Oct 31, 2015

I just read my post, "When Life Leaves You" and I realized I never wrote about the miscarriage itself. Believe me it was the stuff of sorrow, fear, and resilience. We were given 3 choices when we met with the OBGyn. 1. Miscarry naturally, which could take weeks. 2. Take a pill to trigger the miscarriage which would be hours. 3. Have a DNC. We chose 2 because I didn't have it in me to watch the remnants of my pregnancy leave my body for weeks and having a DNC just didn't sit right.

We got the pill and went home. We decided to wait until late in the evening for me to take it, thinking that it would not kick in until early to mid morning. Well it pretty much kicked in right away. I started having cramping so I took a prescription strength Ibuprofen and I felt no more pain. Not long after I began to miscarry in earnest. I cried every time i went to the bathroom. Large amounts of blood began leaving my body for hours. I thought this was normal. The sun came up and Ryan and Alai went to pick some things up from the store. I had another urge to go to the toilet but this time when the blood rushed out I began to feel weak. Weak to the point I could not sit up. I lay down on the floor and everything went fuzzy and I knew, I knew I was bleeding to death. I dragged myself to the bedroom floor but couldn't stand and I began to cry because I didn't know how I was going to make it to the bed where my phone was. I had to call 911 but I had no idea how I would get there. Then I began thinking about Alai. I thought of him and it is what gave me the stretch to crawl, run to the bed and get the phone.

I had never called 911 before. I could barely talk and she kept asking questions. I just wanted to rest and she kept asking me questions. All I could think of was telling Ryan and I kept saying I wanted my husband, She finally asked for his number and asked another operator to call him. Eventually I could hear sirens and soon they were at our house. I could hear banging and a fireman calling out and I began to cry more. I couldn't let them in. I kept repeating this to the operator. Then I heard the window being broken and foot steps on the stairs. And then our bedroom was filled with all these men and immediately I was embarrassed. I was in a short, silk night gown with nothing on under as I left my undergarment on the floor of the bathroom. They kept me from moving easily. I lay on the bed where I fell. Someone covered me up. Then they started asking me questions and I had to find the energy to answer them.

They couldn't get the stretcher up the stairs easily so they had me sit in a chair and they carried me downstairs and put me on the stretcher. I had the presence of mind to bring my purse with all of my information in it. As I was rolled out of our back door an ambulance, fire truck and police car in the parking lot, I saw our dear friend and nanny Regina. She had heard and seen the emergency vehicles and came down from her house. I was so grateful to see her. She asked if I needed anything and I told her quickly as I was being loaded into the ambulance. They had me in a sitting up position and I began to feel faint again so the EMT guy lowered my head and lifted my feet. I felt better. He started an IV and it felt cold. It was weird riding in the back of an ambulance. I couldn't see outside. I did tell them which hospital to go to but had no sense of direction.  The EMT guy that was with me was conversational and we talked a little.

When we got to the hospital and as I was being taken out of the ambulance, I was overcome by an odd sense of sensory overload.Things felt so surreal. I was wheeled into the ER but it felt like I was underwater. I was placed in my own private room and had a wonderful nurse. She cleaned me up, gave me a gown and made sure I was warm because I felt so cold. When Ryan arrived, the relief I felt was indescribable. He came with my laptop, movies, and an overnight bag. We learned from past experience to have an overnight bag when brought to the hospital. We were in this room for hours. They were constantly replacing the IV bag. As it turned out, not only had I had lots of blood loss but was severely dehydrated. I was so dehydrated they had a hard time finding a good vein to start an IV. For the first time ever I used a bed pan multiple times because I couldn't walk to the bathroom. At some point the PA came in and did a cursory look over and let me know that the OBGyn was on her way. Soon after I thought I'd try walking to the bathroom in my room. I got there fine but started getting light headed and had to be partially carried to the bed. All this time I had not passed tons of blood but was feeling full in my abdomin. Eventually the OB arrived and she did a pelvic exam. I notice that she had the nurse bring over a trashcan before she started and she had a concerned look on her face. It was very uncomfortable and when she finished she said I was to get an emergency DNC right away. I overheard her say something about all of the blood that had come out. After she left to get the surgical room ready, I began to feel really weak again. Like I did when I was home. I felt like I was falling although I was lying down. Things started getting fuzzy and I felt so cold. I felt like I was dying and I said it. I had a new nurse and she looked at the IV as I fell further and further. At some point she raised the end of the bed and right away I felt different.

A few moments later I was being wheeled to the operating room. It was huge and Ryan was with me. I began to cry again and I told Ryan that I missed "our girl". And cried and cried. I asked him to read the comforting words of Abdu'l-Baha that my brother Ruhi sent me. I told Ryan that I loved him in case something happened. Of course he dismissed the idea of me dying and to see him smiled was a nice last memory before the anesthesiologist's concoction put me out.

When I woke up I was in the same room and Ryan was there, I had no idea that I had fallen out so I was a little disoriented. The DNC was done. I had miscarried earlier. The loss of blood was related to my blood clotting in overdrive in my uterus because a piece of the placenta was still there. The clots were so big that they were building up behind one another causing my uterus not to contract, which then produced more blood and clots. I was kept overnight due to my blood levels being down to 7. The OB doc came in the next day and explained everything to me. I was so appreciative of her thoughtfulness. She did tell me that the PA should have done a pelvic exam. Had the PA done the pelvic exam, the critical nature of the situation would have been known and the doctor would have come sooner. I was surprised that she would tell me this but I appreciated her candor.

I was discharged and Ryan and Alai came to get me. I will forever have Regina in my heart because she stayed with Alai until Ryan came home late the night before. I had no idea how bad off I was until I got home. I couldn't walk up the stairs. I couldn't sit up for extended periods of time. My Baha'i family helped with childcare, brought food, cooked food, and gave me space to heal. My mother come up and spent the day with us. I loved the phone calls I received from sisters who dropped so much love, wisdom and strength on me.

All this time I grieved for Nahara and processed the feelings of imminent death. It would not have been so bad because I would have been with her but Alai would have been left without a mother and Ryan a wife.

I feel Nahara at times. My dear sister Windi reminded me to ask Nahara for assistance. She said to me when I was voicing a longing to return to South Carolina, "Have you asked your daughter for help? I ask her for assistance often. I talk to her more often than I do you. She is very powerful."

Dearest Nahara, I will try my best to remember you as the powerful soul I felt inside of me and I look forward to joining you in the ocean of light. I love you.

Writing It Out

I think I thought when I was much younger that at some point in life your dreams, aspirations, longings for completeness are met. I find myself a frustrated 41 year old who seems to have lived all of those dreams, aspirations, and found my longing completed in my youth and young adulthood. I feel as if I am marking time now. Like my time is long past and I am spinning my wheels in a empty effort to fill the space or to feel relevant. I am now married. I am now a mother. The two things I longed for for years, the space I filled with all of my dreams, aspirations and longing, I now have and I feel incomplete. Had I spent so many years looking to the future that I didn't do what I needed for myself? I never felt that way before. I think I am feeling trapped by my decisions. I am feeling the regret of long years of nursing a broken heart and a wounded soul. I am feeling the regret of not planning for my future financially. I am feeling regret for not truly being bold and fearless when I had the chance. When there was so much less to lose. So much less to fear. I used to think I knew what my calling was. I used to think I knew what talents and abilities I was given to develop in service to others. Now, I don't know. I am in limbo.

What do I do with the time I have now? How do I use it well, with purpose, productively, with intention? Do I settle into the mundane of my life and find happiness there? Or rather bring happiness to it? Do I focus on getting my body back, educating my son, building with my husband? Will I see a glimpse of my next steps in these mundane, happy, constructive everyday works? Is this where my service is for now? Is this part of the ebb and flow that I have experienced over and over in my life?

Can I happily throw myself into these difficult tasks because honestly, they ask the most of me. They ask of my inner, deepest self and demand time that I feel I don't have. Maybe that is the problem. I am seeing time as lost to me when in actuality, I have time for things I do not want to do but need to do. It is letting go of the ego self. The ego self that keeps looking for the next big thing. The next thing that will show me and the world that I am relevant.

Once I stop seeking recognition I will find peace in the space I am currently inhabiting. I will find peace and be happy.