On the morning of the 6th, I woke up dehydrated and hoping that it was all a bad dream. It wasn’t. The baby, my baby, my Cora, was gone. After a tasteless breakfast, because I knew they wouldn’t let me eat while I was being induced, we left for Dr. W’s office and the hospital. Without going into too much detail, the testing was hard. It was done in the same room where we’d found out that Cora wasn’t with us anymore, and took a couple of tries for the doctor to get enough of a sample to work for the testing that needed to be done. Physically, it hurt, but emotionally, it hurt worse. The point of the procedure was to obtain a sample of amniotic fluid, and it was guided by ultrasound. I hoped beyond hope that the Lord had seen fit to start her heart again, and hoped that when they looked at her little body, her heart would be beating again and she would be moving. That didn’t happen, and we proceeded with the test as planned, with Husbandman holding my hand and our staff talking us through what was happening.
After the test, we were sent to labor and delivery to get checked in for induction. As we waited for our room to be prepared, I intentionally made eye-contact with no one, and kept my big purse in front of my belly. I didn’t want to talk to anyone that was waiting there; fearing that they would ask me why I was there and when my baby was coming. I neither wanted to darken their happy visit nor give them fear for their own child. I also didn’t possess the strength to talk about what was waiting for me. I knew that God was giving me enough strength to sit there, and that when the time came when I would have to speak about my baby’s death, that He would give me that strength too.
After a while, we were taken back to our room, and I was introduced to my nurse, told to change into the butt-showing hospital gown, and stationed in the labor bed. Before the doctors came in, our pastor and a friend came to see us. They stayed and talked for a while, and encouraged us as we prepared for the long wait ahead. They got Husbandman Chick-fil-A for lunch (I wasn’t allowed to eat), and did everything they could to let us know that our church and our friends were praying for us as we walked this hard road.
A resident came in and explained the process of induction to me, checked me, and administered the first dose of medicine. My mom arrived, and we got set up watching HGTV and playing cards. I’m so thankful for Mom and Husbandman being with me at the hospital. Not only did they cry with me and do everything that they could to support me physically and in my sadness, but they laughed with me and reminded me with their laughter that the paralyzing heartbreak that I felt was only for me. My baby was with the Lord.
Throughout the month of October, I’m writing a series titled “Hopeful Grief” with a fabulous group of writers, doing the Write31Days challenge. To catch up, or see new posts, click here. Interested in last year’s Write31Days posts? Click here.
You can also sign up to receive notifications when I post something new, using the link to the right. If you’d like, you can sign up for extras too, such as exclusive newsletters and personal updates, by using the “Click Here” button to the right. Want even more? Connect with me on social media.