The day that our daughter Imani was born, I knew I wanted to experience it all over again. I loved being pregnant, I loved being a mother. I even loved the delivery. It was almost romantic. We had a home water birth, with candles, calming music and dimmed lights. I was very in tune with my body and felt a very strong spiritual connection with the Creator during those nine months. I couldn’t wait for Imani to have a sibling as soon as possible. My sister and I are only 23 months apart and she is my best friend. I wanted that for Imani too.
When Imani was 6 months, we moved from Amsterdam
to Martha’s Vineyard
. This was absolutely NOT my choice. My husband had an investment business in Holland
for the last 12 years. That’s where I met him. But his business had pretty much dried up after 9-11. On top of that, Norman
had an 8-year old son living on this island. He had been commuting back and forth for the last 8 years and was tired of doing so. Now that he had a new family and another baby, he wanted to settle down. And have both his children at least on the same continent.
So we moved to the US
. Our honeymoon months were instantly over. Norman
was struggling to find a new way of making a living that was more true to his heart. For years his business and income had been his image. Now he had to start all over again.
And I… I was struggling with everything! In the last year I had met my husband, became a mother, gave up my advertising career and single life, moved from the big city to a very isolated place in another country, became an instant stepmother, had to say goodbye to all my friends and family without really wanting to. It was just too much. And I blamed him. We were both going through life-changing events but couldn’t support each other very well.
Needless to say that we had our challenges in that time. The second baby was put on the backburner. But our love is strong and our therapist was patient. And after a while, we we’re doing much much better! We both found our groove on our new lifes. I was ready for that second child! Norman
was not. But luckily we still had that patient therapist J
Norman
’s first two children were both unplanned. I don’t exactly know what happened the first time around, with his ex. But for OUR daughter truly came as a surprise. Now…. cliché of all cliché’s… he loves both his children with all his heart and couldn’t imagine a life without them. He is the most involved and loving father I’ve ever met. BUT…. It was very important for him to feel that – IF he ever wanted another child – he needed to feel ready for it and it would be a part of his planning.
We learned the hard way that you CAN’T plan these things.
When we were finally both ready to have another child (oh… I waited so long to hear these words come out of his mouth), we had trouble becoming pregnant. Never thought that would happen to us. After all, we already had a daughter, that wasn’t even planned.
Every period was a bigger disappointment. I was jealous of every friend around me getting pregnant so easily.
Then in December 2005 – during a regular annual pap test – an ovarian cyst was discovered on my left ovary. It was 10 centimeters. Within a week I was in the hospital under the knife. Scary times, but they were able to save one ovary. And the cyst was benign. Within 4 months after the operation I was pregnant. We were so thrilled! We were so ready! I had been waiting for 4 long years.
All went well the first 4 months. But after 16 weeks, I woke up one night bleeding heavily. It was gushing out. It was the scariest thing ever. We rushed to the ER and I was told that I was probably miscarrying. I didn’t even think that was still possible. I mean, we had passed those fragile first 12 weeks. We were finally breathing and relaxing.
I never prayed so much as in those 24 hours in the hospital. And miraculously… the bleeding stopped. I was sent home with just some bed rest for a few days, until the bleeding had stopped for about 4 days. After that I could slowly get back to my normal activities.
Just as I thought I could get off the bed, the bleeding started all over again. Heavy bright red bleeding like the first day on your period. I was advised more bed rest and more praying. That doesn’t sound to reassuring, does it, if your doctor tells you to pray? But the praying must have helped, because the bleeding gradually got less and less. And the baby was still doing wonderful!
The official diagnose after the ultrasound was “marginal placenta abruption”. Not normal, but nothing to really fear either. The doctor’s all stayed so calm. The baby is growing fine, the heartbeat is strong. Just take it slow.
With 20 weeks we got a level II high-risk ultrasound in Boston
. What a terrible day. They told me there was nothing marginal about the bleedings! They could see that it had been quite severe; there was still a good size blood clot that had not been re-absorbed yet. On top of that, they found two soft markers for Down Syndrom. When we left the hospital, the said “good luck” instead of “you’ll be fine!”. I’ll never forget that. Good luck. What is that supposed to mean? What are they not telling me?
I cried all the way back from Boston
to the island. This first half of my pregnancy had been so full of fear. I was exhausted. But Norman
still had good faith and kept me sane.
Things turned for the better after that notorious visit to Boston
. I got my blood results back. The risk for Down all of a sudden seemed a lot less. Less than 1% actually. That never really was my big concern.
The bleeding had stopped. Not completely though, there was always some fluid leaking. But the doctor’s told me this was just old blood residue. Normal
. “But the color is concerning me” I mentioned once or twice. No no no… it’s like a bruise. It will get all the colors of the rainbow, before it will be re-absorbed by your body.
Basically, all they ever did was listen to my babies heartbeat. Going strong! No doctor ever checked my cervix. But what did I know? I trusted them. And they told me what I wanted to hear: you’re fine!
At a follow-up ultrasound 2 weeks later, they could see that the big blood clot had still not been re-absorbed by my body. “Strange… but we’re not concerned. The baby seems fine, he growing good”. I mentioned the fluid leaking again, but that was waved away. I was just too damn modest! I never thought much of it, because they didn’t see any reasons for concern. Why should I?
Than at 22 weeks 6 days, on LABORDAY of all days I woke up at 5.00 am. Was I having contractions? No, that could not be. Just some false cramps. My girlfriend had just told me a few days ago that she had false contractions all through her pregnancy. Painful ones. Mine weren’t all that painful. Besides, I had something similar only a week ago and I fell asleep during those cramps. If only I fall back asleep again now, they’ll be gone tomorrow. Like last week.
Except… I couldn’t fall back asleep. In utter disbelieve I stared at the clock. The contractions were coming every 3 minutes. And I still wasn’t alarmed! They were not all that painful. Uncomfortable, but not painful. Somehow - and this part I don’t understand about myself – I stayed in bed and looked at that clock for two-and-half hours! Really. For two-and-half hours the contractions came and went every 3 minutes. And I was still telling myself to try to sleep…. I will never have peace with that. If I would have gone to the hospital right away, would they have been able to give me something to stop labor?
At 7.30 the contractions were coming faster and more intense. All of a sudden it hit me: these are not false. Yes…. It took me THAT long to realize. I got up, turned on the TV for my daughter and try to smile so she wouldn’t panic. My heart was frozen. I couldn’t think or feel straight. All I could think was “this is not happening this is not happening this is not happening”. Over and over again. I called the midwife. She told me to go to the ER immediately.
My husband was in London
for work. He had just left the day before. I woke up my sister in-law, who was staying with us that week for a mini-vacation. I told her “I might be having contractions”. I even tried to play cool for her. I didn’t want anybody to panic. I wasn’t even panicking. Until I got in the car! I was by myself and now that I was SITTING down, the pain got real intense. The contractions were following each other every minute and the road to the hospital seemed for ever!
I parked my car almost IN the hospital lobby. The motor running. I yelled at the person behind the admission desk that my keys were in the car and that she had to take care of it. Then I ran in the ER and yelled: I AM HAVING A BABY. RIGHT NOW!
Saying these words made it real. I was in trouble and my husband was overseas. I started to freak out. The pain was so extreme. And I was so afraid for the life of my son. I started hyperventilating.
The nurses told me to undress and put on a hospital gown. I couldn’t even move. How was I supposed to put on a gown? The midwife had arrived at the ER and calmly told me to lay down on the bed, so she could check my cervix. I was freaking out. You mean like in TOUCHING me right now? Seriously? There was no way I could get on that bed!
But I felt the baby coming out. I had no choice.
I was fully dilated with and my water about to break. NOOO!!! I had no clue what was about to happen, but I saw people coming in and out of the room, bringing in all sorts of machines. I overheard them say the helicopter from Boston
was already paged. I knew that they would whisk my baby away and bring him to the NICU in Boston
as soon as he would be born. But I didn’t FEEL anything. No fear. No panic. Just physical pain. And this icy cold knowing that something was really wrong. I was in total disbelieve. As if I was dreaming a nightmare and was about to wake up any minute. But the contractions were real!
There were so many people in that ER. I closed my eyes and tried to breath through the pain. Finally the doctor came in. And within a minute he told me to go ahead and push. I screamed so loud. It hurt so much more than I remember with Imani. My little boy was breech. Of course. He wasn’t ready to come out yet. We had 17 more weeks to go together. It was all so traumatic. All these people in the room that I didn’t know. All prepared for the worse. Except for me. The worst didn’t dawn on me.
I was in panic. I was not prepared to deliver. Push? I forgot how to do it. Breath? I don’t remember how. I started hyperventilating. They put an oxygen mask on my face. This was the total opposite of the kind of delivery I had planned to have for my baby. The midwife told me I was doing wonderful. And more importantly: that my son was still there. The heartbeat was going strong and steady! No signs of panic there.
The doctor said “the arm is out” (arm? How odd). And he told me to keep pushing. I thought I didn’t have it in me anymore to keep going. I took a breath. For one second. And while catching my breath, the doctor mumbled “he didn’t make it”. He said it quietly, but I heard him. I turned my head to the right, and asked the midwife “did he say my son is death?”. She looked at me in sympathy and nodded her head.
All of a sudden the room seemed quite. I felt all eyes on me. I closed mine. I remember apologizing (seriously!). “I’m sorry, I can’t cry right now”. I didn’t feel anything. This could not be happening to me. Where is Norman
? Why is he not here?
I asked if I could put my legs down now. I was exhausted. The baby was hanging half in and half out of my body. I could feel him hanging there. Dead. It was horrific. That feeling I will never forget. They covered the baby with a blanket. And I lay like that for quite a while.
The doctor started explaining that it was probably for the best. A baby of 23 weeks old has a very small chance of survival. And often suffers lifelong physical damage. I guess he was trying to comfort me. But it wasn’t for the best! We shouldn’t even be there, in that ER. We should be at home, just waking up like every other Monday morning. I should not have gone in labor for another 16-17 weeks.
I eventually push out the baby and placenta by myself. Our son is born at 9.33 am. The moment he is born I closed my eyes. “Please, I don’t want to see him” I said. Why I did that, I don’t know. I actually regret that now. I guess out of self-protection. Who wants to see a dead baby? So they took him away. One by one the nurses and doctors left the room. Machines were taken back out. The helicopter got cancelled. One last nurse washes me a little and leaves as well. All of a sudden it is so still in here. Just a while ago this room was full of panic. Just a while ago I was still pregnant. Just a while ago I could still hear my sons heartbeat. And now it is totally quite. I don’t feel much. A single tear rolls over my cheeks. All I feel is a stone cold and heavy feeling in my heart. A feeling that hasn’t left since….
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