changed.
I didn't step out of the house for days. The Doctor's told me I had to come back a few more times for blood tests. I couldn't go to Wal-Mart or anywhere for the matter because seeing baby clothes or car seats or even parents with they're children would cause tears to start flowing down my face.
I went in for the stupid blood tests. My baby was dead. I didn't care if I was alright or if I was going to die because my baby had. I just wanted to stay away from the world. I went because I was asked to. Every time they took blood, only once in a great while did they show compassion for the teenage girl who had lost her child. I was just another statistic for them, it seemed.
That was one of the last time's I saw Alex. She was still pregnant at the time. She was coming in for a doctor's appointment, I was leaving from being stabbed with a needle for my blood just for them to tell me that the only part of my body that still showed I had ever had a baby inside of me was dropping more each time I came to see them. I was crying, just like I did every time I went into that hospital. i saw her and called out to her. I told her what was happening, that my baby was dead and how I had nothing left. She hugged me and expressed her sorrow for me.
Three weeks after my miscarriage, Charles and I were arrested and put in jail; I, for just a night, him for 10 months.
That month nearly killed me. I hope I never have to experience that kind of sorrow, again. I hope no one I know or any of my readers out there have to experience anything like this.
As I said earlier, My Due date was December 21st. So this year, on December 21st, I will light a candle for my dear sweet baby that was stolen from me. I will never forget his memory.
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