Something this afternoon made me think of the night we went into the hospital, and I realized I couldn't remember a large part of what happened after we were told there was no heartbeat. It scares me to think we're one month into this "new normal" without Kyler, and I already am so hazy with these details. Part of that must be the brain protecting itself (reminds me of how I can't remember anything right after my toes were amputated but can remember hours later at the hospital).
I also have a much greater desire (desperation?) now to have every memory possible. In fact, it only occurred to me yesterday to ask for a copy of the delivery report. So the below is mostly for me, so I can type as fast as my brain will remember.
Exactly four weeks ago today, Shay and I had planned a "last date night" as a family of two. We planned to get up super early and go to Pancake Pantry (bailed on that one), and then to dinner and movie after I got off work (not so fun memory- this was my LAST day of working 27 of 30 days in the month of June to save up for maternity leave). We debated where to celebrate; started with all the 4-dollar sign restaurants on Yelp and quickly dwindled to J. Alexander's. The movie then turned into a Redbox situation.
Kyler's name had been Kyler since ~week 14, but every now and then Rhett or another name would jump back in the running. Shay had mentioned thinking about Rhett again that day, and I told him he was starting to stress me out, and that we wouldn't go to sleep tonight without 100% settling on a name. Ironic.
So, we spent at least three straight hours picturing what "Ky" looked like. Ky was cute, athletic, quietly confident, the kind of guy you wanna introduce your mom to. Rhett was a Vineyard Vines guy, a cute adult but too harsh of a name for a baby. Ky was a sweet baby, laid back.
This was one of those days when all babies stood out. We watched them while we threw back Jeni's ice cream. I remember this one little boy to our left with chocolate dripping and my smiling at him. So odd to think that Ky was already in heaven at this point. In fact, he was in heaven during the coworker's baby shower the night before, and probably the lunch before that when several girls were feeling over my belly. ("Oh, you won't feel him kick, he's so stubborn. Kicks all the time except when someone tries to feel him").
I remember being really irritated at Shay's driving and how hard it was to get in and out of his low sitting car. Unrelated, but I need all the details.
Flash-forward to not being comfortable during Redbox movie, becoming more aware of a lack of Ky's movement. When I moved to the bed, I sat Indian style with hands on my belly forever, talking to myself and to Kyler. I wonder if I talked to God directly, wonder what He was thinking watching me.
Shay says something concerned him when I mentioned not feeling Ky move (though he didn't even know counting kicks was a thing-- never really needed to do it!). Typically, Shay writes off my concerns as just "me being me". I told Shay I wasn't panicking, but that this was the most deeply that I had been concerned. I asked if he was coming with me to St. Thomas (duh, Stephanie). Thankfully, he didn't see himself as having an option. On the way in, we noticed how loud the car was (hub bearing about to give out-- learned that later). He played country music, which seemed weird at the time. The song was playing "everything's gonna be alright. don't go hittin' that panic button." LIARS.
We knew where to park because of the tour we had just taken. A car pulled in in front of us and parked. I thought that they would probably see me hugely pregnant and assume we were having a baby, but was inwardly embarrassed I was probably there for no reason. I walked in and told the lady we were there for "decreased fetal movement", like Dr. Martin advised. She took my cards, and called a nurse to come get me. I guess we then followed the happy, smiley nurse to the room, because I remember her saying to put on the gown and leave a urine sample. For some reason, I kind of went into work mode and was explaining to Shay what elements in the room looked like Vanderbilt's rooms [this is called activity-oriented coping. This is my MO for the next 4 weeks].
After a while, the same nurse came in and performed the Doppler. While she hooked it up, I promise I remember distinctly looking at Shay and saying "I'm kinda nervous now." She moved the wand around for a while. She kept asking me where they usually find the heartbeat. Then asked where he "usually sits." She kept asking like my answer was going to change, or like she didn't know what else she could say. I remember another desperate look toward Shay, who had a blank stare. She eventually told me not to get too worried yet, that they would just get the ultrasound machine "really quick." She brought in a young resident with her. This girl was TENSE from the moment she walked in. She scanned a while, was silent, wide-eyed, and had the audacity to LOOK IN FEAR at the happy nurse. I finally said, "Please, I'd rather you just say it."
"I can't. I just, I just don't know yet."
They brought in another older woman who they said was an expert at finding heartbeats. Part of me feels bad for them, but the other part of me is straight up mad that no one trains people for handling these moments.
The lady scanned briefly, didn't say much. She seemed pretty nonchalant. I think I remember her saying they would get someone from Maternal Fetal Medicine to come. The older lady walked up and touched my necklace, said she liked it (!!!!???). They all left. I honestly don't remember when Shay and I admitted it to each other. I wish I had looked at the ultrasound screen. I was it was presented as an option.
Then the hospital phone range. Dr. Martin.
"Stephanie, this is Dr. Martin. I'm so sorry. They couldn't hear a heartbeat."
He was putting on scrubs and heading over.
I remember telling him that I really needed his presence there.
I blanked for the next little while. Shay says he remembers at some point just holding me saying "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He says he held me and we both cried. I don't remember any tears until Kyler was born, but again, I blanked out. He says I had waves of emotion but would pull it back together. One thing I do remember- telling him I was scared this would hurt our marriage, that I'd heard that happens.
Mom says I called her and just said "Mom. He's gone." I don't remember this either.
I do remember very early on asking Shay to call parents, still not having the actual "verdict."
Megan got there before Dr. Martin. I don't remember much here either except her saying something like whatever I needed to do or feel, I could. I remember nodding my head a few times. I remember she didn't cry, and I was thankful for that.
Shay left the room to call his dad.
Dr. Martin then came and we discussed the "what next." By the extreme grace of God, no panic set in at any point. He, as my Aunt Cathy has since said, "will plow a way before you." He sure did.
And here we are, a month after Kyler came. A month after he left. I'm still scared that the worst is yet to come for me. I know the answers- trust, pray, trust some more. But those dark pits in your stomach... they scare me.
Dr. Martin sent me a message a couple of days ago asking if I had marked a passage in his Bible. Nope. He wouldn't be surprised if I had... When I read the passage, I realized I wouldn't have been surprised either. It was my "favorite verse" that I'd labeled as such in Middle School.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18.
Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.