Thursday, 17 December 2009

A change of mind

I've changed my mind.

It's not October I want to go back to. It's the me I was that afternoon. The he that D was. Sitting in the assessment unit, bored as anything and hungry for our lunch.

Because we genuinely, truly, 100% believed that everything was OK. That the baby was just lying too low down to hear its heartbeat. It really hadn't occurred to us that anything could be wrong. Or, no - it had, but we'd discounted it. My midwife had said it was probably OK. The midwives at the unit didn't look worried. They seemed to be in no rush to get us in for the scan. Surely if there was any chance something was wrong they would have whisked us in by now. And anyway. We were way past 12 weeks. No pain. No bleeding. There was nothing wrong. How could there be?

I had considered sending D back to work when the midwife sent me to the hospital. I felt guilty for stopping him from going back - he had work to do! and everything was OK! - but he never considered not coming with me.

I don't know what I would have done without him.

I can't believe that, if (pleasegodno) we ever find ourselves in that situation again, we'll be able to believe that there is the slightest chance that everything is OK.

It's going to be hard.


trousers said...

I feel, in a way, like I'm intruding, the fact that I'm able to comment. Not in a bad way, not at all. Just that - I know this whole process must be very difficult, and I don't know how difficult - just that your eloquence about what's happened, and how you're dealing with the aftermath (at least from what you're sharing with us) is very humbling.

I can only really speak for myself, but I'm guessing that one reason it feels difficult to put things into words by way of adding a comment, is that you've already said so much: with a truly pithy and powerful economy of expression.

While I don't really think this is the moment to discuss your writing style, what I'm thinking - and hoping - is that the qualities in your writing betray the strengths that lie behind it, because to me it appears very evident.

I hope that what I'm trying to convey in the above few sentences makes at least a little bit of sense.

Whether it does or not, please know that you have my continuing best wishes.


Fiona said...

Just a brief comment, as it's impossible for me to come up with something that doesn't sound like a platitude. I wanted to suggest the SANDS website, in case you haven't come across it already. It helped a dear friend of mine a great deal when she lost her little girl.

BeckyG said...

B, I so wish I had words that could comfort or that I was able to make it all okay again. I know that I don't have those words and that nothing can take away the pain right now, but I am here and always ready to listen if that's what you need, or do something distracting if that's what you need. Whatever, I'm here as a friend and want to help in anyway I can. Thinking of you loads and sending hugs your way.

B said...

trousers, thank you so much. that helped, although i can't explain why. it just did. you are a star.

Fiona, thank you so much for pointing me there. I will get in touch with them.

Becky, thank you. I appreciate your support more than I can tell you, especially because you have so much going on in your own life. I'm looking forward to meeting up again. *hugs*