Anger. This is the emotion I come back to the most. The grief and sadness are, and will likely, always be there, but the anger I feel is fierce, raw, painfully strong. I could go on and on about the individual things I'm angry about, but itemizing each thing is like adding little twigs to the fire. But, then again, this blog is my free therapy, and getting out what's bothering me may help.
I'm angry at the hospital system that would not allow for the anatomy scan to be scheduled a day before 20 weeks. If we'd been able to get an appointment a week earlier, maybe my dilated cervix would have been found earlier.
I'm angry at the doctor who did not prescribe any antibiotics after the cerclage. Knowing that infection was highly likely after the sac was exposed to vaginal flora, wouldn't you try to prevent possible infection for as long as possible?
I'm angry at the extremely impersonal and poor bedside manner of the doctors we saw. At the ultrasound, the doctor pulled in to consult on my cervix, after implying that our healthy baby was going to die, jumped right on to our next pregnancy and what we could do to prevent this from happening again. Less than 48 hours after our baby did die, the on-call attending OB was talking about methods of birth control and when to try again. Morgan was born just 3 weeks before viability, and I accept that her chance of survival at 20 weeks was basically zero. But that doesn't make her any less real, or any less of a person, or any less loved. If it had been my husband that had died, no one would have been talking to me about dating again if he were on life support or 48 hours after he was gone.
Above all, I think I'm most angry at God. It seems like two of every three people has said something along the lines of "Trust God", or "Lean on Him". While I was on bed rest, I prayed and prayed, believing that WE were selected to be MORGAN'S parents for a REASON, and that He wouldn't take her from us until that reason was fulfilled. Yet, now we have no little girl to kiss and cuddle. We also have no reason to explain why this happened. How can I trust that things will ever be alright, when this went so terribly wrong?
I'm also angry at those "parents" who don't recognize or appreciate the blessings they've been given. Every day, there's a news story about someone abusing, starving, or neglecting their children. Women smoke, drink, and do drugs while pregnant, and somehow manage to have beautiful little babies. Every time it was time to buy new prenatal vitamins, I agonized over which ones to buy. I avoided blue cheese, hotdogs, and jumbo cups of sweet tea like the plague. And still, my baby died.
I'm also angry that there are so many mothers, fathers, and families experiencing this pain. As an epidemiologist, even one who studies reproductive outcomes, it's easy to say "that's rare". I think it's even easier for physicians to say that, if for no other reason than to keep patients calm. But as a mother with empty arms, I'm finding that there are way too many perfect pregnancies that go awry in just an instant.