Post by ahem27 on Aug 1, 2014 23:37:43 GMT -5
My husband and I have had financial troubles for a while now. We kept thinking that we would try to have a child when we were a little more stable. However, it got to the point where we thought that if we kept waiting for the opportune moment, it would never come. We decided to try, to take a chance and I became pregnant in October.
In December, I had a subchorionic hemotoma. I was terrified, but we rushed into the Emergency room and the baby still had a heartbeat and was still very active. The doctors showed very little concern and I foolishly allowed myself to take comfort in that.
On the evening of January 3rd, I started having severe cramps and we again went into the hospital. Again, the doctors showed little concern even when they saw how much I was bleeding. By the next morning, I had lost the baby.
This entire experience was made harder by the fact that when I told the doctor that I had lost the baby, he did not believe me. He basically told me that I did not know what I was talking about (even though I had had an ultrasound that showed that the baby was gone) and then he left to go talk to the nurses. He was gone for four hours while I struggled not to allow myself to have any false hope. I desperately wanted to be wrong, I still wish I had been wrong.
My husband was not there while to doctor was belittling me. I don't know where he went for those hours. I was left to recover in the maternity ward, surrounded by those who were getting to hold their babies, and my husband was not even there to help me through it. I think that hurt just as much as losing the baby.
The night after I was first released from the hospital, my husband got very, very drunk and made himself sick. There I was, bleeding and in pain, and I had to help my husband up off the floor and into the restroom. Since then I have had to set my own grief and pain aside while my husband had a complete mental breakdown.
A person my husband trusted cheated us and skipped town. He cleaned out my husband's business account while he was at it. My husband ended up losing the business he spent over ten years building around the same time that we lost our baby. Essentially, every emasculating thing that could have happened, did happen, and in rapid succession.
My husband is now on anti-depressants and is in therapy when he isn't fighting against showing up for his appointments. He frequently has moments where he collapses and starts talking about killing himself. The worst part is that his short-term memory is affected and the next morning he doesn't even remember the horrible things he says. For some reason, I think it would hurt me less if he just remembered.
I still hurt all the time. I miss my baby all the time. I have had to be the strong one from the very beginning and have not had a chance to deal with my own grief. Every time I try, my husband spirals and I have yet more pieces to pick up. I can't help but feel resentful at times. It is as though in my effort to help my husband through his pain, everyone has forgotten that I have my own that I am still struggling with. Then I feel guilty for being resentful in the first place.
Sometimes all I can think about, dream about, is how I want my baby back. Completely irrational, I know.
I become terribly tired of being rational at times.
In December, I had a subchorionic hemotoma. I was terrified, but we rushed into the Emergency room and the baby still had a heartbeat and was still very active. The doctors showed very little concern and I foolishly allowed myself to take comfort in that.
On the evening of January 3rd, I started having severe cramps and we again went into the hospital. Again, the doctors showed little concern even when they saw how much I was bleeding. By the next morning, I had lost the baby.
This entire experience was made harder by the fact that when I told the doctor that I had lost the baby, he did not believe me. He basically told me that I did not know what I was talking about (even though I had had an ultrasound that showed that the baby was gone) and then he left to go talk to the nurses. He was gone for four hours while I struggled not to allow myself to have any false hope. I desperately wanted to be wrong, I still wish I had been wrong.
My husband was not there while to doctor was belittling me. I don't know where he went for those hours. I was left to recover in the maternity ward, surrounded by those who were getting to hold their babies, and my husband was not even there to help me through it. I think that hurt just as much as losing the baby.
The night after I was first released from the hospital, my husband got very, very drunk and made himself sick. There I was, bleeding and in pain, and I had to help my husband up off the floor and into the restroom. Since then I have had to set my own grief and pain aside while my husband had a complete mental breakdown.
A person my husband trusted cheated us and skipped town. He cleaned out my husband's business account while he was at it. My husband ended up losing the business he spent over ten years building around the same time that we lost our baby. Essentially, every emasculating thing that could have happened, did happen, and in rapid succession.
My husband is now on anti-depressants and is in therapy when he isn't fighting against showing up for his appointments. He frequently has moments where he collapses and starts talking about killing himself. The worst part is that his short-term memory is affected and the next morning he doesn't even remember the horrible things he says. For some reason, I think it would hurt me less if he just remembered.
I still hurt all the time. I miss my baby all the time. I have had to be the strong one from the very beginning and have not had a chance to deal with my own grief. Every time I try, my husband spirals and I have yet more pieces to pick up. I can't help but feel resentful at times. It is as though in my effort to help my husband through his pain, everyone has forgotten that I have my own that I am still struggling with. Then I feel guilty for being resentful in the first place.
Sometimes all I can think about, dream about, is how I want my baby back. Completely irrational, I know.
I become terribly tired of being rational at times.