hola, isabel

When I had my first miscarriage the only people we had told about the pregnancy were our parents.  It was hard to tell them that the baby had died, but there were only four people to tell.

We were are little more protected when I got pregnant again the following month.  The only person that knew about that pregnancy was my oldest friend, Marci.  My mom happened to call me at home, on the day I was recovering from my D&C, and I told her in one sentence that I had been pregnant and the baby had died and I had just had surgery to remove the fetus.  I’m sure I stunned my mom beyond belief.

Most people, I know in real life, still have no idea about these two miscarriages.

I can’t handle the sympathy.  I want to be strong.  For The King and I, our pregnancies are uber private.  I know most people don’t understand why we are this way, we just are.  Having these miscarries just added to our need for privacy.

No wonder I kept my pregnancy with Babboo a secret until I was almost 20 weeks along.  We got brave at 14 weeks and told our families.  But nobody else knew until I was quite far along in the pregnancy.

While it’s hard to keep that kind of a secret, I just remind myself that if something bad were to happen to the pregnancy, it’s one less person we have to tell the bad news to.  With this pregnancy I haven’t been able to keep the secret for as long as I did last time.  Mostly because my belly started to show much, much earlier.  We told our parents at about 13 weeks and slowly we told a few more friends.  I told my boss a few weeks ago.  And a few of our extended family members know by now.  But the general public still has no idea.  Nobody in our church congregation knows and no announcements have been made on Facebook or our family website.

I told tell you guys, of course.  It’s hard to keep a secret from the interweb.

Plus, when you’ve got news like that, you just have to share it with someone.  Who better then the interweb?

The King stayed in LA for work after our trip to Disneyland this weekend.  The King’s mom came into the city to watch Babboo for me.  I had my regular doctor’s appointment yesterday.  At this 16 week appointment the doctor and I were going to discuss the upcoming ultrasound to find out the gender.  I was excited for that.

Th doctor got out the doppler and started chatting with me while she lubed by belly up.  She rooted around, more then normal, looking for the heartbeat.

I remember saying “damn it”.

She told me she was going to get the ultrasound machine.

I sat, naked, on the exam table and tried not to cry.

The doctor wheeled the ultrasound machine in and faced the screen towards me.  I told her I didn’t want to look.  I turned towards the wall, in the dark, and closed my eyes.

I knew where this was going and things started going through my mind.

“I have to call The King.”

“I have to call home and tell The King’s mom I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll have to have surgery.”

“The King is in LA!”

“I have to call my work.”

“I have weight to lose.”

“How am I going to get home from the hospital?”

Just….stuff.

The doctor told me she would call The King for me.  I sat there, crying, while she made the phone call to my husband.  She told him to catch the soonest flight so he could get home for my surgery.

They sent me over to the hospital.  I walked over there, in the rain, alone.  I sat there, waiting to have another more definite ultrasound.  They left me in the waiting room more then they should have.

They moved me into a room and left me there longer then they should have.

The ultrasound doctor confirmed there was no heartbeat.

“No kidding.”

The only consultation she offered was to say, “Do you have a child already?”

Right, because the fact that we already have a kid makes this one dying easier?

I sat there, on the table, and was reminded why I don’t like to talk about this stuff with people.

I know people don’t mean any harm.  They don’t mean to hurt my feelings.  They just don’t know what to say.

And guess what, I don’t know what to say either.

My mom called last night and I told her, “the baby died”.  I don’t know how to tell people in a softer way.  I asked my mom to call my siblings and tell them about the baby and to also tell them NOT TO CALL US.

I don’t want to talk to anyone.

I’m just not comfortable with people feeling sorry for us.  We’re fine.  Like The King pointed out, 75% of our pregnancies end this way.  Unfortunately, we’re old pros at this.

Wednesday morning we’re going to the hospital to have the fetus removed.  This one is much bigger then the first two, so the surgery will take longer.  And I probably won’t be going back to work the next day.

I hate thinking of the phone calls I’ll have to eventually make.  It makes me wish I hadn’t even told my closest friends.  But we did.

I don’t know what else to say.

I’m closing comments.  I know that’s probably cruel of me to shut people out.  But, honestly, that’s what I need right now.  Thanks for being understanding.