Saturday, July 17, 2010
I went to my doctor's office this week for an annual
check-up. I was left in the room for quite a while, waiting for the doctor to
arrive. As I sat on the table, I looked back and forth across the walls on
either side of me, unable to tear my eyes away from the collages of newborns:
Their beautiful new faces and tiny bodies; the proud parents holding their
little one against their chest, weary but smiling with pure joy; and one little
baby I recognized from the bereavement group I attended in May. I met her sweet
mother six months after her baby passed at birth, due to a congenital
defect.
Vulnerable and trapped, I tried not to cry...to remain calm, even though I could feel the emotions building up inside me. But I remembered distinctly the last time I laid on that table. I was 39 weeks pregnant and I was checked to see if my amniotic fluid was leaking. It was a few days before they induced me for Ty's safety.
I sucked in deep breaths, trying to prevent the hyperventilating from escalating. But I continued to sob when Dr. Weibell walked in, witnessing my emotional state. He let me cry and talk about the last time I met with him, and how much I missed my son, and how badly I wanted to be pregnant again. He agreed without any hesitation to prescribe me 100mg of clomid for August. I'd like to hope I won't need it, but it's nice to know I'll have some help if I do.
Before my doctor's appointment, I attended a graveside service for one of Dan's friends from law school, whose baby was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS) the day after Ty passed away. Henry lived for 34 precious hours. There was a beautiful spirit at the service, where both mother and father spoke about the love for their son and the knowledge of the salvation of little children that this gospel brings us. They were broken hearted...yet so hopeful and strong, and comforted by a sweet power I personally recognize and cherish.
I stopped at the Provo Cemetery before returning home. We are only back in Utah for a short while and this was the first time I would see Ty's head-stone in person. I thought I would not be able to stand it - that I would fall apart like when I saw a picture of it from Las Vegas. But having felt that spirit at the service, I felt at peace visiting with my boy. I'm so happy I was able to attend the service. I felt a connection with Henry's mother, like I do when I hear about others who have lost children. And I was reminded of good things that I need to always keep close to my heart.
Vulnerable and trapped, I tried not to cry...to remain calm, even though I could feel the emotions building up inside me. But I remembered distinctly the last time I laid on that table. I was 39 weeks pregnant and I was checked to see if my amniotic fluid was leaking. It was a few days before they induced me for Ty's safety.
I sucked in deep breaths, trying to prevent the hyperventilating from escalating. But I continued to sob when Dr. Weibell walked in, witnessing my emotional state. He let me cry and talk about the last time I met with him, and how much I missed my son, and how badly I wanted to be pregnant again. He agreed without any hesitation to prescribe me 100mg of clomid for August. I'd like to hope I won't need it, but it's nice to know I'll have some help if I do.
Before my doctor's appointment, I attended a graveside service for one of Dan's friends from law school, whose baby was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS) the day after Ty passed away. Henry lived for 34 precious hours. There was a beautiful spirit at the service, where both mother and father spoke about the love for their son and the knowledge of the salvation of little children that this gospel brings us. They were broken hearted...yet so hopeful and strong, and comforted by a sweet power I personally recognize and cherish.
I stopped at the Provo Cemetery before returning home. We are only back in Utah for a short while and this was the first time I would see Ty's head-stone in person. I thought I would not be able to stand it - that I would fall apart like when I saw a picture of it from Las Vegas. But having felt that spirit at the service, I felt at peace visiting with my boy. I'm so happy I was able to attend the service. I felt a connection with Henry's mother, like I do when I hear about others who have lost children. And I was reminded of good things that I need to always keep close to my heart.
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