Been A While

Well, it's been quite some time since I've done any serious posting here.
Guess it's time to catch up.

Currently I am walking around carrying around some one elses blood. I lost everydrop of mine Thursday, 13 days ago.

I had known for some time (since I had my last garden dream) that I was pregnant.
I was absolutely convinced this time everything was a go. Had I scrutinized my dream further, I may have figured out the truth. After all, the one part that disturbed me was my surreptitious act of sewing Pot seeds in between my garden plants. Pot being a particular Weed, it like anything else is both poison (devil's weed) and medicine (the blessed herb). It all depends on your perspective, and usage I guess. I should have known in my dream, it was poison, a threat to growing plants.

On about my 40th day of pregnancy, I woke up from a dream that DID warn me of what was to come. (I'll describe it later.) I woke up, ate some dried cheerio's and downed some water before touching my feet to the floor. Had to speak to my Auntie L. Had to had to had to.
Dialed her number, surprise surprise she answered!

She was all like Oh sweetie! I just was talking about you with my friend! (She was at lunch) Can I call you back? I told her sure but first I wanted her to know how much I love her, miss her and how sorry I was I havn't been around for her over the last year or so but my depression made it impossible for me to pick up the phone. (Every time I heard her voice, I just sobbed. Who wants to talk to that? Or through that?) I told her I was on anti anxiety medication now, and it was making all the difference, and I could now hold a conversation with her without falling apart, so yes, please call me back.

Within ten minutes of hanging up, the cramping began.
I crawled into the living room, and onto my husbands lap and asked him to hold me, because I was so scared. I couldn't tell him about the dream, yet. I just cried, my face in his shoulder, and told him I was losing the baby. I could feel it.

The rest is a bit of a blur. I got off his lap and was on the floor on all fours. It seemed the best position for me to keep from winking out, later I found out it was because I had already started to bleed internally. Then I began to get naseous.

I rarely puke. I've got a cast iron tummy, so I knew I was in trouble. The truth is, I hate puking. I resist it with all my strength. Even when I know I need to throw up, and it will make me feel better, my body usually refuses to do me the favour, forcing me into hours of naseau where another person may just chuck and get it over with.

I began giving out weak orders, Gee get me a bucket, no not that one okay thanks. Stand back!
ROAAALLLLFFF! I did my best imitation of Linda Blair in the excorcist. He was actually stunned at the power of my puking, and the sounds. I have no control when I'm wretching man, it is truly a frightening, primal experience, and not only for me but anyone within earshot.

The phone began ringing. It's my auntie, I said weakly. No don't answer it.
I began to get really sweaty, cold and hot, I felt like I was leaving my body and asked Gee to call an ambulence once my aunt finished leaving her message. And returned to my projectile vomiting.

Once the ambulance attendents arrived, I just gave it all over to them, and Gee.

My husband was amazing, I could hear him answering all their questions. He knows me so well, my history, everything. Because of him I think we were able to avoid a lot of wasted time, and I felt I could concentrate on staying alive rather than trying to answer a bunch of questions between retching, feinting, and trying to get air into my lungs.

I truly felt our partnership humming along at full speed. He was amazing. If he was not busy answering questions, or looking out for my interests, he was touching base with me. Baby stay with me, are you here? are you here? look at me.. breathe babe breathe.
It was the most physically tiring thing in the world for me to respond to him, but my love for him, my desire he not worry was so strong that I answered him every time. Yes, I'm here, not going anywhere! Ooops what was that? I feinted? Oh okay, I'm back. Yes babe I'm breathing. Gonna PUKE!

Anyway, they got me to the hospital in time. I think I must have passed out a few more times, everything was kind of out of sequence. I was on a table, people were cutting off my clothes, My husband was upset over the lack of dignity, I remember saying not to worry they're proffessionals, when a nurse gently covered up my breasts with a blanket. I thanked her. That's when I noticed a tech with the biggest saddest eyes looking at me. I saw in his hand, an ultrasound paddle. Oh no, I thought. I heard him say it ruptured. I focused in real quick. Ruptured? My Tube? It was ectopic? "I'm so sorry, he said."

A nurse was handing me papers to sign, for the blood transfusion, for the removal of my fallopian tube. My last one. My last baby. That's when it hit me. I wasn't just losing this baby, my fourth baby, I was losing all chance at future babies.

I was on a gurny they were rushing me to OR, my husband was running along side me, just like on the tv shows. He was crying, I've never seen him cry. I was crying. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't just the loss of his child I was sorry for, it was his fear, his worry, it was for ever doubting his love for me.

When I woke up in recovery, he was there. When they transferred me to my room, he was there. When I woke in the morning, he was there. When I woke from my naps, he was there.

Kay gotto go. Too much for today.