Fire Away

Monday: MVA procedure.

Tuesday:
Jeff told me not to get the mail. (Packages that he had ordered for the baby were delivered.)
Jeff dragged me out of the house to grab a salad at Chelo’s for dinner.
While we were eating, I received a text from the clinic confirming our ultrasound for Friday (to hear the heartbeat). GUT PUNCH!
Wednesday:
Woke up crying and Jeff handed me a sweet care package that my mom had dropped off.
Went for coffee, came home and cried.
Went to spend time with my sweet niece, Emma. Came home and cried.
Trying to talk myself into getting off the couch to go grocery shopping and make dinner.
“Get off the couch Kristy.”
“It’s only the grocery store, you can do it.”
“Jeff has been carrying so much of the load lately. Do this for him.”
“Start by putting one foot on the floor.”
After 6 hours, I managed to get in my car and drive to the store. I couldn’t get out of the car and ended up sitting in the parking lot for half an hour. I drove home, Jeff consoled me, and we ordered take out.

Thursday: Scheduled a last minute appointment with my third therapist. (Advice given, “The odds of this happening were extremely small, but it did happen and it is your reality. You just have to take the hit on the chin and keep going little sister.”)
I knew I would survive this, but it seemed impossible right now.

Friday:
Should have been the day we heard the heartbeat.
I booked a facial to try and get my mind in a better place.
While my face felt refreshed, my heart still felt broken.

Monday:
Woke up, cried in the shower.
Composed myself to say goodbye to Jeff so he wouldn’t worry about me for the day.
Cried on the drive to work.
After pulling into the parking lot, I dried my eyes, hoping that no one would notice the red puffiness as I walked up the long hallway.
As soon as I turned the corner into my classroom, I shut the door and broke down again.
At 8:30, I heard students outside my door, so I dried my eyes again and rallied because I knew I had to let them in.
Pretended like everything was fine to make it through the day.
Got back into the car and cried the entire ride home.

Thursday:
Jeff was away. Two hour delay. As I was getting ready for work, I started having stomach pain and nausea. Since these were listed as warning signs after a D&C procedure, I called the clinic. They explained that I should not be concerned unless I developed a fever. I drove to work, and throughout the day I continued to experience stomach pain, nausea, and some vomiting. As soon as the clock hit 3:10, I left school and headed home to sleep. When I woke up from my nap at 4:50, my temperature was 101. I called the clinic again, and they told me to go to the  emergency room for evaluation. Since Jeff was away, my mother drove me. For three hours we sat in the waiting room, and had a front row seat for excited fathers whose wives were about to deliver, and expectant couples who were touring the hospital. I witnessed at least 10 pregnant bellies, all while keeled over in pain wondering if this was a complication from the MVA that could lead to more reproductive challenges. My mom asked me if I wanted to go to a different area and wait, and I had to explain that there was no other waiting areas. This is my reality – we constantly have a front row seat to others’ joy that serve as reminders of our loss.

When they finally called me in the room around 8:30, the nurse asked me how far along I was. With a puzzled look, I explained that I had the procedure at 6 weeks. She thought that MVA meant motor vehicle accident. I explained the situation in detail and she apologized for her mistake. She kindly told me that she would keep us in her thoughts and prayers. My mom was brought to tears at having to experience this moment with me. For the first time, she had a glimpse at the constant reminders of infertility that I face every day, and in that moment I think she truly understood.

After two hours of blood work and physical exams, they determined that it was not an infection related to the procedure, but most likely a stomach bug. (You can imagine how awesome it must have been to have a vaginal exam while you have the aches and chills of a stomach bug?!) Sarcasm. We returned home.

Saturday:
Jeff was outside shoveling snow in the driveway, and called me outside to retrieve an Amazon package on our steps. I can’t remember what I ordered but I was opened it and…
It…….was…….

diapers?!?!?!?
How on earth did diapers get delivered to my door a week after a miscarriage? I closed the box and looked at the mailing address. It was meant for our next door neighbors. Jeff and I just laughed at the irony because at this point, that is all we could do.

This is actually our life.

This loss was by far the hardest. Maybe it was a culmination of all the losses that had come before it, and this one put me over the edge. Maybe it was the fact that we were testing positive and feeling like this was finally happening. Maybe it was because we have no answers and really no solutions.

At my lowest point, I remember draining the water from my bath and just laying in the tub sobbing naked, and praying that Jeff didn’t hear me. I was terrified that he was going to get tired of picking up the broken pieces of me, and I honestly did not know how I was going to continue on, let alone get out of the bathtub. I felt like such a burden on him, and yet somehow, someway, he always found a way to support me and love me anyway. I loved my husband on our wedding day, but as we have learned to navigate the depths of heartache, I learned to love him more. No matter how many times I pushed him away or threw a shoe at him in anger (thanks hormone meds) he never once threw my body’s shortcomings in my face. No matter how emotionally crushed I was, he never made me feel like I was wrong to feel that way. He learned new ways to help console me, and never once stopped trying to show his love for me. On my darkest days, it was his love that saved me, and I know that with all of my heart.

I also have to acknowledge some amazing ladies in my life who put together a basket of sunshine for me. It was full of yellow items and cards, and funny sayings about strength. I was completely speechless at this gesture and their kindness and friendship. They truly got me through some of my darkest days, and while I may not tell them enough, I love them fiercely.

“Well, I wish I could say
That I’ve never been here before
But you know and I know
That I’ll always come back for more
Your love might be my damnation
But I’ll cry to my grave
Fire away
Take your best shot
Show me what you got
Honey, I’m not afraid
Rear back and take aim
And fire away”

Fire Away by Chris Stapleton