Hi faithful blog readers. I do realize I have left you all in a bit of lurch recently, but if it is any consolation, there have been countless moments over the last week that I have mentally recorded so that my blog would be as accurate and detail-filled as possible. I don't know if tonight will be the completion of our recent saga - it is already 10:30pm and recently emotional energy has been a bit hard to come by, but you've got to start some time. I know that lots of you have stayed in the loop via josh and his information updates here and there, but for those of you who wonder what has been going on with us recently (and if you have an hour and a cold coke or coffee next to you), well...
We took a week of vacation on July 1st and went somewhere we've never been (always a fun thing do to on vacation, right?!) We generally have a family vacation rule - no vacations in the country we live in. The reason is a practical one: it just doesn't feel like vacation when you're still getting stared at, still getting your picture taken, still hearing asianese and using it yourself. But for whatever reason, we allowed our policy to be swayed by all the hoopla surrouding the city we planned to visit, known as the Paris of the East. (I'll let all you little internet sleuths research where that might be since you likely know my freakishly private tendencies when it comes to our details.) Anyway, our vacation was ok. It wasn't great, but it was fun in it's own way. Josh was sick for two days and it is certainly no fun to vacation by yourself with two kiddos. Anyway, we have lots of nice pictures just waiting to be uploaded and goggled at, so in due time that will come.
We arrived back to our happy home late on friday night, thanks to what seems like always-worsening airline service here in asia land. Too tired to even unpack our suitcases, we just left everything on the floor and crashed. Morning came, early as usual, for my sweet little songbirds. Ok, samantha is more a rooster, with her incessant calling out until someone will
finally come and rescue her from her pack and play solitary confinement. But, anyway, that's not the point. I got up with the girls, got them breakfast, and opened the wide living curtains to welcome us all into the morning.
Not long after that, I started feeling odd pain in my right side. I laid down on the couch while the girls happily rediscovered all their toys that had been sadly missing from thier lives during vacation week. As the minutes went on, the pain didn't go away. Not even my Pop-Tarts, which I bought in previously mentioned vacation city for $6 a box sounded good. I brushed it off in my best "tough mom" attitude as typical morning sickness, or just discomfort and started the girls ready for our fellowship time later that morning.
Within an hour or so of waking up, the pain had increased to the point wherer I was doubled over on the bed, writhing in pain. I had never before had cramping of any kind with previous pregnancies and felt sure that if pregnancy discomforts included cramping this severe, something was abnormal. My best attempts at relieving the pain were futile, almost as if the pain was taunting my efforts.
Oh you think that will help, huh? Try THIS! Changing positions, standing, sitting, laying, heat pads, cool pads, walking...nothing worked. I even mentally resurrected many of the labor techniques that had so successfully brought emma and samantha to the world. Still no help. By this point, the girls weren't allowed to come into the bedroom, for fear that they would be scared by the sight of their mom in so much agony. Finally remembering how much a hot shower helped during transitional labor with emma, I hightailed it into the shower and let the pulsating heat try to relieve some of my pain.
That helped bring some relief to what had now become hours of non-stop, no relief pain. While I sat motionless in the shower, josh scoured the web for symptoms, ideas, clues as to what might be the issue. He came to the shower and announced to me that we were going to the hospital. [I must say for clarification's sake, that "going to the hospital" in our little asia land carries with it some pretty serious implications. The fact that nine times out of ten I would never to go an asianese hospital betrays my lack of confidence in the medical system here.] Josh told me that based on his research, he thought it possibly could be a tubal pregnancy, where the egg implants incorrectly inside the fallopian tubes, instead of the uterus. Around 8-10 weeks (ahem) the baby starts to grow bigger, but the fallopian tubes obviously aren't designed to grow babies, so the result is a lot of pain and then the removal of the baby because (I think) it is potentiall life-threatining to the mother if the fallopian tubes burst.
So I very grudgingly get out of the shower, the only reprieve from the severe pain that had been shooting through my body, forced my clothes on and we headed to the mother and baby hospital where we'd do an ultrasound to confirm what would be a heartbreaking event. The hospital itself was actually pretty nice, I had to give them that. The four of us walked in, and josh greeted the receptionist quickly.
"My wife is pregnant and is in a lot of pain. We need to do an ultrasound immediately."
The receptionist mechanically replied, "Do you want to keep the baby or do you plan to abort it?"
Not such a great time for the "asianese culture we know exists" and the "asianese culture we are experiencing personally" to collide, but oh well. Josh, in more or less words, told her that we couldn't imagine not keeping a child that God had given to us, and could we please have some help.
We went upstairs to the rooms where you do these sorts of things. For me personally, things were a bit of a blur, so I didn't realize it at the time, but last night, josh described to me the waiting room as I moaned about in pain waiting for my ultrasound. Two other young couples and a single young woman also occupied the long, open corridor outside the doctors office. One young lady was collapsed, hidden, in the arms of her boyfriend while she cried. The other couple, a few benched down from them, were much more stoic as they waited for the release form from the doctor. Both had just had abortions.
Finally it was my turn. I was almost afraid to look at the grainy screen after josh had prepared me in the shower for the worst. I was afraid to look and see a motionless form on the screen, but even worse, I was afraid to look and see a beating heart but in the wrong place. I knew the outcome of that would be even more emotionally wrenching.
I told josh to look. I sat emma up on the table and told her to look at the TV, so she could watch and see the baby in mommy's tummy. I'm not sure if it was the prospect of "watching TV" or the excitement of new baby, but she was glued to screen. Of course, she couldn't make out anything, but we could. The baby was ok! The baby was growing! There was a little heart in there, beating happily away, doing all the things it was supposed to be doing. One hurdle was over, and tears spilled down my cheeks, making my percentage 100% of ultrasounds cried at. The pain was not from a misguided baby, and the baby was safe.
When the adreneline from the event finally wore off, the pain came back stronger than ever, and my irritation at being inside an inefficient asian hospital was not helping. They wanted to run all sorts of tests, do an exam, take my blood, yadee yadee yadee and I was getting light-headed, dizzy and could barely stand from the yet unexplained pain. After acquesing to a quick finger prick, I bolted out of the hospital and wanted to get back to the hot shower, the only place that served as a light oasis from what I would definetly describe as the most horrific pain ever known to me personally.
We got home and josh told me the results from the finger prick while I sat under the hot shower. My white blood cell count was extremely high, indicating the presence of some type of infection. The doctor said she thought there was something wrong with my appendix. Josh made another call to some American doctors who do some consulting on medical issues for us, and their advice was immediate: you must get to a major medical center as soon as possible. For us, that meant hong kong - the closest and most reasonable place to get western-style medical care. If it was something with my appendix, we only had 24 hours before infection would set in and negatively affect the baby.
Josh called for our friend amy to come to the house and help with the girls. He had to run all over town trying to find the fastest way to get to hong kong that day, and I of course, was no help since I was immobile in the shower. Amy came over, put the girls down for their nap, and somehow managed to open my suitcase (remember, I left it on the floor last night without bothering to unpack it or
wash all the dirty clothes that were inside it) and repack it with whatever clean clothes remained in our closets. Two hours later, we were on a flight to hong kong. This is less than one day, remember, after arriving back in our home. Emma, the keen little observer that she is, reminded us every day when we were on vacation, that the hotel was not our home. Our home was our home, and here we were, uprooting her yet again. Sigh.
Miraculously, truly miraculously, the pain ebbed for the hours we were in transit to hong kong. I had cried on my bed to amy while josh was out buying tickets that I didn't think I could physically make it to hong kong. I couldn't even stand or sit, how could I confine myself on an airline seat for three hours? Our plane landed in hong kong, and we took a taxi straight from the airport to the hospital. It was past midnight before our taxi made it through the winding hills that make Hong Kong island so beautiful.
Nurse Tina, in the Urgent care department, couldn't have been more cheerful and immediately set about helping me. After a quick rectal exam (yep, they can never be quick enough!) and a few other tests, they quickly ruled out appendicitis. They admitted me for the night, and more doctors would come to see me in the morning.
The great thing about being in the hospital is that when the pain came back and reared its taunting head at me, the nurses would come by and give me a little shot in my butt and all that pain would just go away. So that was great, except I still didn't know what was wrong with me. Morning came and brought a new round of tests, more specifically an ultrasound. The doctors were limited to ultrasound use, even though they admitted that an x-ray would be much more accurate, but you know, when you're pregnant, x-rays just aren't such a great thing to do. The ultrasound revealed that my kidney was distended and swollen, indicating some kind of infection. the likely scenario was a kidney stone that had stayed lodged in the kidney and infected the stuff around it, but because the ultrasound was so limited, they just weren't sure. They prescribed some antibiotics for me, and hoped that would help. Of course, there were more invasive and effective ways to deal with these types of problems, but during pregnancies, the least invasive treatments are the way to go.
Two more days of staying in the hospital and taking antibiotics, hoping the infection would go away, giving the blockage more room to pass and let everythign go back to normal in that funky little kidney of mine. And two days of me in the hospital meant two days of josh being mr. mom, a job that while he is very capable of, is not quite used to. He did amazing things with our girls during those days - and I am reminded again of just another reason why I am so very thankful to have him.
On day three, the docs were concerned that I still had quite a lot of pain. The urologist decided the safest and best course of action was to do a minor procedure to put in a stent in my kidney - to dilate the tube that leads from the kidney to the bladder, giving the stone and infectious material more room to pass. We were in a position of weighing options - the first option, continuing to wait, posed the riskiest problem: if the infection gets worse, it could easily spread to other parts of the body and endanger the baby. The second option involved putting in this stent. The stent option also carried along with it anesthesia, in this case it would be an epidural, since (again) that was the safest option for the baby. Go figure, I have two babies with no meds at all and I need an epidural to get rid of a kidney stone. Sigh, such is life.
After explaining to me the pros and cons - and shedding a few tears at contemplating even the rarest of scenarios - it was quickly decided to go the stent route. Surgery was the next day, and went off without a hitch. The urologist was even extra pleased, because while he was inserting the stent, his little wire that guided the stent into place actually hit the blockage. He couldn't remove it totally, but he said it "disturbed" the blockage and all sorts of dark, pus-and-blood filled infectious gunk came spilling out. Fun times being a urologist, I guess.
Besides the I'd-rater-eat-chinese-food-than-hosptial-food-factor, te day and half of recovery in the hospital went well, and I even got released early for good behavior. haha, well, sort of. I told the nurse that REALLY, I was feeling great, so just an hour early wouldn't make such a difference. And it was true. After the procedure, that awful pain in the right side was gone. There was some minor discomfort due to the stent, but no pain, and I was really thankful. Finally, I got out of the hospital and got to hug the girls and my fab husband. What a crazy week it had been! Now the fun part was that we got to stay in hong kong for a week! My appointment to take the stent out was one week away and so much fun stuff was in front of us: eating at Outback Steakhouse, Hard Rock, Krispy kreme, ben and jerry's, taking emma to ride to the boat across Victoria Harbor, going shopping and to the beach at Stanley, Toys R Us...and a whole week, too! we were so excited.
After putting the girls in bed two nights later, I decided to stay up later than my exhausted, retired Mr.Mom husband and indulge by reading a current edition of Newsweek (yes, we're suckers for news magazines!). When I did decide to go to bed, it was only about 10pm, but I couldn't sleep. A tiny hint of pain had resurfaced, and I just laid there in bed thinking about it. I had gotten used to the pain moving around a bit - the docs said it would as the kidney obstruction tried to work its way out - so I wasn't surprised or anything. I changed positions, but the pain lingered. For a few brief moments, the pain kind of excited me, because if it was the kidney obstruction passing, then that was a great thing, a 100% reassurance that I could go home with confidence that my problem was solved. So, I tried out my old and trusty method, the hot shower. I got into the shower, knowing that even though the pain wasn't too bad, it would help and maybe relax me enough to sleep.
In the shower, though, the pain changed. What was once a constant and intense pain now came at brief and steady intervals, in concentrated strength. Where the pain before was only on the right side of my abdomen, this pain was now squarely in the middle. My children and husband were sleeping in the other room, and as I sat in the shower alone with the sound of the falling water, a very dark feeling came over me. Back in my home when the pain first came on, I was scared to death because I had never experienced pain like that. But this was different. I knew what kind of pain this was. My kidney stone was not passing.
About an hour later, I woke josh up and told him how I was feeling. I asked him some questions, he hugged me, and said I needed to go to the hospital. Though our hearts begged to stay together for what was next, he of course could not go with me.
It's hard to get a taxi at one in the morning, but finally one pulled up to the intersection I was standing at. The ride to the hospital was eerily painless. The intense pain, tears and blood of the last three hours had gone, and seemed to be replaced only by silent emptiness. The driver quietly sped through the highways of what must be one of the most overwhelmingly beautiful cities in the world. Out the window, the midnight hours carried a purplish haze that outlined the mountains of the city around us. Under the Harbor tunnel. Through the winding, jutting hills. Finally arriving at the hospital.
Miscarraige is such a white picket-fence word that hides the ugly event it really is. I've had so many friends and acquaintences that have dealt with loss of this kind. But until wednesday, it was black type on a white screen. Words on a page. No emotional associations were tied to the word, save for sincere apologies offered. Maybe it sounds a bit crazy, but contractions during labor can actually be enjoyable - because they are endured with the knowledge that the pain carries a purpose. That pain is bringing a baby to your arms! That pain is making your body do the right things so that the miracle of life can be witnessed in completion. But in some cases, those contractions only bring you the gut-wrenching reminder that things are going terribly wrong; the life that was insidde of you is not surviving. And your body wants it out.
So the contractions came and went, came and went, only this time no excited anticipation of crowning, or the magic moment of delivery or the most fulfilling event of all - cradling that just born baby, still bloody and blue, sqwaking awkwardly in his new place... This time, just the frustrating feeling of helplessness...feeling this little life slip away and being powerless to stop it or do anything about it... This time, just knowing that each contraction erased whatever doubts were there, dashed whatever hope remained... There would be no silver lining to these dark clouds.
Tina, the midnight emergency nurse who so kindly welcomed me five days ago, welcomed me again. Me and my crying self, all puffy faced and stuffy nosed. She brought me tissues and asked me about my mom. She dodged my questions until the doctor came and could give me conclusive answers. The doctor came, unwilling to accept my tearful apologies from waking him at 2am, and kindly and professionally did the ultrasound I was dreading. Even though I expected the words, even though I knew they were coming, the impact of his words still knocked the breath out of me.
Your baby is not surviving.During the ultrasound, my body actually ejected the placental tissue which was, in effect, our third baby. The doctor asked me if I wanted to see, and I did. As I carefully examined the contents of the tray, tears somehow managed to escape despite my best attempts not to let them. Perhaps sensing me trying to make sense of it all, the doctor offered, "There's not actually a baby in there, it's just the placental tissue where it was growing and eventually would have been."
I agreed, it would have been hard to call that little mass of tissue I saw a baby. But it still felt like our baby. It still felt like the child that had been dreamed in the heart of God and then placed in my womb. It still felt like all the love and hope and potentional and plans that were our third child. There were no arms or toes or organs or definable anything, just a bunch of white and red that medically made no sense to me but yet still represented a life that I loved. This was the one baby we had planned. Emma and Samantha were our little heavenly surprises, but this one that I was looking at, was one we had prayed for and hoped for and tried for and expected and planned for and rejoiced over.
I wanted to look, because I knew that was the only time I'd ever see that baby. I was able to keep the ultrasound photo that was taken just days before, when heartbeats pounded steadily and blood flowed in and out freely to the little one.
I stayed in the hospital that night, and the next morning had a minor procedure to make sure that all the remaining tissue was out so nothing would get infected. I slept and cried and wondered.
I got the feeling later from my ob/gyn that from the moment I checked into the hospital with my kidney business, he placed the baby's survival chances in very low percentages. That much pain, he said - even without the added invasiveness of antibiotics, anesthetics, and surgery - causes lots of trauma to a child just a few weeks old. The baby wasn't stable enough to endure just the pain my body was dealing with, not to mention the barrage of other things coming its way. Even though so many precautions were taken for the baby, it just wasn't enough.
I am honestly one of the healthiest people I know. I never get sick, I have an insanely high pain tolerance, I have no genetic tendencies towards disease or illness, and am in fairly decent shape. I never get sick. And yet, here I stand - being flown out of the country with a freak kidney infection that takes the life of our baby. What's up with that??? Of course I wonder, what if I wouldnt' have done the surgery, what if this, what if that? But there was honestly no other way to handle the situation. It does appear that if this kidney business wouldn't have happened, the baby would still be fine. But no amount of second guessing changes the outcome, so there you have it.
I know all this carried a lot of details. I'm sorry if it was too much - I was recording it as much for myself as for you guys, so please forgive the length of the post. Just writing it all out has been theraputic; I had been putting off writing about it until I could really devote some time to it, and now it's done.
Josh and I are doing well. We talk about it when we feel like we need to talk about it, and we speak freely and openly. We talk about if we want to try again, when we want to try again. We talk about waiting, we talk about greiving, we talk about moving on. Moving on feels both unfair and critical. Unfair in the sense that a life, a child that was already a part of our family in our minds, we were just supposed to move on from? But, then, you have to move on. We have to move on. We have two precious daughters - and each day since Wednesday, I have thanked God anew for them, totally unaware how much I had taken their lives for granted.
I'm thankful too, for those who are experiencing such happy days - for becky, who any day now should be bringing a new one into the world, for erica who is braving the new territory of three, for misty who is carrying a blessed little one that would have indeed been a good friend of ours, for april who is helping bring emma and samantha another girl to play with. For these lives I can rejoice even in my own loss.
So there you have it. Please pray for us, but don't worry about us. We're doing ok and we know that the days will keep getting better. And it's ok not to comment; I wouldnt' know what to comment after a post like this, but I know that you still love us.
The way to her heart:
The way to his heart:
