I Want My Baby Back

On some level, I knew. Don’t get attached. This one isn’t staying for long.

I was so glad that we took the week after our wedding off. I had to submit a special request since we got married over Christmas vacation and adding days off near a vacation is frowned upon in the public school establishment. 

For your future reference, you NEED the week after your wedding off. To be able to come down from all of the emotional hype and physical exertion. It’s a necessity and I was definitely thankful for those lazy days of sleeping. But man! Was I tired!

One of those nights, the newly minted Hubs and I were watching The Big Bang Theory. As usual, the Pasadena crew is eating Chinese food and I moan to Hubs, “UUUUHHH, I really want some Chinese food!”

From some unknowing place, he says, “Damn. You’re PREGNANT!”

Now how the hell did he know that? I peed on the stick and sure enough, guess who was knocked up on her wedding day and didn’t even know it? MOI! It seemed that everything was just falling into place. I marry my chocolate James Bond AND I’m instantly pregnant with our first child! You just can’t make this stuff up. 

The pregnancy was easy. No morning sickness. Just this weird metal taste in my mouth. The only odd thing, I was very crampy. A deep grinding kind of cramp. Different than menstrual cramps. The doc said it was the embryo burying itself in the uterine lining. Ok, cool!

For some strange reason, I couldn’t wrap myself around the pregnancy. I couldn’t totally digest it and own it. When I tried to visualize this little person growing, I just couldn’t get there. My mother said it was just me needed to be in control. My best friend said it was just my anxiety. I will tell you right now - that shit is highly dismissive and hurtful. I’m no longer upset with them about this, although it did take a while for me to forgive them for not trusting me about what was happening with my own body. 

On some level, I knew. Cassandra, don’t get attached. This one isn’t staying for long.

We heard the heartbeat, it was strong. We saw the ultrasound images. And there was our baby, looking like a little Tweety Bird. Except there was a huge space in the head area. The ultrasound tech calls in a doctor. They speak “medical” to each other. The doctor says, “there is a cyst in the baby’s brain. Sometimes they resolve on their own. We’d like to follow up with you in 2 weeks”. 

Enter, Doctor Google. 

I did my internet research, and It sure seemed like these cysts tended to resolve on their own and babies ended up being ok. But damn these cramps! Daily. Multiple times throughout the day. Cramping in early pregnancy is normal they say.

We never made it to the 2 week follow up. President’s Day 2014, I’m getting a facial and the pain begins to build. Over the day and into the night, the pain grows. And then the spotting. And then… The really strange thing, is that as I was actively miscarrying, I felt a combination of anguish and relief. I told Hubs that we likely escaped giving birth to a severely disabled child. That I had the feeling this was not a healthy baby at all.

The next morning, we trek back to the ultrasound clinic. We sit in the same waiting room, this time with dread and drained hearts instead of excitement and anticipation. We go back to the same ultrasound doctor. She puts the same warmed glob of jelly on my body. We look at the same screen. But nothing is the same anymore. Tweety Bird is gone. My womb is empty. My heart is broken. Apparently, the 2 week follow up speech was really for my comfort. The doctor says to us, “That was a really bad cyst. A good portion of the brain, just wasn’t there. I didn’t expect the baby to survive.” 

WELL, THANKS BITCH!! 

Ok, Ok, I know she was doing what she thought was best and I probably would’ve driven myself crazy waiting to lose my baby. So, I take it back. Thanks Doc. 

They let us out of the clinic a back way. A special exit to keep us from having to wade through all the pregnants in the waiting room. A whole different walk of shame. The reject door. We went home and cried. We looked at the ultrasound photos. Sure enough, the gaping hole was right there, almost 50% of Tweety’s head was taken up by this “space”. Tweety was not gonna make it. And if Tweety did make it, it would have been a horrendous quality of life. We were spared. We were thankful. We were still broken. 

I am in 1 in 4. I have lost babies. I share my story all the time. I will continue to share my story. This isn’t something to be ashamed of. I’m standing in a circle holding the hands of women who have born the same pain. Unfortunately, more women will add to the circle. My hands will be here to hold them too. 

Mama loves you, Tweety.