Gabriel: Surgery, Praying, and Disappointment

In my last post, I told about finding out that our 3rd pregnancy was failing because they found two sacs, one with a heartbeat, in my left fallopian tube. To continue ...

After my doctor called and told me to go to the St. Lukes ER to be monitored until they could start surgery, I was terrified to call my husband or anyone else. I had a terrible fear that people would think I was choosing my life over the lives of our twin babies. I felt like people would question my faith and think I was giving up without a fight. I felt so much guilt already .... What would this feel like after it was over?

When I called my husband, I told him first and foremost that I needed him to get in the car and drive from Lafayette, where we were living, to Houston, where I would be having surgery. I told him that the pregnancy was definitely ectopic and that there were twins in my left tube. And I told him that I was being taken within a couple hours to surgery to have the babies, and possibly the tube removed. And before he could say anything, I asked him if I was making the right decision. His reply was a huge relief in light of my fears: "You don't really have a choice, do you?"

He was right. I didn't have a choice. The doctor never asked me if I wanted to have the babies removed. She said I had to have surgery immediately and that I could bleed out otherwise.

Then I called my dad and mom to tell them what was happening. My father is a pastor, so I asked him if he thought this was anything like having an abortion. He said this was not the same and that I should not feel any guilt. He also said that he would start praying and would contact others to have them pray, not only for my surgery, but for a miracle for my babies. My friend called a couple of other people for me as we drove the few blocks from one hospital to the other.

Now that I knew what was happening, the pain that I had been feeling in the left side of my belly was really starting to bother me. I had been dismissing it until now because I was so confident and at peace that this pregnancy was going to be ok. Now that it was the opposite of ok, I recognized the pain for what it was. And I embraced it because it was all that I would ever get to feel of my babies.

Once I had been prepared for surgery, I got to meet the surgeon and had a chance to ask all of my questions. Through my tears, I asked her some questions to which I already knew the answers:

1. Was there any way they could move the babies into my uterus? Her answer was what I knew it would be, there was nothing they could do to keep the babies alive once they removed them from the dangerous place they were located. Once the bloodflow was stopped, the baby with the heartbeat would pass away, and the other one wouldn't be able to survive either.
2. Was this like having an abortion in any way? Her answer was that this was in no way even remotely close to electing to have the pregnancy terminated. I did not have a choice. There was not any chance that the babies would survive even if I sacrificed my life for them.
3. Could she save the babies for me to see so I could say goodbye? (I know how morbid this sounds, but I needed some type of significant closure.) She could not, but agreed to take as good of a picture as she could without damaging my body.

I also asked her to please try to save my tube and all of my reproductive organs if at all possible. And then she told me something I was not expecting. She said that it was possible that even though it looks just like twins, it might not be. It was possible that it was a baby and some other type of anomaly, like a cyst.

I called my husband and he told me that he was on his way. He also told me that there were hundreds of people praying for a miracle, and he sounded optimistic. He prayed for me over the phone, and I could tell that he believed we would have our miracle. 

And then I went back to surgery.

The next thing I remembered was intense pain. I woke up from the surgery in excruciating pain as they were wheeling me into recovery. As they pushed my bed into place in the recovery room, the surgeon came to my bedside and told me that there was only one baby, and that the other one was just a cyst in my ovary. She also told me that she had to take the tube because there was already significant damage. 

And I cried ...and cried ....and cried....

Partially because I was in terrible pain, but mostly because I was so disappointed.

I begged for the nurse to let my husband come back, and I didn't understand why they wouldn't. I also begged for more pain medicine. Every time I came to again, I would ask for my husband again through tears. And finally he came back. He had just gotten parked and updated from my two friends who were still waiting in the waiting room at like midnight or so on a weeknight. He had such a defeated look. I could see the disappointment and exhaustion all over him. And I wasn't surprised when he left me alone at the hospital that night. It took them almost 3 hours to get me into a room.

And so, that night, May 4, 2011, Jesus held our baby Gabriel in heaven.

Pictures of Gabriel in my tube

Loss

In my last post, I told the story of our first pregnancy. To continue ...

When the doctor told us that the baby had passed away, we had to let people know. I can’t even express the horror that I experienced when it occurred to me that we had to tell people. Once we left the office, we started making phone calls.

I couldn’t call my own parents. I asked my husband to do it because I knew I would be too emotional to communicate. I listened while he told them that we ‘lost the baby,’ and I tried to tune him out.  He called his family and best friend, and I called my close friends and brother. Every time one of us had to deliver the news, it was heart wrenching.

Before I lost a child to miscarriage, I didn’t know what to do or say to others when they experienced that type of loss. Apparently, most people do not know how to react. People say things like, “Everything happens for a reason.” Or “Maybe God was saving you from the heartache of a child with some horrible disease.” Or “When you’re ready for children, God will bless you with them.” None of these make you feel better. In fact, the latter two comments are actually offensive. They basically explain away the pregnancy because something was either wrong with your baby or with you that made the pregnancy not worthy of completion. God allows teenage prostitutes with drug problems to have babies on occasion, and no one can tell me that they are more ‘ready’ for children than I was. And what reason could there possibly be for losing a baby.

For those of you who are not sure how to respond to someone who has just lost a child to pregnancy loss, please don’t feel bad if you have made the comments above. In truth, any attempt to show compassion is usually better than no response at all. Pregnancy loss is the loss of a family member, and it is terribly painful. Simply saying “I am so sorry for your loss” and offering to cook a meal or help in any way needed means more than you could know.

When we lost Angel, I was filled with questions of what could have been. I wondered whether she would be a baby in heaven. Would he have a childhood and be raised by my family in heaven or by Jesus Himself. Would I know her when I met her? What color were his eyes and his hair? And I had dreams about our Angel.

I was dealing with loss. Loss of a child. Loss of motherhood. Loss of what could have been. Loss of confidence. Loss of innocence... Loss of faith.