Thursday night I lay in bed and tears just fell out of my eyes even though I didn't even feel like I was crying. I could barely move. My head was filled will confusion and anger (not at God but at my midwifery who basically didn't handle my situation in responsible manner). I seriously lay there and wondered if I was going to die because I couldn't feel an ounce of life in me. I felt dead.
The next morning I was preparing myself for yet another day of confusion and hurt. I woke up before Noah and just lay my hand on my stomach enjoying a few moments with my pregnancy (even though I knew there was no life inside of me anymore). I prayed that some how God would make this day peaceful.
As I got ready for the day, I put on my favorite flower headband. It just cheered me up.
My sweet friend Sarah came over to watch Barclay and Noah and I headed to this new doctor I had been referred to. A doctor Cuellar. A man. Someone I had never met and felt scared to talk to. We were running late and I was just panicked that things would be pushed till Monday. I walked into the office and it was so peaceful. The receptionist gently greeted me and made me feel comfortable. I then met Dr Cuellar. A kind, grandfatherly, older man with such compassion pouring out of him. He talked with Noah and I for an hour and half. Answered our questions, let us know what was going on medically (something my midwives were flaky about), he examined me and told me he thought that if I had waited it out, it would have been another week or so. He really affirmed my request for a D and C. He rubbed my back as I cried and gave me tissues to dry my tears. He made me feel like I was his only patient (not one that he fit in at the last minute). I told my mom later on, that I wanted him to deliver all my future babies.
He rescheduled patients in order that he could perform the procedure as soon as possible.
He scheduled it at a surgery center instead of the hospital (which is big, confusing, and I had been there three times that week already).
We went and I had 10 minutes to wait in the waiting room. I sat in a rocking chair. I couldn't help but shed some tears as I rocked. I would never, on earth, rock those babies in my arms. But I enjoyed those few moments of rocking.
They took me back and every nurse was so compassionate and tender to me, almost like my mother would have been. The anesthesiologist came in talk with me, and ended up holding my hand and crying with me.
They gave me some relaxant in my IV which made everything peaceful as they rolled me into the operating room. They piled warm blankets on me and then....peace.
I woke up in a recliner with Dr Cuellar talking to me. He said everything went well, that they had found a lot more tissue then they had anticipated (I don't really know what that means) and he was so glad we went ahead with the D and C to avoid infection.
I then spent 40 minutes eating peanut butter cookies and my heart was finally able to start healing. I didn't have to worry or wonder. Everything was done and I could start grieving and start living again.
As hard and awful as the situation was, God gave me a peace that truly passed all understanding that day.