More Than You Can Handle?

I went in for my doctor's appointment.  He had always been chill and a light mover, so I thought maybe I was overthinking.  Probably nothing to worry about.  What were the odds?  As my sweet nurse listened for the heartbeat, I watched as a concerned look came over her face.  She shook my stomach and tried again.  And again.  And again.  She walked out quietly.  I looked at Brad with a glance that said everything while saying no words at all.  

My doctor came in with the sonogram machine. I'd never seen her look so serious.  I studied her face, looking for hope.  I saw none.  I don't think I even looked at the machine.  I just stared at her face, willing it to release the tension, to smile, to exhale the breath she had been holding since she had been in the room; it never happened.  She kept looking, kept searching, but her face never lightened.  Finally, as she kept her face on the screen, desperate for good news, she said quietly, "It's not good."

My heart sank.  I just stared at her in disbelief.  I glared at her, like I was staring down an enemy, daring them to come at me.  I don't remember anyone else in the room.  I just remember her.  I wanted her to take the words back.  I knew what she was saying but I wasn't processing.  Why wasn't I crying?  What was wrong with me?  At that moment, I think I was mostly angry.  

I think I said something like, "So, now what?"   She told me that she would have to give me medicine to start labor.  It would take a day or two and once it started, I'd come back to the hospital to deliver my baby boy.

That's when it hit me.  I was going to have to deliver this baby?  Are you kidding me?  

I asked her to do a c-section.  "Just take him!  Don't make me do this!  I can't do this!" She said that they couldn't do that because c-sections put the mother at risk and since I was the only one to consider here, a c-section wasn't an that was it.  I had no choice but to go home and wait for my body to release my deceased baby  

Still no tears.  Just shock.  

I can't remember Brad's reaction.  I honestly don't remember Brad being there.  I don't remember driving myself home, though I know I did, somehow.  

I do remember the tears started in the parking garage when I got to my car and I called my mom.  She knew I was at the doctor.  She happily answered my phone call and asked, "How did it go?"  I burst into tears and told her he was gone.  

Next I called my friend Leslie.  I told her what had happened and asked her to spread the word because I didn't want to tell anyone else.  I didn't want anyone to ask me about  my pregnancy and I'd have to tell them that I had lost him.  

Last, I called my friend Casey, who had a stillborn son in 2006.  I knew she was at work, but somehow, she answered my call.  She was really the only person I wanted to talk to that day and the days to come.  No one else could understand.  

I'd heard that cliche saying, "God doesn't give you more than you can handle."  I was calling BS on that one then and there.