Tag Archives: Pregnancy

A Letter To My Nurse In The ER

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You probably don’t remember me, I wouldn’t expect you to.  I was the girl who came into the ER 9 weeks pregnant and spotting.  Everyone had assured me that they were sure that everything was fine with the baby, especially since I had just had a normal ultrasound a few days ago, but I thought the spotting was strange.  We chatted about the hospital that we both work at and you told me that you were a float nurse working in the ER that day…just small talk to fill the empty space during vital signs and assessments.  Nick and I actually spent much more time with the doctor, who also assured us that everything should be ok, but maybe let’s do an ultrasound just to put my mind at ease.  I knew that something was wrong when the ultrasound took forever and the tech never turned the screen for me to see the baby.  The doctor came in our room a few minutes later and told us what I knew in my heart already.  Our baby had died.  There was no fetal heart beat.  He said his condolences and informed us that there was nothing more to be done in the ER, he was sending us home.  You came back into the room and after going through the discharge information with me nodding my head and muttering “I understand” what seemed like a thousand times, you leaned over, looked directly into my eyes and said (quite forcefully) “It’s not your fault.  You need to know that this is NOT your fault.”  I nodded again and after you left the room Nick even made a comment to me about how rough you were.  The thing is, that was exactly what I needed.  And for some reason, it was you who stayed in my head over the next few days and even after.  Practically every person I know told me the exact same thing but for some reason, I believed you.

During the confirmatory ultrasound at my doctor’s office you popped into my head “It’s not your fault”.

As I sat listening to my doctor talk about probable genetic mutations and how often this actually happens, you were there “It’s not your fault”.

Over the course of the next few days, through my D&C and through hours of laying in bed too numb to cry, there you were “It’s not your fault”.

When I went back to work and was literally surrounded by women who were pregnant and due within weeks of my due date, a constant reminder of what I had lost, “It’s not your fault”.

Even after I got pregnant again just two months later.  When I thought that being pregnant again was all I wanted and then feeling the guilt of realizing that I wasn’t ready yet, “It’s not your fault”.

At Christmas when my aunt pulled me aside to give me a hug and whisper words of advise that can only come from a woman who has lost a baby herself.  When, knowing that I was already pregnant again, I had to smile and say that I was okay before quickly slipping into the bathroom to cry.  And then sitting in that bathroom feeling ridiculous for crying over a fetus that was only 9 weeks gestation. There you were again, “It’s not your fault”.

As all of those work girls had their spring babies, “It’s not your fault”.

As I prepared for Lia to be born, “It’s not your fault”.

Even now, as I hold by beautiful, perfect baby in my arms and I breathe in her sweet baby smell, I am overwhelmed with both gratitude and sorrow.  For the baby I hold and for the one who was lost.  The one that made it possible for Lia to be born.  And there you are again.  Once more reminding me that it’s not my fault.

My Tooth Story

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I’m going to try to write on my blog more, which I know is something I say all the time.  But this time I’m really going to do it.  Really.  My goal is to be a full time, self employed blogger.  So somebody better start following me and writing comments on this thing!  🙂  As part of all this, I tried to get past my horrible computer skills and update the look of my blog and try to figure out what different things I can do with it.  I found that I can have a heading.  A one sentence type of thing that describes me and my blog.  And so, after much deliberation, I decided on “South Florida girl moves to the ‘country’ where shirts, shoes and a full set of teeth are all optional.”  I thought it was pretty witty and funny.  Not gonna lie, I was proud of myself.  Until I realized that I am totally starting to fit in here…I officially do not have a full set of teeth.

When I was pregnant with Kate, my body was generally against me.  In addition to the bitchiness, I had headaches, I felt exhausted all the time, Katelyn enjoyed using my kidneys as a punching bag, I randomly got the worst UTI in history and, oh yeah, my tooth fell out.  Let’s all take a moment to reflect on that last statement.  OK, done.  And yes, you read it correctly.  My tooth actually fell out.  (Well, I suppose that’s a slight exaggeration.  A quarter of one of my molars fell out.  But still!!!  That’s a quarter of a very large tooth!)  It was like those dreams people have about loosing their teeth, except it was real.  And it sucked.  A lot.

It happened on a Saturday night.  That morning, my tooth started hurting and progressively got more annoying as the day went on.  After Alexa went to bed, I was sitting on the couch with Nick, telling him how I was probably going to make an appointment at the dentist on Monday because this crazy ache in my tooth just won’t go away.  He suggested that I do a good flossing because maybe I got a piece of food stuck or something.  That sounded like a good suggestion and it made sense that it might be a piece of food because of how suddenly it came on.  We finished watching our show and got up to go to bed.  (I’m going to add in some stuff that is slightly off topic here, but I think it really highlights the ridiculousness of the whole situation)  We both walked into the bathroom.  Nick peed while I started brushing my teeth.  (Stay with me here)  He flushed the toilet (I swear, he just peed) and it started overflowing!  Poop water started spilling over the edge of the toilet seat!  He runs to get dog towels from our bedroom, comes back in and realizes that poop water is now backing up into the bathtub.  At this point, I had finished brushing my teeth and was trying to help him.  In an effort to keep me away from the strange poop juice that was coming up and also to try to alleviate my tooth pain (and my complaining), he told me to just floss and let him clean up.  So I started flossing as he ran to another bathroom to get the plunger.  It was at that moment, surrounded by the stench of feces that I tried to floss at the site of my pain and off popped a huge chunk of my tooth.  At first I didn’t even know what it was.  I assumed it was the piece of food that was stuck.  Until I realized how big it was and there was no way something that big could have been stuck between my teeth.  I spit it out and looked in my mouth to a gaping hole where one of my molars should be.  It was horrific.  And I swear, I didn’t even floss that hard.  The only up side was that it didn’t hurt anymore.  So, of course Nick walked back into the bathroom, plunger in hand, to me standing there with my mouth open, holding my tooth, tears streaming down my face, in utter shock.  I said “my tooth fell out!” and he laughed because really, at that moment, not much else could have gone wrong.

The toilet thing ended up being a plumbing problem as opposed to a septic tank problem.  George and Carolyn happened to be up here for Antonio’s birthday party, so Nick, George, Kim and Steve spent all day Sunday fixing the plumbing.  By Sunday evening, the toilet was working and there was no more poop water in my bathtub.  My tooth, on the other hand, required a bit more intervention.  I discovered that there is no emergency dentist in Tallahassee.  (apparently there are emergency dentists, just not here)  I lived with a hole in my tooth until Monday when I was able to see someone and then discovered that I had to have a root canal.  I’m still not entirely sure what that entails.  I just know that, because I was pregnant, they had to give me a different kind of numbing medication, which obviously doesn’t work as well.  And of course I have super long tooth roots that curve which made the whole root canal process even longer.  And, again because of the pregnancy, I had to wait until after Kate was born to get the final crown (I think that’s what it’s called) made and put on.  Oh, did I mention that I despise the dentist, can not stand anyone touching my teeth and have had a (traumatic) previous experience with numbing medicine not working during a filling?  I think it’s safe to say that this whole experience made my anxiety level go up exponentially.

I have decided that I’m going to leave my blog heading the way it is, knowing that as the years go on, I am becoming less out of place up here.  (At least I get my teeth fixed when they fall out)  I don’t really feel like I belong in south Florida anymore either,  so maybe it’s a good thing.  One thing is for sure…I will NOT develop a country accent!

(August 13, 2013)