We are set to leave in the morning now.
Shortly after my husband got home from work this afternoon, I passed the placenta followed by the baby. I am not a medical professional so I don’t know what that means, but based on the state of things, it looked like it had been bouncing around for a while. It was hard to look at, but I don’t regret it, and I wouldn’t trade the knowledge of seeing that for the ignorance of never knowing for sure he was there.
Times like these, I am especially thankful for a level-headed husband. Unlike everything I was taught about men while I was growing up, he is not terrified by blood and “female issues.” He would never complain that the birthing room is “not for men” as I’ve heard many of our male (father) friends complain. He wanted to see it all, know it was real, and bury what we had.
I have to admit I was relieved when I had passed the baby. My contractions became more manageable pain-wise, and I no longer felt anxiety over when it would come. I hadn’t been taking pain medication because I kept thinking, “Just in case the baby is actually still alive…” knowing full well that was impossible as his home was being swept out from under him. Once he came, I was able to convince myself to down some ibuprofen.
And we did. Quietly, quickly, secretly. We don’t have a yard so we borrowed a nearby hillside at the park a block away. It was dusk. I felt like we were sneaking off like teenagers, but instead of making out we were burying our very little baby. We said some prayers and hurried back home before it was dark. We leave in the morning, so we couldn’t wait to do something more thoughtful and lasting with the fragile pieces of our hopes and dreams that are gone all over again.
I am glad I stayed home from work, since I would certainly not have been able to handle today at work (between the bleeding and the rolling contractions every 5 minutes towards the end) and I wouldn’t’ve known what to do when I miscarried at last there. It was a mercy to be able to be home.
Now I dread the even faker smiles I’m going to have to don the next three days, pretending like I am the happiest person alive after burying two of our children in 2014. I love Christmas, but I am not simply not happy right now.