The mood in the house has been somber for the past couple of days because something bad had happened… something really bad. It’s even worse than me peeing on the bed. As a filial and understanding son, I am letting mama share with you what happened so hopefully she’ll feel better after letting it all out.
On 7 April, exactly one month after my 10th year anniversary with Huskee’s papa, I went to see the doctor as I had a discomfort in my lower abdomen. The doctor did some routine checks and a scan showed that it was a cyst. It was fairly harmless and should go away, but at the same time, the doctor also noticed that I appeared to be pregnant. After a more thorough check, it was confirmed. This came a surprise because we have been trying for a while to have a baby. Preliminary tests indicated that I was about 4 weeks along, meaning that this baby was conceived on the day of our 10th year anniversary. What could be more special and meaningful, right? It is the perfect present for both of us.
With the help of some close friends, we planned a small surprise and broke the news to my hubby immediately after he arrived back in Singapore after a business trip. The word ‘shocked’ does not fully describe his reaction then and he kept asking me to swear that we were not pulling his leg.
Hubby and I were ecstatic about the impending arrival of this new life, so were our family and friends. Along the way, I had some spotting and went back to the doctor’s several times for shots to boost the pregnancy. The doctor gave me some medical leave to rest at home and was also told to try and relax myself and not to be too stressed by work (HA HA!!). Otherwise, all my scans indicated that our baby was developing beautifully and the test results were very good. Other than feeling a little nauseated during the 5th to 8th week, I was beginning to enjoy the feeling of having a little life growing inside me… and also enjoying the undivided attention from my hubby despite it being Euro 2008 !
I was so looking forward to introducing Huskee to his little brother/ sister too… and I really want my child to know and grow up with Huskee because Huskee also played such an important part in me and hubby’s relationship and lives. I was just telling hubby the other day that I can’t wait to take a photo of Huskee and baby during their first meeting… although someone will have to keep a very close eye on Huskee just in case he decides to nibble the baby’s fingers/ toes/ nose/ etc… it’s no secret that Huskee does not react well to things that makes a lot of noise or things that he’s unsure of!
I had some of the typical pregnancy symptoms, i.e. having sore (but HUGE) boobs, feeling bloated, waking up 2 to 3 times a night to go to the toilet, my face was starting to break out with acne, etc. What I loved most was that I noticed my clothes were gradually getting tight, it’s a sign that the little life is growing! I also loved it when hubby put his head on my growing belly to talk to our baby. Ever since hubby accompanied me to my first scan and saw a fuzzy scan of the baby, he was already convinced that it was going to be a boy. Deep down, I had a gut feeling that it was a boy too… call it Mother’s instinct! But whenever hubby referred to the baby as ‘he’ / ‘him’, I enjoyed teasing him by saying that I felt it was a girl and it’d spark off a lively round of ‘debate’.
Hubby loved telling baby that he’d buy him all the toys he could ever ask for and was even planning on buying him a pair of Gucci baby booties, a Burberry stroller, the cute little pullovers which we have been eyeing for a long time from Polo Ralph… the list goes on. Last Sunday, which was Father’s Day, hubby as usual talked to the baby saying that it was Father’s Day and that he was already looking forward to Father’s Day next year when baby will be about 6 months old.
Just as we were going to bed that night, I had a sudden gush of blood and we immediately went to the hospital. The doctor did some checks and said that it was probably due to the fact that my placenta was a bit low. Anyway, the important thing is that the baby’s fine and I saw from the scan that he was happily punching and kicking in the waterbag. I was given a hormone injection and a week’s leave from work. At home that night, hubby even said that it was baby’s way of wishing him Happy Father’s Day.
To be on the safe side, we went to see my regular doctor first thing the next morning. During the routine check, she found out that somehow my waterbag had burst and some of the amniotic fluid had already leaked. Numerous factors could have caused it… infection, stress, the bleeding the night before, etc and there’s no chance of the baby surviving without the waterbag and we had to terminate the pregnancy soon as it may lead to a serious infection for me. We did a scan and although the waterbag appeared a lot smaller, baby's heart was still beating strongly and baby was moving around, although much lesser this time cos he’s got lesser space. At that time, both hubby and I were too shocked to cry or even react to what the doctor told us. It was too sudden… too unexpected.
I could tell that the doctor was as stunned as we were but she told us in no uncertain terms that it was a hopeless case and the baby will not survive. I was immediately warded into the hospital so that the doctor can perform the abortion. Though we knew deep in our hearts that there was no chance for our baby, hubby and I decided to delay the abortion till the following day so that we can spend one last night with our precious darling. Breaking the news to our family and friends was the other difficult part.
That night was the longest night in my life. I cried till I don’t think I had anymore tears left and Hubby cried alongside with me for the baby that we so badly wanted but could never hold. My heart broke into a million pieces and I don’t think it’ll ever mend. We kept telling baby how sorry we were and how much we loved him. I really did not want to keep referring to the baby as ‘it’, so hubby and I decided that if the baby’s a girl, we’d call her ‘Chloe’ and if it’s a boy, he’d be called ‘Lucas’.
The next morning the doctor came and gave me the pills that’d induce the miscarriage and take this precious life out of my body. The pills were to be taken 3 hourly until ‘it’ happens… the first was at 9.20am, then again at 12.20pm. By 12.50pm, I started having minor contractions and it very quickly became full-blown ones by 1.15pm. By 1.30pm, ‘it’ happened… Our baby’s gone.
We told the doctor that we wanted to know the baby’s gender because at 14 weeks, it’s already formed although we weren’t able to tell from the earlier scans. Hubby’s right.. our baby's a boy. The doctor asked if we wanted to see him and we agreed because I was afraid I’d regret forever if I didn’t even get to see my precious baby Lucas. He was tiny… at just 10 cm, he was slightly bigger than the size of my palm. However, he was already perfectly formed… we could see his teeny-weeny fingers and toes. What broke my heart further was how peaceful he looked. He was cuddled up and looked like he was sound asleep. The doctor checked him and said that our Lucas was perfectly fine and would continue to develop if it weren’t for the burst waterbag. Hearing this made me feel even worse cos I felt that as a mother, I failed my duty to protect my baby. MY failure had led to the demise of my baby…
That evening, I had to go through a short surgery to ‘clean-up’ my womb to prevent infection… They will put me under a GA during the procedure and as I was waiting for my turn at the Operating Theatre, I thought about many things during that 30min. Honestly I wouldn’t mind if I did not wake up from the GA… at least I have my baby waiting for me on the other side and he wouldn’t be so alone.
It’s been 2 days since I lost my baby boy… and not a second goes by where I don’t think of him and of the times which we COULD have spent together... i.e counting his little fingers and toes when he's born, trying to determine if he looked more like me or hubby, teaching him how to call us, hubby teaching him to play ball/ cycle/ swim, me nagging at him to keep his toys back in the toy box...
Things are especially bad when I am alone or when I see young children or infants… they had the chance that my baby did not have. I don't deny that I am still angry with the big guy up there for taking away such an innocent life, and would like to know what we did to deserve this, but now, hubby and I have stopped questioning ‘why’… what’s the point anyway? It will not bring our baby back.
Hubby was with me throughout the ordeal and I can say that we grew up through it and it brought our relationship to another level. I saw another side of him that I never knew. He was so strong for the both of us while I kept collapsing in a helpless mess, especially at night. I always thought I was a mentally and emotionally strong person, but this episode proved that I was wrong… so wrong. Hubby was so calm, so rationale when we had to make difficult decisions and had been so understanding. He even blames himself for not having taken better care of me and baby. He also catered to my every need, even in the wee hours of the morning despite him not having any sleep for 2 days straight and tirelessly comforted me through my bouts of crying at all times of the day.
Family and friends have rallied around us during this period, this we’ll forever be grateful for. Many people have also told us that ‘it’s ok, you can try again’, it is said with no ill-intent of course, but honestly, it really is NOT ok… no one will ever be able to replace Lucas in my heart and when they took him away, they also took away a big piece of my heart. Other than our family, there are a few special friends that hubby and I want to thank. 1) Huskee’s Godma aka Scuba’s mom. She’s really been there for me and hubby through all our ups and downs, highs and lows. I reckon she’s also the only person who really understands why we decided to give a name to a 14week old fetus. 2) My best friend for trying her best to comfort me through sms because she knows me well enough to know that I’d prefer to be left alone at a time like this although I know she was worried sick.
During my stay in the hospital, my sweet hubby went to the nearby Tiffany shop and bought each of us a ‘dog tag’ cos of what it symbolizes and wearing it enables us to keep baby Lucas close to his mummy and daddy’s hearts always. It also allows us to engrave some text on one side of it. Like a soldier, our baby Lucas fought a war… unfortunately it was one that he had no chance of winning. I don’t have a photo of the tag now, but the words we inscribed on the tag are:
07.03.08 – 17.06.08
Sleep tight, my precious baby Lucas. Till we meet again… And don’t you ever forget that Daddy and Mommy love you so, so much… always.
If you are still reading this, thank you for reading my baby’s short story. I tried to edit to make it shorter, I really did… But decided against it eventually because my poor baby’s life was already so short… I really didn’t want to short-change him any further.
Hopefully, writing this will give me the closure that I so desparately need... Now, things are finally starting to sink in as I lose the feeling of being pregnant... my old clothes are beginning to fit, I don't have to wake up 3 times every night to go to the toilet, my skin seems to be clearing up and going back to normal... but the funny thing is that I am not happy about any of it. I'd much rather wear a rice sack/ table cloth, wake up 10 times every night to pee, have blotchy/ spotty skin, etc... just so that I can have my Lucas back.