Gravida 2, Para 0 - Nulliparous

Know what that means?  I'm 0 for 2.  I've been pregnant before - never given birth.  That's what nulliparous means.  But the thing is, what happens next?  Third time's a charm or three strikes and you're out?

I hate that this dead baby makes me think about the other dead baby.  I have a fucking family in Heaven.  And nothing down here.  I would never do anything to myself, I really wouldn't, but I understand how women in this situation do.  How it's not so much that you want to kill yourself, but that you want to be with your children that badly.  How you would gladly do the unthinkable if it meant you could be with your babies.  

I knew this one was a girl, just like I knew the first one would have been a boy.  My sweet little Julia Marie.  We'd already named her and we had no boy names.  Didn't need them - it was going to be a beautiful little girl with caramel skin and honey-colored hair.  She would have been so funny and opinionated and charming and willful and stubborn.  And so very loved by her daddy.

With the first one I didn't even think to ask if it was alive.  They don't care about that kind of thing in an abortion clinic and they assume you don't either.  I'm sure it was though.  

It was terrible - he was terrible.  It was an abusive relationship and for 3 years it was sometimes good, most times torture.  For 11 weeks and 3 days I burned in Hell.  He would come to my house, 2 in the morning, yelling, calling me names, coming to my job, waiting in the parking lot, to torture me.  I was so weak, I thought things would get better, that all I had to do was hold out until I could put his son in his arms and he would love me and love us and it would be okay.  But it never is.  I saw the hate in his eyes and I knew it would never get better, that it would only get worse and that my child would suffer, no doubt.  I couldn't do that - he could torture me, he could ridicule and belittle me and hate me but I couldn't do that to my child.  So I didn't.  

And for those who would judge - save it.  Nothing anyone can say would or could be worse than what I've lived and what I've already said and done to myself ten times over.  Maybe I should have gambled, stuck it out, prayed things would get better.  Maybe I was weak, maybe I was strong, but I was unwilling to gamble my child's life with a man like that.  And I got away.  I spent the next two years in therapy, beating myself up and then healing.

And two years after that I met a good man, one who was unwavering in his commitment to me, one who wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and I was proud that my old demons were gone, that I didn't make him pay for the sins of my past.  I wanted to have his baby.  It wasn't an accident and he wanted it and we were happy.

Then it was gone - another dead baby and all the memories of the first came rushing back and I was angry.  It was as though I was back at the starting line, like I had done no work.  I was weak again and I hated it.  I felt myself slipping back, falling, clawing at air, falling all over again.  Drew reminded me that it was different, I was different, he was different and I could barely hear him through my pain.

I started to fall when they told me the baby was still inside me.  Because I knew what they would have to do to get it out.  It's the same procedure and I didn't want to go through that again.  I didn't know that it would be different.  

I remember the pulling, the mask they put over my face.  It felt like I was suffocating and I fought it.  They held me down.  I heard the vaccuum and they finally put me to sleep.  I wasn't supposed to be asleep.  They told me that I would be aware.  Who the fuck needs to be aware for something like that?  And I thought it would be the same thing.  And I wanted to die.  Because you never forget.  Maraschino cherries make me gag because that's what the gas smelled like.  You never ever forget. 


I must have asked my doctor and anesthesiologist a hundred times if I would be all the way asleep for it.  Yes.  ALL the way asleep?  Yes, I promise.  You won't touch me or do anything until I'm ALL the way asleep.  Yes.  I want to be all the way asleep, don't do anything until I'm asleep.

Except that they give you AN IV TO PUT YOU TO SLEEP!!!  Yes, normal people know this but I was not normal.  

My doctor and the anesthesiologist came into the prep room to start the IV.  I started to panic and Drew held my other hand.  I tried to tell myself that it would be different.

No fucking shit it's going to be different, they are going to put a NEEDLE INTO YOUR HAND AND LEAVE IT THERE.  That is NOT okay.  Don't let him do it.  Rip it out.
I can't, that will hurt worse.
Obviously you didn't hear me, they are going to LEAVE A NEEDLE IN YOUR HAND.
I know, don't buck around like a crazy, try not to be crazy because they won't let you go home.
Fuck you, they want to leave a NEEDLE in your hand.  
I know, fuck, I know.  Now you're making ME crazy.  Stop.

Geez, they would NOT have let me go home if they could have heard what was going on in my head.  All they saw was me go stiff and arch my back when he put the needle in.  Numbing cream my ass.  I felt everything.  Somewhere I felt the doctor rub my feet and say over and over, "It's in, it's done, it's in."

No shit it's in, that's the problem!  There is a FUCKING NEEDLE in my FUCKING HAND!  Get it out!

I wanted to start slapping my forehead just like a crazy person but I knew that would scare the shit out of everyone and I wouldn't get to go home, so I squeezed Drew's hand and held my breath.  I started crying and stiffening up and thinking of the clinic and anticipating the pulling did I hear a vaccuum? Fuck.  

I'm sure all of this was about twenty seconds but if felt like hours.  It felt like they all were just watching me go crazy, taking their sweet time to see if I would start pulling my hair out and drooling.  But soon enough, my face got fuzzy, I couldn't focus on Drew's face, I let go of his hand.


A nurse woke me up and told me it was done.  I didn't remember anything.  I even tried, but there was nothing, thank God.  Nothing, no smells, no cramps, nothing.  Thank God.  I was just very weak, probably still snowed.  They wouldn't let me go home till I peed, so I did but I couldn't stand up.  I really tried but my legs didn't work - like, they really wouldn't listen.  Drew and the nurse had to lift me off the toilet.  Thank God we're married.

I started to cramp then and they gave me a pain pill to help me sleep.  They said they could tell I didn't take pills often because the smallest amount of anesthetic put me under like instantly.  The pain pill was no different.  I don't remember going home, getting back in bed or for how long I slept.  I just knew that when I woke up Kathleen was there.  And that was nice for me.

It was different and the dead baby was gone.  MY baby, my Julia Marie, left me at nine weeks with her caramel skin and honey-colored hair.  The shell was gone now too and I was empty.