I got to go home today. I took these pictures with my camera (unlike the previous ones which were all with a phone) and was struck by the lovely view I could see now that I was standing up and walking around the room. I wanted to go home so badly and start feeling normal…but I was dreading that scene where the bereaved parents walk out of the hospital with empty arms, and drive home without their baby. I dreaded it for two days.
I got a real honest to goodness shower this morning, a warm one (that water never really got hot), with very little pain in my body, and it felt really good to wash my hair and just stand under that water. Our doctor came in to see us. We love her. She is amazing. One of the things that struck us about her and our two other caregivers, the nurse who took care of me on the OB floor right after my c-section, and the nurse who cared for me up on the surgical floor for both days of my stay, is that we could see Mara’s death was a loss for them too. They felt it deeply and provided such strong and tender care. They were just phenomenal and I can’t say enough about the care we have always received at these military facilities. Aaron’s care was superb during the entire process of his surgery and mine has been too. I’m very grateful for that.
We were also seen by some patient care representatives today who made a birth document for us and brought us some more information on the grieving process and available support. We also contacted the funeral home we had chosen to use to make arrangements for them to come and get Mara’s body from the hospital. We scheduled a meeting with them for the 20th. There were so many things to think of. It’s overwhelming. It’s amazing we got through those things as smoothly as we did, and I am so thankful that Chris and I were of one mind through the whole process. I can’t imagine how much harder it would have been if we were in conflict over how we wanted to proceed.
We asked Mom and Dad to just stay at home with Aaron since we were going to be discharged soon…knowing how long THAT part of Aaron’s surgery took, we weren’t optimistic about how quickly the process would be completed, but our doctor was totally on it and had everything in order very quickly. I think we left the hospital about 10:30 or 11.
Before we left, though, Chris and I had a long conversation with my nurse. She is an Army nurse, and she and Chris shared stories about why and how they joined the Army and the paths their careers took them on, including around the world. They were both emotional during the conversation and once again, I was impressed by the commitment and camaraderie and shared experience of service members. It was especially touching because she had displayed a rather serious and reserved personality prior to this very personal conversation. Then she explained my discharge instructions and my medications and reminded me that I had lost a lot of blood and needed to take iron. After that, we prepared to say our goodbyes, but it was obvious that she had more to say. She and I were sitting on the couch by the window and the sun was shining on our shoulders. She turned to me and was immediately choked up as she began to talk. She told me that when she saw my chart, she thought of her best friend, also named Kim, who has lost 4 babies. My nurse is a surgical nurse and although she did some OB/GYN work many years ago, she had not cared for someone who had lost a baby, so she called her friend Kim for advice and asked her, “What do I say to my patient? How do I do a good job, and be a good nurse to her?” And her friend Kim simply said, “Tell her it’s not her fault.” So my nurse held my hands and looked me right in the eyes while fighting back her own tears of empathy and said, “It’s not your fault. Mara is still your daughter, and Aaron is still her brother. She will always be a part of your family.” She leaned in to give me a bone-crushing hug and I think a choked out a thank you. I will never forget her care for us or that conversation on the couch. It has become one of those fiercely held memories that make up the tiny period of time of Mara’s life. It’s strange, the kinship that grew between us with these people that cared for us, and how tightly I cling to those memories. We have so little, that those things mean so much.
She brought us a wheelchair for our departure. I wanted to walk, because being in the wheelchair reminded me of the night we arrived at the hospital, and walking is part of healing. But she told me I have the rest of my life to walk and that I needed to let myself be taken care of for a while. So Chris wheeled me down to the door and then we left the chair there and I walked to the car holding on to Chris’ arm with a desperately tight grip. I wore my flip-flops and left my sweatshirt open…I wanted to feel the cold air on my skin and be refreshed. That walk, the empty arms walk, it is every bit as horrible as you’ve imagined, only worse. Everything about this is a complete nightmare. Only it’s one you wake up to every morning, not one you can wake up from. I remember thinking many times that I just wanted to wake up and have this all be gone…like some horrible dream. There is something so crippling about living through something like this, and knowing that nothing in the the world can reverse it.
The drive home was hard. I remember crying. I called Minnieland to let them know Aaron would be out of school for the week before Christmas. It was the first phone call I had to make to explain Mara’s death and it was excruciating. The people at Minnieland were shocked and sad, and I knew we had many more phone calls like that ahead of us. I had imagined making that call under the exact opposite set of circumstances. I wanted to be telling them that Aaron would be out of school because his baby sister was home, not because she had died. I knew then that I had a lifetime of realizations like that ahead of me too. Even so, I was glad that “first time” was over with, and I was even gladder to be home.
I don’t remember much else about this day at this point. I think this may be the day I called my sister to talk to her about Mara myself for the first time. I think Chris made many phone calls to family over these couple of days that I wasn’t in the room for. I think I got sore and took a long nap, although it’s entirely possible that happened on a different night, or multiple nights. My pain was still pretty wicked every time my Motrin wore off but it was frustrating to just sit around the house and watch things go on around me. Actually, I can’t imagine what else I would have done even if I had the ability to spring out of my chair.
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