Black Christmas

Well, here again I have fallen off the bandwagon of blogging. Sorry, but my job and life has been a little hectic lately.

If you scroll down the right-hand side of the page, you will notice a new counter box. Earlier this month, Joe and I discover that I was pregnant and we probably conceived on our trip to Asheville. While we were very excited, we kept our enthusiasm to a low and I refrained from blogging about it. Mostly becuase we were waiting until Christmas day to tell my dad, and I did not want it out within the family beforehand.

My doctor immediately saw me on the sixth and we got a nice ultrasound of the gestational sac witht the yolk sac inside. This was great since we had never gotten that far before. The next week (on Wednesday) I started spotting and they brought us in. We then had a "fetal pole" which measured 5 weeks and 5 days and we saw the heartbeat. Joe and I started getting very excited at this point.

Last Monday, my middle back started "killing me". oh, it was horrible. That lasted about two days then I started spotting again then had some slight blood Tuesday evening. On Wednesday morning, I called in for an update and they wanted to see me. So I hopped in my car and drove over (again). I saw the heartbeat again and the newly formed little legs. Our baby was now measuring 7 weeks. I asked about the cramping and spotting and the doctor said that 20% of pregnancies have spotting.

So I left with another great ultrasound picture. I was mentally feeling better since I had read that if you see the heartbeat within the 7 to 10 week mark, you decrease you chance of miscarriage by 60%.

Guess I fell into that 40%. I went back to work and that afternoon I was cramping something terrible. I asked my boss if I could go home and rest since I would be the only one in the office the next day. I went home early and took a bath. I felt better and was popping Tylenol according to the directions the doctor's office gave me. This was around 3:30.

Joe came inside and we talked about the visit and we reviewd our ultrasounds, etc.

*****Some might consider this TMI, so skip ahead to the next set of stars if you are fainthearted****
About 6:00 I went to the bathroom and heard "clunk, clunk". I looked down and I was now heavily bleeding and passing large clots. I immediately went upstairs to relax in another bath. I debated on whether or not to call my doctor. I had been told that unless I was having the "worst period of my life", I should not worry and come back at my next appointment in January.

AS many of my good friends would know, I have had extrememly bad periods in my life. So bad, I have been crawling on the floor begging for relief. I used to be on Anaprox which was the heavier, prescrption form of Aleve WWWAAAYYY before Aleve ever came out. So, needless to say, I was in pain but it wasn't the worst.

So, as any young lady would do during a bath - I had two choices 1. read a book or 2. talk on the phone. So I called up two of my dearest friends and was talking to them. As I was talking with my second friend and we were discussing doctor, I looked down and thought, "Hmm...that doesn't look right." I reached down between my legs and in my hand was my baby inside it's sack. Talk about trauma. I said "OMG, OMG." My friend said WHAT?" and I told her. She immediately started crying and she said she was calling our family priest immediately and asked which hospital I would be going to.
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So needless to say our Family priest and our dear friend S came over that evening. We blessed the baby and named it Mary Joseph. We had a small graveside service Saturday morning for a burial. Joe and I purchsaed a heart shaped puzzle box as a casket. It was slightly bigger than the palm of my hand. Inside we placed two heart shape cut outs from a receiving blanket we would have used. Each of us wrote our own message on our own heart. We also put a lock of hair from each of us in it along with a heart shaped picture of Joe and I together on vacation.

Our little one was buried two days before Christmas at St. Lawrence Catholic Cemetary on the Charleston penninsula. A tiny cement cross and a tiny plaque with their name is all that distinguishes ours from the rows of tiny cement crosses of stilborns and little ones that didn't live very long.

So, needless, to say, our Christmas was not a good Christmas. But however bad, it truly brought Joe and I together more and realized what good friends we have. Anyone who would be willing to come out two days before Christmas to support your friends burying their seven week gestational baby, is a true friend.