Jeg synes det er hårdt // I think it’s tough

Jeg går rundt med en grum ting lige for tiden, og nu kommer det så tæt på at jeg må komme ud med det.

Det skal ikke være en hemmelighed at da Vincents far og jeg gik fra hinanden, fjollede vi stadig rundt i næsten et år. Dumme som vi var, var det uden beskyttelse, for jeg har altid haft svært ved at blive gravid, så vi tænkte at det gik jo nok.

I september sidste år skete det så, jeg blev gravid. Som sagt er jeg abort modstander, så det ville jeg beholde selvom jeg vidste jeg skulle stå alene med det. Fra min side af, var det et ønskebarn. Fra jeg stod med testen, ønskede og elskede jeg det barn, selvom det kom som et chok for os begge.

Da jeg var 7 uger henne tog jeg til første graviditets samtale hos min læge, og alt så fint ud. Der blev bestilt blodprøver og nakkefolds scanning. Min termin blev sat til 12. maj, men fordi jeg kun kan føde ved kejsersnit, så skulle jeg jo så have født 5. maj. Jeg havde det godt, selvom jeg var meget plaget af kvalme, men det hører med og jeg så det som et godt tegn, da det jo betyder at jeg udvikler HCG.

En uge efter begynder jeg at bløde. Jeg tager selvfølgelig på hospitalet, men jeg tænker ikke så meget over det da jeg også blødte da jeg ventede Vincent.
Jeg kommer ind og ligge på briksen, og får det kolde gele på maven. Der kan jeg godt mærke helt ned i maven, at det her, det er ikke godt. Det var det heller ikke. Der var intet hjerteslag, og den havde nok været død de sidste to uger, for størrelsen svarede til 5.-6. uge.
Jeg brød grædende sammen. Jeg havde jo mistet et barn, selvom det ikke havde anlæg til at være et barn på det stadie. Jeg elskede det jo allerede.

Resten skulle jo stadig ud, for ellers kunne jeg risikere at blive rigtig syg. Så jeg fik valget mellem at stikke to piller op, eller få en udskrabning. Jeg valgte pillerne da jeg er panisk angst for narkose. Jeg tog pillerne dagen efter, og Vincents far havde heldigvis en fri weekend og sagde til sin nye kæreste at han altså blev nødt til at bruge weekenden hos mig, det var jeg super glad for. To timer efter pillerne var blevet lagt op, begyndte jeg at få voldsomme smerter og bløde. Jeg måtte rende på toilettet hvert tyvende minut og lige få blødt klumperne ud (undskyld for de klamme detaljer) og skifte bind. Resten af dagen lå jeg på sofaen under dynen og bare havde ondt, og var ked af jeg kun måtte tage en ibuprofin hver sjette time, for jeg har ikke haft så voldsomme smerter i den region før. En uge havde jeg stadig smerter, og måtte tage ud på gynækologisk afdeling og blive tjekket. De scannede mig, og kunne se at det langt fra var ude. Så jeg fik en pillekur mere, og en uge efter skulle jeg komme til en scanning igen. Det gjorde jeg så, og desværre var den også slået fejl. Så sidste udvej var altså en udskrabning. Jeg brød sammen foran lægen, og måtte forklare hende jeg var så panisk angst for fuld narkose. Hun overbeviste mig om at der intet var at være bange for, det var kun et kvarter jeg skulle sove. Jeg accepterede det, og hun indlagde mig, til jeg fik udskrabningen morgenen efter.
Jeg var meget ked af det om aftenen, og ringede til Vincents far og spurgte om han ikke ville komme og være der dagen efter, men han skulle desværre på arbejde dagen efter, men han sagde han ville ønske han kunne være der. Så det var vel altid noget.

Jeg fik sovet en smule den nat, så jeg sov lidt om morgenen inden portører kom og skulle køre mig ned til operationsgangen. Han kom ved ti tiden, og jeg blev kørt derned. Jeg fik en operationshat på, og narkoselægen kom og hilste på mig. Da han forklarede forløbet for mig, begyndte jeg igen at græde, og måtte fortælle ham hvor bange jeg er for narkose. Han beroligede mig, og sagde han lige ville kontakte sin chef og høre om jeg kunne få en sæde bedøvelse (en sprøjte i ryggen, så jeg er lam fra lænden og ned). Heldigvis sagde hans chef god for det, så der reddede han mig lige, jeg var så taknemmelig.
Jeg kom ind på operations stuen, og som sædvanlig er der sindssygt koldt derinde. Jeg fik sprøjten, lagt et venflon, fik sat ledninger på brystet, en blodtryksmåleren på armen og en dims på fingeren så de kunne måle min hjerterytme, puls og blodtryk. Narkoselægen gav mig noget smertestillende i venflonnet, så jeg blev lidt høj af det. Under hele forløbet lå jeg og snakkede med ham, og han beroligede mig da det er et meget hårdt forløb at gå igennem. Efter et kvarter var det hele overstået, og jeg blev kørt på opvågning. Efter 5 timer blev jeg udskrevet, og min mormor kom og kørte mig hjem.

De næste mange måneder tænkte jeg ikke meget over det hele, men det har vel ligget i baghovedet hele tiden. De sidste par uger har jeg tænkt meget over det. Jeg har tænkt meget på hvad det barn ville blive. Hvordan det ville være, om det ville ligne Vincent, hvordan de ville have det sammen, den opvækst jeg ville give dem begge.
Lige om to dage rammer vi d. 5. maj. Dagen hvor det barn senest ville have kommet til verden. Jeg har på nuværende tidspunkt ingen anelse om hvordan jeg vil reagere på dagen, om jeg ville kunne fungere, eller om jeg bare ligger i sengen og græder hele dagen. Min plan lige nu er at jeg skal være sammen med enten Yusef eller Liv, ligesom for at få mine tanker væk fra det. Jeg tror ikke mine tanker kommer helt væk fra det, men jeg kan i det mindste gøre et forsøg så det hele bliver lidt nemmere.

Et solstrejf i sorgen er dog at jeg har mødt en ny mand. Eller mødt og mødt, jeg har mødt ham på Tinder og da han bor små 900 km væk, skal jeg ikke møde ham før om elleve dage hvor jeg rejser derover, og det glæder jeg mig rigtig meget til. Anyway, jeg har været hundrede procent ærlig overfor ham med alt, så han kender til hele min historie og denne her situation. Han sagde at hvis der var det mindste d. 5., skal jeg bare ringe eller skrive og han er der for mig, hele døgnet. Jeg synes det er så sødt af ham, jeg kan ikke forstå at han vil gøre det for mig, når vi kun har skrevet sammen i så kort tid.

I dag kan jeg godt se det nok var for det bedste at jeg har mistet. Jeg skal ikke stå alene med to små børn. Og jeg tvivler stærkt på at Daniel ville have mig hvis vi havde udvekslet et par beskeder og jeg så havde skrevet ‘So anyway, I’m in my third trimester.’ Jeg tror ikke jeg ville have haft de sidste ni måneders oplevelse med i baggagen. Jeg havde ikke mødt alle de nye mennesker jeg har mødt de sidste ni måneder. Alting sker af en grund, og måske var grunden til det bare ikke skulle være, at livet skulle vise mig det også har nye fantastiske relationer at byde på. Det trøster jeg mig lidt med i disse uger.

Men selvom det nok var for det bedste. Selvom alting sker af en grund. Så er det stadig ubeskriveligt hårdt at ramme den mærkedag, og der kommer nok flere af dem. Men lige 5. maj, tror jeg for altid vil stå klart for mig, og vil altid minde mig om det barn jeg aldrig nåede at møde. Den jeg aldrig nåede at holde i mine arme. Den jeg aldrig nåede at elske.

I’m walking around with something that’s very hard to deal with at the moment, and now it’s getting so close that I’ll have to get it out of the system.

It’s no secret that when Vincent’s dad and I broke up, we still fooled around for almost a year after. Stupid as we were, it was without protection, because it’s hard for me to get pregnant, so we thought that there were nothing to worry about.

In september last year it happened, I got pregnant. As mentioned earlier I’m against abortion, so I wanted to keep it even tough I had to be on my own with it. From my point of view, I wanted this child. From the second I was standing with a positive test, I wanted and loved that child, even though it came as a shock for both of us.

When I was 7 weeks pregnant I went to the first doctors appointment regarding my pregnancy, and everything looked fine. Blood tests and the scan to determine if the child has Downs Syndrome or not was ordered. My due date was May 12th, but since the only way I can give birth is from a c-section, the baby would be born May 5th. I felt good, however I suffered a lot from nausea, but that’s normal, and I thought it was a good sign, since it means I’m producing HCG.

A week later I start bleeding. Of course I’m going to the hospital, but I wasn’t worried, because I also started bleeding when I was expecting Vincent.
I get in to the exam room, I get the cold gel on my stomach. Right there I could feel that something wasn’t right. I was right. There were no heartbeat, and it had probably been dead for two weeks, because the size of it was the size of a fetus in 5th or 6th week.
I broke down in tears. I had lost a child, even though it wasn’t a child yet. I already loved it.

The rest of it still needed to come out, otherwise I could risk getting very sick. So they gave me a choice. Put two pills up there, or get it removed surgically. I chose the pills, because just the thought of full anesthetics makes me panic. I took the pills the following day, and Vincent’s dad had a weekend off and he told his new girlfriend that he needed to spend the weekend with me to support me, I was so happy that he would do that for me. Two hours after I have put the pills up, I started having severe pains and started to bleed. I had to run to the bathroom every twenty minutes to bleed out the lumps (sorry about the disgusting details) and change my pads. The rest of the day I was on the couch under my duvet in massive pains, and felt sorry for myself that I could only take one ibuprofen every sixth hour, because I’ve never felt so severe pain in that region before. A week later I was still in pain, and had to visit OB/GYN for a check up. They gave me a scan, and they could tell it was far from out. So they gave me another two pills, and a week later they wanted to see me again for a new scan. I did, sadly that didn’t work either, so last resort was getting it removed surgically. I broke down in tears in front of the doctor, and had to explain to her how scared I am of anesthetics. She convinced me that I had nothing to be scared of, I only had to be under for fifteen minutes. I accepted and she admitted me for the night, so I would get the procedure done the next morning.
I was very sad in the evening, and called Vincent’s dad and asked if he wanted to come and be there for me the next day, but the next day he had to go to work, but he said I would wish he could be there. It’s something.

I only had a little sleep that night, so I slept a little in the morning before the porter would come and walk me to the surgical floor. He came around ten am, and we got down to the floor. I got a scrubs hat on, and the anesthesiologist came and greeted me. When he talked to me about the procedure I started crying again, and had to tell him how scared I was. I calmed me down and told me he would contact his supervisor and ask if I could get an epidural instead. Luckily his supervisor said go for it, so he just saved me there, I was so grateful.
I came into the OR, and as usual it’s so cold in there. I got my epidural, they put wires all over my chest, a machine to measure your blood pressure, a pulse measurer and everything else that belongs in an OR. The anesthesiologist gave me some painkillers, so I got a little high from them. During the procedure he was standing there and talking to me, calmed me down, since it’s something that’s very tough to go through. After fifteen minutes it was all over, and they drove my bed to the recovery. After five hours I was discharged and my grandma came and drove me back home.

The following many months I didn’t think about it. But I think the thought about it has been in the back of my head all the time. The last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I have been thinking a lot about what that baby would be. How it would be, if it looked like Vincent, what their relationship would be like, the upbringing I would give both of them.
In two days we’ll reach May 5th. The day where the baby would have been born. Right now, I have no idea how I’ll react on the day, if I’m gonna be able to function or if I’m just laying in bed crying all day. My plan for right now, is to spend the day with Yusef or Liv, to like get my mind from it. I don’t think I would be able to push it away completely. But at least I can try, so it might be easier.

But the sun is always behind the clouds. I’ve met someone. Or, met and met, I’ve met him on Tinder and since he lives like 900 kilometers away, I’m not meeting him before in eleven days where I’m going over there, and I’m really looking forward to it. Anyway, I’ve been a hundred percent honest with him about everything, så he knows my entire story and this situation. He told me, if there were anything the 5th I should text or call him, no matter what time it was, he was available 24/7. I think it’s so sweet of him, I don’t understand that he would do that for me when we haven’t been talking for that long.

Today, I’m able to see clearly about all this. It was probably for the best that I lost a child. I’m not supposed to be alone with a baby and a toddler. And I really doubt that Daniel would want me if we had been exchanging a few messages and I then dropped the bomb about me being in my third trimester. I don’t think I would have had the past nine months experiences. I haven’t met all the new people I’ve met the past nine months. Everything happens for a reason, and maybe the reason for it wasn’t meant to be, that life wanted to show me it also has new amazing relations for me. That is what keeps me up these weeks.

But even though it might have been for the best. Even though everything happens for a reason. It’s still so indescribably hard to reach this day. And there will come more days like this. But May 5th will always be clear for me, and it will always remind of the baby I never met. The one I never got to hold in my arms. The one I never got to love.