Post by KC33 on Jan 8, 2017 21:59:07 GMT -5
I'd like to share my story and my struggles with the biggest loss of my life. Please don't judge, I judge myself enough everyday.
My story begins before my loss, before my pregnancy, after the birth of my first beautiful little girl. She was and still is the light of my life. My best accomplishment and the most perfect little person I could have ever imagined. I instantly became completely in love and devoted to her. I was one of those mom's who was incredibly over protective and never need or wanted a break from my perfect little beauty.
About a year after she was born relationship became rocky. I think it was just your typical daddy concerns, my life was devoted completely to him before she came around and he didn't know where he fit anymore. Instead of discussing this like rational adults, the arguing began. Going back to work a year after having my girl was tough, but daily fights with daddy made it even tougher. He began getting mad at me for everything, from things I did almost 20 years before to simple things I did that day. It was never-ending anger from him. He wanted to have our kids close together so even though most days were fights we decided to get pregnant again.
My pregnancy wasn't easy. My first one, I had morning sickness and gestational diabetes, but this one was a whole other story! Constant aches, swelling, couldn't sleep, struggled to even get out of bed. The fighting continued. He wasn't at all like he was when I was pregnant the first time. The first time he was nurturing, protective, didn't want any stress on me, and loved to feel her kick. The second time I missed it all. I can't even remember him feeling her kick once. My poor little angel didn't get the same love inside my belly as her big sister did. But I loved her. I was in constant misery but I loved her so much.
But the fighting was too much. I constantly wished something bad would happen to me so he could see what he was putting me through and stop. I prayed even. Who does that? I hate myself everyday for that. I know it's irrational but I do.
I never slept, we'd fight all night long sometimes. Inevitably I ended up with high blood pressure. A few weeks before I was due my friend brought me to the hospital. She was worried about how I was acting. We were fighting again and the stress was so much, I began to see spots. My blood pressure was high. They gave me meds to bring it down and sent me home. The meds made me feel weird, I laughed uncontrollably that night and couldn't stop. I was scared. The next day I saw my obgyn. She said my body and baby were used to the higher than normal blood pressure and it was safer to run a little higher at this point than to drop it too low, so I didn't take the meds again.
A few days later the hubby's father passed away. I loved this man so much, I took care of him for 5 years while he battled Alzheimer's. I spent every night at the nursing home with my hubby and family while we waited for him to pass. I wanted to be there for my husband and spend every minute I could with dad before he was gone.
After he passed my husband looked to his friends for support and pushed me away. The fighting resumed shortly after and continued more often than not until the day I went into labor.
My husband works graveyard on and off each week, I went into labor while he was at work. I waited until the contractions we closer but it took awhile. He came home in the morning and they were still fairly far apart so he went to bed and my mom picked up my little girl. For those of you wondering, the fights didn't happen in front of our little girl but it would be naive to say she didn't feel the sadness from me. She was only 2 but they are perceptive those little ones. My mom came in and felt her little granddaughter kicking in my belly getting ready to meet the world. I waited through the contractions, I worried at one point that she wasn't moving as much, but put those thoughts aside as nothing. When I felt it was time we left for the hospital. The pregnancy moved quickly at that point. Contractions very close and I was very dialated when I arrived. 8cm I believe. It was time. The room was a frenzy. People taking blood, getting me changed, getting my epidural ready, nurse hooking me up to the heat monitor. I could tell something was wrong. They were struggling to find it. But things kept proceeding. Doctors talking to me, nurses talking to doctors. The doctor said something to my husband. Everything was so loud and busy schedule the contractions hurt so much I didn't understand. Until my husband started to cry and told me I need to listen to the doctor. They couldn't find a heart beat.
What? This couldn't be. Keep trying keep trying. I was panicked. Get her out and save her I thought. I didn't believe it. And my husband kept telling me it wasn't my fault. That I was a good mom. That it wasn't my fault. I was so confused. no no no no. This wasnt happening. It couldn't be. I want my little girl! They brought the ultrasound machine in and found her. There was no heat beat. My little girl was gone. I'd never get to meet her. To hold her little hands. To feel her breath. She was taken from me before I could meet her.
The hardest moment of my life, but the struggles were just beginning.
Thank you to anyone who is still reading this. I need to get my story out. But it's getting late and I have another little girl to snuggle with upstairs. I will continue my story another day.
My story begins before my loss, before my pregnancy, after the birth of my first beautiful little girl. She was and still is the light of my life. My best accomplishment and the most perfect little person I could have ever imagined. I instantly became completely in love and devoted to her. I was one of those mom's who was incredibly over protective and never need or wanted a break from my perfect little beauty.
About a year after she was born relationship became rocky. I think it was just your typical daddy concerns, my life was devoted completely to him before she came around and he didn't know where he fit anymore. Instead of discussing this like rational adults, the arguing began. Going back to work a year after having my girl was tough, but daily fights with daddy made it even tougher. He began getting mad at me for everything, from things I did almost 20 years before to simple things I did that day. It was never-ending anger from him. He wanted to have our kids close together so even though most days were fights we decided to get pregnant again.
My pregnancy wasn't easy. My first one, I had morning sickness and gestational diabetes, but this one was a whole other story! Constant aches, swelling, couldn't sleep, struggled to even get out of bed. The fighting continued. He wasn't at all like he was when I was pregnant the first time. The first time he was nurturing, protective, didn't want any stress on me, and loved to feel her kick. The second time I missed it all. I can't even remember him feeling her kick once. My poor little angel didn't get the same love inside my belly as her big sister did. But I loved her. I was in constant misery but I loved her so much.
But the fighting was too much. I constantly wished something bad would happen to me so he could see what he was putting me through and stop. I prayed even. Who does that? I hate myself everyday for that. I know it's irrational but I do.
I never slept, we'd fight all night long sometimes. Inevitably I ended up with high blood pressure. A few weeks before I was due my friend brought me to the hospital. She was worried about how I was acting. We were fighting again and the stress was so much, I began to see spots. My blood pressure was high. They gave me meds to bring it down and sent me home. The meds made me feel weird, I laughed uncontrollably that night and couldn't stop. I was scared. The next day I saw my obgyn. She said my body and baby were used to the higher than normal blood pressure and it was safer to run a little higher at this point than to drop it too low, so I didn't take the meds again.
A few days later the hubby's father passed away. I loved this man so much, I took care of him for 5 years while he battled Alzheimer's. I spent every night at the nursing home with my hubby and family while we waited for him to pass. I wanted to be there for my husband and spend every minute I could with dad before he was gone.
After he passed my husband looked to his friends for support and pushed me away. The fighting resumed shortly after and continued more often than not until the day I went into labor.
My husband works graveyard on and off each week, I went into labor while he was at work. I waited until the contractions we closer but it took awhile. He came home in the morning and they were still fairly far apart so he went to bed and my mom picked up my little girl. For those of you wondering, the fights didn't happen in front of our little girl but it would be naive to say she didn't feel the sadness from me. She was only 2 but they are perceptive those little ones. My mom came in and felt her little granddaughter kicking in my belly getting ready to meet the world. I waited through the contractions, I worried at one point that she wasn't moving as much, but put those thoughts aside as nothing. When I felt it was time we left for the hospital. The pregnancy moved quickly at that point. Contractions very close and I was very dialated when I arrived. 8cm I believe. It was time. The room was a frenzy. People taking blood, getting me changed, getting my epidural ready, nurse hooking me up to the heat monitor. I could tell something was wrong. They were struggling to find it. But things kept proceeding. Doctors talking to me, nurses talking to doctors. The doctor said something to my husband. Everything was so loud and busy schedule the contractions hurt so much I didn't understand. Until my husband started to cry and told me I need to listen to the doctor. They couldn't find a heart beat.
What? This couldn't be. Keep trying keep trying. I was panicked. Get her out and save her I thought. I didn't believe it. And my husband kept telling me it wasn't my fault. That I was a good mom. That it wasn't my fault. I was so confused. no no no no. This wasnt happening. It couldn't be. I want my little girl! They brought the ultrasound machine in and found her. There was no heat beat. My little girl was gone. I'd never get to meet her. To hold her little hands. To feel her breath. She was taken from me before I could meet her.
The hardest moment of my life, but the struggles were just beginning.
Thank you to anyone who is still reading this. I need to get my story out. But it's getting late and I have another little girl to snuggle with upstairs. I will continue my story another day.