We found love in a hopeless place...

Thursday night. The night I lost the baby, I waited exactly 2 hours before the phone rang. On the other end was my husband. He told me he was coming home.

I slept very little that night. Maybe 2 hours. In total.

I ate nothing.

The next day, friday, I don't think I left the sofa. I don't remember.

Saturday afternoon there was a knock on the door.

I opened it.

There stood Michael. Skinny, but finally home. 

I barely moved from Thursday to Sunday. Terrified of bleeding/cramping before Sunday. I was instructed by Dr. Rosin to go immediately to the Klinikum if I had either symptom. I became so angry at the idea of any other doctor doing the procedure. Angry and nervous. 

It hit me as to why I needed it to be Dr. Rosin. He was the only person in the world who had been with me. He was the only one who saw the baby alive, and then he was the one to tell me the baby was no longer alive.

Saturday at 9pm, was the last sip of water I had before the surgery. I had to fast for at least 8 hours before. 

Sunday arrived, and Heike took us to the Hospital. Not before hugging me, and securing my seatbelt for me. 

At the hospital she did all the German stuff for us, while we just followed her lead. We went to a waiting room, and shortly after, there was Dr. Rosin standing in his white coat, calling my name. He did another scan to make sure.

I saw the scan with clear eyes. The perfect shape of a perfect baby, motionless inside me. My body pretending it was still pregnant. I said "I just don't want to look anymore." He said "That's ok. You don't have to look." I turned my head and cried. The 2nd opinion girl told the doctor in German that it was correct, there was no heartbeat.

My husband looked defeated. This was the first time he saw his child.

I got dressed, and Dr. Rosin explained how everything would go. He told me I could try again for a baby when "you are ok here." and pointed to his head. I nodded. 

He lead me, Mike and Heike up to the 13th floor. We waited and waited for what seemed like endless hours.

The doctor came in to apologize for our long wait. There was an emergency surgery which pushed us back. I shrugged. He told me my body was NOT ready for the miscarriage and he gave me medicine to start the process, in addition to an IV to "Take away the thirsty."

The time finally arrived, and the nurses helped me get dressed in the gowns and leggings. The nurse and Michael wheeled me in my bed to the operating room. My husband kissed me and told me he loved me. Then through the doors I went.

The operating room was cold. So cold I was shivering. The nurse told the operating room nurse "Sie spricht kein Deutsch"

And even though I do, I didn't really care. They helped me up onto a warm conveyor belt. I was shivering from the cold. The operating room nurse piled hot blankets on me. The other nurse told me she would see me soon.

I felt like I was going to fall right off the conveyor belt, but really I was just being transferred to another bed.

The operating room nurse put a green hair cover on me, and strapped my legs to the table. I thought to myself "This is some crazy nazi shit."

She then wheeled me over to the operating area. Another nurse came up. I started crying. Not from fear of being put to sleep. I trust my doctor. I knew I was in good hands.

I was crying because this was truly goodbye.

Goodbye to my baby that I'd never meet. I'd never know what color his/her eyes would be. Or if it was a him/her.

Another nurse came up. I heard someone say to her "Sie spricht nur Englisch. Sie hat keine anderen Kinder."

The new nurse rubbed my face and said "What can I say? Nothing. Let the tears flow."

The anesthesiologist said "I just give her tranquilizah now."

I heard Dr. Rosin say "No! You Wait."

Then Dr. Rosin said "Mrs. Suman. Mrs. Suman. Look at me." He was standing by my feet. I saw only his eyes, as his mouth and head were covered in green. He said "It is me. I am here for you. I said I would be here for you. It is me."
Then he told the anesthesiologist to give me the medicine. 

Dr. Rosin said "Mrs. Suman keep looking at me. I am here for you."

I said "Oh. Thank you. Should I feel dizzy?"
He said "Yes, you should."

Then I closed my eyes.

I remember hearing a lady say again that I only speak english. So I muttered, "I can speak German."

Dr. Rosin said "Mrs. Suman, say something in German for us."

I slowly from far away said "Blah blah blah."

He said "VERY good, Mrs. Suman."

The next thing I remember He was rubbing my upper arm saying "Mrs. Suman. Mrs. Suman."

I said "Is it over?" But I felt so far away.
He said "Yes. It is over."
I said "Oh. I don't have a baby anymore."
He said "Soon. Mrs. Suman You will have your baby soon."

I then said "My doctor is a Saint."

I'm pretty sure I told EVERYONE that. Although I can't say for sure. It all felt very dream like.

The first face I saw was my husband's. He assured me that I even told him that Dr. Rosin was a 'saint.'
While I was having the D&C my husband bought my favorite German candy bar for me. When I could eat, he went to the hospital 'buffet' and made a sandwich for me, which tasted like heaven. Then he broke off pieces of my chocolate bar and fed them to me.

Dr. Rosin came into my room later. He asked Michael if I was better or still talking a lot. Which made me sort of laugh, because I know I was saying all kind of things before I was fully awake.

He gave me the updates on everything and told me I was free to go home.

Even though, we decided to stay over because I was SO exhausted. I couldn't keep my eyes open enough to get home.

My darling husband slept in 3 chairs mushed together, RIGHT by my side. Waking with a start everytime I had to go to the bathroom. He helped me there each time. He would get up and straighten out the tights they made me wear.  I look at him with a whole new deeper love now. I realize how amazingly lucky I am. And how beautiful our love truly is.

The next morning the nurse told us to get breakfast, and would we like it at the buffet, or in our room? I said "We can go to the buffet."

I stepped in and saw the breakfast items and there, in his bassinet a brand new baby. I felt frozen. I felt paralyzed. I felt short of breath.

I broke down crying.

The nurse hurried me back to my room and Michael got my breakfast, and so did she. She came in with a huge tray, and I thought "wow. My husband picked out some strange things for me." 

Then in walks Mike with my typical breakfast. 

Later that morning I went home. The sun was shining. 

I sat on the sofa, and cried.

When I went the following week to see the doctor for the post-op control visit, he told us that he sees no reason why we cannot try after one cycle, and that my chances of miscarriage are now lower. He told us that he wants us to not try to get pregnant but to not try to not get pregnant.

Miscarriage is something no one wants to talk about, really. I've struggled with blaming myself. Even though my dear doctor assured me that it was no fault of my own. It is hard. I need someone to blame. Yet, logically, I know there is no one to blame.

I have to say, out of that horrible experience, I found SO much love. Love from strangers. Kindness and tenderness from people who were under no obligation to bestow it upon me.

I see the good interwoven in the saddness that happened. 

Even in my broken hearted state, G-d showed me a love so deep that I am humbled and astounded. 

From the elderly man on the bus, to the girl who offered me a tissue to wipe my tears, the nurse who helped me dress, to Josie my dear friend who made phone calls to get my husband home, to the army who rushed to get him back for the procedure, to my dearest German friend who took time out of her Sunday to drive us to the Hospital, to the nurse who rubbed my face, to the doctor who cried with me when my baby died, and made sure I knew it was him who was in the operating room to my darling husband who truly was there in every way for me.

What did I do to deserve such benevolence?  

A sort-of Baby story.

I found out, on October 8th, that guess what? I'm pregnant.

Michael was away on a mission for who-can-say-how-long.

Two pregnancy tests, and calls to family and friends for an over-the-phone confirmation, and there I stood looking at those little double lines in total shock.

3 days later, It was confirmed by the health clinic on post. 

Me. Little ol' me. Pregnant. 

I rode the post shuttle bus and cried from happiness as the bus driver blasted Colbie Caillatt's song, Brighter Than the Sun. 
My heart was singing those very lyrics to my tiny baby who was secretly just in there, doing what they do at that stage of life.

My first doctor's appointment was a mix of excitement, nervousness, and nausea. I sat in the waiting room waiting for what seemed like decades, breathing through my mouth, willing myself NOT to throw up. 

The person who coined the phrase MORNING sickness, clearly had things a bit easier than me. I had what could only be described as round-the-clock sickness.

Finally Dr. Rosin called me back. He smiled and shook my hand. "I remember you." 

I said "Oh. Really?" (My nerves for male doctors in connection with my hootnanny was still very sketchy.)
He said "Yes, Dee name Suman, stays in my mind."

I sat arrow straight listening to all his advice. I committed to memory all of the do's and do-nots for a healthy wonderful pregnancy. Only eat raw veggies if they can be peeled. (etc...etc)

He smiled and said "Ok, let's see this person we have been talking about."

I stepped into the phone booth sized dressing room and shimmied out of my jeans.

He said "I think you must know our chair by now." 

"The CHAIR" can be overwhelming at first, but now, I'm an old-hand at sitting in it and being reclined and lifted for optimum hootnanny viewing.

I said "Yes, I remember the chair... from seeing your wife."

In just a few minutes there we were, looking at the life inside of me. 

He was smiling as he said "See dee little fast fluttering that looks like buttahfly wings?"

I nodded "Yes."
He said "Dat is ya baby's heart beating."
I said "REALLY?" 

He nodded.
I started crying from sheer excitement. I said "Oh, I'm so sorry for the tears." (I still was unsure of german culture and open crying.)

He said "You are seeing life inside you, is ok to cry. This is your time to cry."
I said "I worry about everything."
The doctor said "You have done your job. You made a nice home inside you for dee baby. Now, is in His Hands. God is in charge." as he pointed to the sky.

I smiled and nodded.
Then the doctor printed the very first picture of my little blueberry shaped baby.

I held it with pride. Like nothing Olan Mills could produce could be prettier. 

I got congratulations from the front desk as they worked on getting my blood samples. My little photo sitting on my purse so not to get folded bent or ruined in any way. I kept thinking "I cannot wait for Michael to see our baby! 

I almost skipped back to the city bus. I smiled at every baby carriage that strolled by.  I wanted to hold up the photo for everyone to see.

I went home and waited for the next 3 weeks to pass, until my next appointment just to see my baby again.  Who cares about the bloodwork? I want to see what's going on in there. I had the most bizarre dreams, and food cravings that changed to nausea in the blink of an eye. 

I lounged on the sofa like a slug, sipping ginger ale, and praying to NOT throw up, praying TO throw up, and buying 7 different kinds of toothpaste, in the frantic search for one that would NOT make me gag.

I cold-turkey quit coffee, and my beloved diet coke with lime.

I became obsessed with plastics and their recycling numbers.

I bought a Natursutten Pacifier to protect my baby from BPA, and other chemicals.

I bought an Aden and Anais blanket for whoever it was growing inside of there.

My second doctor's appointment came. I was so excited. I rode the bus downtown smiling at the world. I was en route to see my baby. Which, I learned from babycenter, was now the size of a plum. That's a big jump from blueberry.

My favorite front desk nurse greeted me "Mrs. Suman! How are you? Did ya bring dee mutter book with you today?" (A mother's book, is basically a little book that a pregnant woman in Germany takes with her EVERYWHERE. It has all the important info in it. Dr. Rosin explained to me that it was AS important as my passport.)
I smiled "No, I am supposed to get it today."
She nodded "oh yes." 

Then she weighed me, and took my blood pressure. She informed me that she will "Erase One Kilo  for shoes and clothes. Every visit." I had lost weight from being sick, so erasing 1 kilo wasn't a concern for me at that moment.

I sat and waited for my appointment. I looked at the baby magazine they had in the waiting nook. Smiling at every baby.
Dr. Rosin called "Mrs. Suman?"  I stood up, and saw him with his last patient. He was tickling the belly of her tiny baby boy in his little carrier. The doctor  saw me and smiled.
I sat in the consult chair by his desk, as he told me everything I was immune to, what I was not immune to. He instructed me not to clean any cat "toilets" because I am NOT immune to Toxoplasmosis. (Which is bizarre since I've been around cats my entire life.)

Then he said "Let's look at the baby, now."

There I was in the chair again. I was watching the projection on the wall. I started getting nervous. I saw no fast heartbeat fluttering. I thought "He'll find it." I glanced at my Doctor, who was sitting there staring hard at his computer screen. My heart fell. Completely fell.

He looked sick.

I could see the wheels turning in his head...wondering how to tell me the bad news.

Finally, He pressed his lips together, and then said "I'm so sorry...the baby is not..."

And I have no idea what he said after that. 

I burst into tears.

He rubbed my leg and turned off the picture.

Then he came and sat beside me as the tears fell hard and fast. 

I said "I waited...so long for this...." I was crying so hard the chair shook. I said "Is it something I did?" and I looked at him.

He had tears. He was crying with me. He said "No. No Mrs. Suman. You did nothing wrong."
I said, and I'm not sure why I felt he should know, "I'm alone. My husband is deployed."

I asked what I needed to do. He told me I had to have a D&C.

"Will you be the one to do it, please?" I asked through tears.

He said that he would. That it would have to be on Sunday at the Klinikum, since that is when he was on call. (I knew I wanted no other person to remove the baby from me. I couldn't STAND the idea of a doctor who doesn't know me to do the surgery.)

He handed me tissues, then I asked to get dressed again.

The doctor allowed me to sit in his office and cry as long as I needed to.

When the doctor opened his office door to walk me to the desk, the nurse who erased one kilo from my weight saw me from across the way. 

Her face fell. She said "Oh. God. No. No. It can't be." and she ran to me. 

She threw her arms around me.

I cried all the way to the bus stop.

I cried on the bus ride home. 

An elderly gentleman got up and hugged me. Shaky with his cane, he put his arms around me. He had no idea the reason behind my tears. He just knew I needed that hug.

I cried from the bus stop to home.

When I got on the sidewalk right outside our apartment, I thought "Who am I rushing home for? There is no one there."

Once I got inside, I closed the door behind me, and slid down the back of the door sobbing. Earth shaking sobs that I didn't know existed inside of me. 

I contacted Michael's First Sgt. to let her know, in hopes that maybe Micheal could call me.

I never expected they would work so hard and fast to bring him home for the procedure. 

But they did just that.