Losing Sammy felt like a huge blow to the stomach. Figuratively and literally.
With Andrew, I was naïvely optimistic. Something that " bad " can't happen twice. Right ?
When I my water broke and I went to the L&D like I was instructed; I was told for surely I didn't have a clue, because women's water doesn't break til they are "due". Go home and rest, I must have over done it, or something like that. Well Doc who's been practicing forever was wrong. Andrew was delivered so tiny, but not tiny, but so perfectly formed. Every little detail about him. I got a glimpse of what our children looked like ( in the physical world ).
With David. I was overly cautious. For surely my luck couldn't strike again. It was like a bad dream. I still remember the bed, the room the nurse, the ultrasound, the delivery room. I have to say, I don't think I really felt pain delivering him, ( yes their was ) but I didn't complain, I didn't moan, I took it all in stride. I savored every second I had with him. I was sad I never got to see into his eyes. I wanted to see if he had the same beautiful brown eyes as his daddy. He sure had his full head of hair.
The physical pain, never really felt present. It was more a deep down, pit in my stomach. Something I couldn't get rid of.
I didn't have anyone I could relate to, no one I knew, had experienced anything like this. Yeah I knew people who had a miscarriage, but went on to get pregnant the next month, and had oodles of kids to boot.
It felt so lonely and isolating.
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