This school year (to give it a definite beginning) has been one of the hardest times of my entire life. Last summer I probably weighed about 118. Today as I sit here writing, I weigh 99 on a good day. Fall semester was a train wreck. I was sick ALL the time and felt like my body was just trying to attack me. We didn't know what was wrong and went to the doctor many times trying to figure it out. I got my blood drawn for the first time, got IVs for the first time...and I got put on the most disgusting, horrible medication I have ever taken. This medication seemed to clear some of my symptoms, but they soon returned and it felt like we were back at square one. Derek and I were trying to plan our wedding, go to school, and deal with my health. I honestly don't know how he put up with me, but I do know that in a way it was a blessing for us because I had to learn to let go of some control and really let him into our life. We had a beautiful wedding and then that night, and most of the honeymoon, I once again wasn't feeling very well. I did my best to put on a good face, but it was rather difficult. We got back to school and once again, to the doctor's I went. We did some more testing and finally confirmed that I had C difficile--a nasty bacterial infection. I was literally brought to tears when I heard I would but put BACK on that horrible medication, and this time 3 times a day. I think I made it...3 days max before I was throwing up and couldn't take the medication anymore. I went to a GI and he basically told me he figured I was cured. This brought a brief period of mediocre health. This experience, along with the ones you will continue to read about bring me to the picture seen above. Prior to this year, I'm not sure I've ever really been on a medication...heck, I really don't like pills. But that is a picture of what I've been on and I still have evidence of. Hello junky.
Winter semester was a little easier to handle and I thought maybe things were looking up. Derek and I decided to stay during our off-track, and I quickly questioned that decision as I was completely drained with schooling. A few weeks later we got extremely exciting news--we were expecting our first baby. Floods of emotions ran through me, I had already experienced some uneasiness before we found out, so I was a little nervous how things would go. After appointments being pushed back far too many times, I once again met with the GI and he told me things looked good, and he would basically turn me over to an OBGYN. The next few weeks were....let's just say tough. I was already underweight and was finding extremely difficult to get myself to eat and started throwing up more consistently. One day Derek dragged me to the doctor's office and I refused to go in because I knew I was going to be sick and I wasn't about to throw up in front of all those people. He went in and I waited outside and threw up in the bushes. We went back in, found out that my body was starting to tear down my muscles because I wasn't getting enough in me; more IVs. They prescribed me some nausea medication--for which I was very grateful--and we anxiously waited the next week for our first "official" appointment.
The doctor finally came in and I just lost it again but I just wanted him to say what he had to say so we could leave. Most of what he said just floated over me and I tried to get a handle on the reality of things. Since I hadn't had any bleeding or cramping or anything, he told us that the body doesn't always do a good job of flushing things out and he suggested a D&C. I remember many times in church when people would say they didn't like when others referred to the Doctrine and Covenants as D&C, and now I finally comprehend why. It broke my heart even more to realize that I was about to have this precious little body, not even 2 cm in length, sucked out of me. We left the doctor and went to the hospital to register for my surgery. Woah. Surgery. That is a new one. Obviously a small one, I would just be there for a short time and have a fairly quick recovery. But wow, it all was just rushing past me and I didn't understand what was going on.
We finally got home and Derek and I both just lost it. We knew we had to tell our families, I tried to call my mom and when she finally answered I just started bawling and I couldn't say a word. Derek had to break the news to her. He gave me a blessing and then called a friend from the ward, asking to give him a blessing. Those friends later brought us dinner, dessert, and movies. I'm so grateful for the supportive family and friends we have, otherwise, I honestly don't know what I would do. I tried to sleep, I desperately wanted to sleep. All I could think of was how desperately I just wanted to see our little peanut, whether it was one last time on the ultrasound, or see that tiny, perfect body. It killed me to know with wouldn't be a reality. It took what felt like hours until I finally drifted to a state of unconsciousness. Within a 6 hour period I got up twice to go to the bathroom, and eventually Derek woke up to go to his lab. I just laid in bed for as long as I could. I was ordered to fast from midnight on the morning of my surgery (today, the 5th). I don't know if you can comprehend what that is like for me. I'm at a much lower weight than I would like to be, and I had barely been able to keep food down, but my stomach is only so big, and I get really nauseous when it gets too empty. Some how I made it.
Finally it was time to make our way to the hospital. We checked in and got taken back to day surgery. And so the adventure began. I started to put on my hospital gown and I decided it would be a good idea to go to the bathroom first. I open the door to the bathroom (completely naked, I might add) to find out this is a shared bathroom, and the door to the hallway is wide open. I quickly ran to cover and Derek closed the door. Thank Heavens I was the only person in surgery today; otherwise I might not have made it through the rest of the day. I've never been in a hospital bed before. I got another IV, and was quickly getting warm and sweaty (I blame the nerves). People kept coming in, asking questions, asking what they could do for me...but I just didn't know what to tell them. Everyone was really nice, but they all seemed so calm and like it was no big deal. A part of me resented it. This was a huge deal, I just found out we lost our baby and here I was, for my first surgery, to have it removed. The anesthetist came in and gave me a brief explanation of what was going to happen and then in a very heart-felt voice uttered "I'm really sorry you have to go through this." My word, I respected that woman. She didn't sit and wallow or fawn over us, but she recognized the pain of our situation and what I had to go through, and she simply made me feel she understood.
We then found out the doctor was running late and would be another half hour. I was getting antsy at this point, and really beginning to worry about my hunger level. When the half hour time had nearly passed, they came in again to say that he was going to be even later and now didn't even have an estimate for when he would arrive. Waiting, waiting, and waiting. Finally I heard his voice in the hallway and he came in to tell us that he had a serious emergency he had to attend to but that we would quickly get things going. The nurse took my bed back to the operating room and my anxiety was building. My heart really raced as she opened the door and some unknown person wheeled me in. I've never seen an operating room before, and here I was facing it alone, for something I really didn't want to happen. They raised my bed up and put me next to the table. I moved myself over and they began putting things all over me. I heard a male voice behind me, who I assumed was my doctor, but then realized he was much too young to be my doctor. They started strapping my arms down and monitoring my rates. The last thing I remember is this male telling me he was going to give me some medication in the IV, but he would tell me when he was giving me the sleepy stuff. I told them I hoped I didn't do anything crazy, they reaffirmed I would be fine. The next thing I know, I'm waking up back in my hospital bed in...a recovery room, I guess? I really want to know if that guy lied to me, or if I just don't remember him telling me he was putting me to sleep. Guess I'll never know. I never saw my doctor in the operating room, and apparently he had already come and talked to Derek and left by the time the wheeled me back into my room, but I assume he did his job. We waited for awhile, finally got some food in me, and I was on my way. Let me tell you, it is a strange thing having things on you body that you don't remember being put there.
We came home, and it was time to rest, and start grasping the reality that things had to get back to normal. Emotions, emotions, emotions. It's hard to see all these baby things for sale, people posting their cute ultrasounds, or pictures of their babies, or even seeing old pictures of when I was holding my new nephews, knowing that this no longer will be a reality for us for quite some time. I know the pain would probably multiply tremendously if we had to face this further down the road, but I'll admit, it is especially difficult not feeling any different, but knowing I no longer have that precious child growing within me. To make matters worse, I feel like my stomach is even bigger today, thank you Mother Nature. In all reality though, I know we really are blessed with all these people that care about us and look out for us. It has been a tremendously difficult journey, and I know it isn't going to be easy from here on out as I recover physically and emotionally, but it brings such peace to know that God has a plan for me and for our family, and that someday we will be able to bring home a little one we can call our own. Here's to hoping things look up and sleep rests easily tonight. Thanks for all the love and support.
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