Three beloved angels
Gone too soon,
To you I had to say goodbye
Before I could even say hi,
Mama’s heart fills with sorrow
Your sweet love I'll never know.
All my life I’ll wonder
How each of you would have been ...
Are you like your papa?
Loving and tender,
He makes my heart sing.
Or maybe like your Ate?
Love of my life,
Happiness she bring.
The sound of your pealing laughter
I will never hear.
The warm sweetness of your kiss
I'll forever miss.
I take comfort knowing
In heaven you’re in God’s holy grace
I will smile at you thinking
In Mama Mary’s sweet embrace.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
My sweet angels I’ll always do.
And when Mama’s time on earth is over,
In heaven’s gate I know you’ll wait.
Then at last I'll see you my babies!
And hold you ...
I will never let go.
May 9, 2006
May 4, 2008
January 19, 2010
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Friday, January 15, 2010
Thursday, July 31, 2008
On Joy and Sorrow
Written May 1, 2008
These past few weeks, my heart was filled with a quite joy I shared only with those nearest and dearest to me. That which I have been longing and praying for has finally been granted. I was going to have another baby.
I started to dream for this baby again, just I dreamed for my little Maia, another baby I lost two years ago.
But my dreams were quickly shattered when at almost nine weeks, we learned that I lost this little one too. The depths of my sorrow could be equaled only by the heights of my joy as I happily anticipated holding another baby in my arms.
Early embryonic demise. No cardiac activity. These words appeared in the ultrasound report. But I did not have to read it to know. Watching the face of the doctor who did the ultrasound told me everything there was to know. My heart went cold. I could only cry for another baby I will never come to know and love … another baby who would have completed our little family even more.
What followed was a blur of indecision, of me adamantly refusing to take the drugs to induce the expulsion of my baby from inside me, of refusing to consider a D&C, of wanting the process of losing this child to take its natural course … to accepting the drugs when a follow-up ultrasound confirmed my loss, to wanting a D&C and then not wanting it … and finally, to admitting that the waiting was taking too much toll on me and my family … that emotionally, spiritually, physically and psychologically, I am drained to the core of my being.
I am having my second miscarriage as I am writing. I started bleeding as cramps wracked my body last night. This came as a welcome relief to my weary soul.
I was on denial when I had my first miscarriage. I refused to accept my baby’s death even though pain tore through my body day after day. I fought hard by imploring God to give life to my child. As long as I had hope in my heart, I refused to let go. I was willing to do whatever it took if it meant life for my little one. But as fate would have it, my baby and I lost that battle.
This time around, I put up no fight at all. Maybe the past made me more resigned, more accepting of the undeniable fact that losing a child, one that seemed so improbable and so incomprehensible before, has become a recurrent reality in my life.
But while I accepted my third baby’s death, I still refused, and continue to do so up till now, to have a D&C. Only when the choice is taken out of my hands will I submit to that procedure.
But while I still have that choice, I choose for my little one to leave me as God had intended. I want to wait for nature to take its course. But without medical intervention, I realized that the waiting could take so long. And it started to take its toll. Everything in me grew weary from being suspended in a state where I was neither here nor there … where my body felt pregnant yet with no growing life within it … where I grieved and not grieve at the same time. Finally, all that I ever wanted was to reach closure, to be able to move on and open myself up to my family again.
So I finally sought medical aid. I took the medication that would induce the expulsion process. When the cramps came, I welcomed them with relief. There is no use holding on when there is nothing more to hold on to.
I have been asked why I did not want a D&C. I said that going into surgery scared me and that I did not want to expose myself to the risks accompanying this procedure.
But I have been less than honest with these answers. While I do feel this way about D&C, the real reason behind this refusal is my desire for privacy and dignity, for wanting this miscarriage to happen just between me and my child, not in a roomful of strangers where my baby will be referred to as tissue or product of conception and handled in much the same way as medical personnel would handle a surgically-removed appendix or cyst. So cold. So distant and uncaring. So professional. I do not want my baby to leave me that way.
When my baby will finally leave, I want nobody else except me touching it … where it will be held with love, tenderness and great respect.
With Mama alone, this baby will be spared from becoming the subject of cruel jokes by dispassionate medical workers. The first baby I lost suffered that fate. Cheerful lab workers, oblivious to my pain, talked about urinating on the cup containing my poor little one right in my presence.
That is not going to happen this time. This baby will be spared from that kind of indignity and disrespect. This time, my child will receive nothing but all the love and respect it deserves as another one of God’s creations.
These past few weeks, my heart was filled with a quite joy I shared only with those nearest and dearest to me. That which I have been longing and praying for has finally been granted. I was going to have another baby.
I started to dream for this baby again, just I dreamed for my little Maia, another baby I lost two years ago.
But my dreams were quickly shattered when at almost nine weeks, we learned that I lost this little one too. The depths of my sorrow could be equaled only by the heights of my joy as I happily anticipated holding another baby in my arms.
Early embryonic demise. No cardiac activity. These words appeared in the ultrasound report. But I did not have to read it to know. Watching the face of the doctor who did the ultrasound told me everything there was to know. My heart went cold. I could only cry for another baby I will never come to know and love … another baby who would have completed our little family even more.
What followed was a blur of indecision, of me adamantly refusing to take the drugs to induce the expulsion of my baby from inside me, of refusing to consider a D&C, of wanting the process of losing this child to take its natural course … to accepting the drugs when a follow-up ultrasound confirmed my loss, to wanting a D&C and then not wanting it … and finally, to admitting that the waiting was taking too much toll on me and my family … that emotionally, spiritually, physically and psychologically, I am drained to the core of my being.
I am having my second miscarriage as I am writing. I started bleeding as cramps wracked my body last night. This came as a welcome relief to my weary soul.
I was on denial when I had my first miscarriage. I refused to accept my baby’s death even though pain tore through my body day after day. I fought hard by imploring God to give life to my child. As long as I had hope in my heart, I refused to let go. I was willing to do whatever it took if it meant life for my little one. But as fate would have it, my baby and I lost that battle.
This time around, I put up no fight at all. Maybe the past made me more resigned, more accepting of the undeniable fact that losing a child, one that seemed so improbable and so incomprehensible before, has become a recurrent reality in my life.
But while I accepted my third baby’s death, I still refused, and continue to do so up till now, to have a D&C. Only when the choice is taken out of my hands will I submit to that procedure.
But while I still have that choice, I choose for my little one to leave me as God had intended. I want to wait for nature to take its course. But without medical intervention, I realized that the waiting could take so long. And it started to take its toll. Everything in me grew weary from being suspended in a state where I was neither here nor there … where my body felt pregnant yet with no growing life within it … where I grieved and not grieve at the same time. Finally, all that I ever wanted was to reach closure, to be able to move on and open myself up to my family again.
So I finally sought medical aid. I took the medication that would induce the expulsion process. When the cramps came, I welcomed them with relief. There is no use holding on when there is nothing more to hold on to.
I have been asked why I did not want a D&C. I said that going into surgery scared me and that I did not want to expose myself to the risks accompanying this procedure.
But I have been less than honest with these answers. While I do feel this way about D&C, the real reason behind this refusal is my desire for privacy and dignity, for wanting this miscarriage to happen just between me and my child, not in a roomful of strangers where my baby will be referred to as tissue or product of conception and handled in much the same way as medical personnel would handle a surgically-removed appendix or cyst. So cold. So distant and uncaring. So professional. I do not want my baby to leave me that way.
When my baby will finally leave, I want nobody else except me touching it … where it will be held with love, tenderness and great respect.
With Mama alone, this baby will be spared from becoming the subject of cruel jokes by dispassionate medical workers. The first baby I lost suffered that fate. Cheerful lab workers, oblivious to my pain, talked about urinating on the cup containing my poor little one right in my presence.
That is not going to happen this time. This baby will be spared from that kind of indignity and disrespect. This time, my child will receive nothing but all the love and respect it deserves as another one of God’s creations.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Finding Kindred Spirits
Today, I posted the following in the message board of The Baby Center dealing with the topic: First Pregnancy, Ending in Miscarriage.
Hello everyone, first of all, may I say how sorry I am for your loss and for the pain that all of you had to go through. I know exactly how you felt when you lost your baby because I had been through that myself.
Although my miscarriage was not my first pregnancy, I too lost my baby in my 8th week. I mourned my loss deeply because I wanted that baby very badly. You see, I have polycystic ovaries syndrome. I was able to have my first child only through the grace of God and the aid of this wonderful drug called gonal-f.
My husband and I tried to have another child last December 2005. This time, I had puregon. I went through two rounds of artificial insemination but both attempts failed. We soon gave up because of financial constraints. Here in the Philippines, fertility treatments are very expensive.
I gave up hope of ever conceiving by natural means. but unexpectedly, I found out that I was pregnant by April 2006. My joy cannot be described especially because it was a spontaneous pregnancy, a miracle that came into our lives when we least expected it!
I started spotting soon after my discovery. I was devastated. I did what I could to save my baby. I went into full bed rest and begged my doctor for whatever medicine there was that would somehow keep my baby alive in case I was losing it.
Several ultrasound examinations revealed no heartbeat. They could not even find the gestational sac. But I insisted that I was pregnant because my pregnancy tests said so!!! I think people thought I was crazy then ... but when you are somebody who wanted another child I much as I did, I think you would understand how I felt then. I even had a name in case my baby would be a girl, Maia.
I finally had my miscarriage May 9, 2006. As doctors would put it, the "product of conception" was "expelled". My pain was overwhelming. My husband was not with me then. He was abroad at that time. I had nobody to comfort me. And I was filled with guilt. Somehow, I could not help asking if somehow, it had been my fault that my baby died.
I took my little one to a clinical laboratory for examination, to try to determine what the cause of my loss was. My baby, whom they coldly referred to as "specimen", was placed in a plastic cup before it was taken from me.
The technician who was holding the cup then jokingly handed it to another lab worker and jokingly told him ... " here, you urinate in this". He said that right in my presence.
I cannot even begin to describe to you the pain and the hurt that i went through that day. Here I was mourning the loss of a child that I wanted to have with all my heart ... and hearing somebody callously make my dead baby the butt of his joke by having it urinated upon was excruciating. It was utterly cruel at its best.
The lab report stated I had an early pregnancy failure ... that only the placenta developed, but no baby. The general attitude I encountered here in my home city was like ... what was the big deal? There was never any baby after all, so why all this fuss?
I don't care whether a baby developed or not at all. In my mind and in my heart, I had a child that was not meant for me. Last December 2006, I had a chance to visit one of our hospital's nursery. I dropped by intending to enjoy the sight of beautiful babies only to end up crying my heart out because I could not help thinking that my own baby should have been there as well. If I had not lost my little one, I would have given birth on December 24. Today, I would have had bouncing and crawling 7-month old. I still ache. There are times when the pain is not as raw, but times like this, my pain is as great as on that unforgettable day.
I am glad that i stumbled into this site and read of your posts. I am glad that I have found kindred spirits in you. I dont feel so alone anymore. I've corresponded with other parents who have lost their children, but I could feel that they could not empathize with me totally because my loss is not an tangible as theirs. They had real babies they have held in their arms. I only have my failed expectations.
For a while, i thought that I should stop feeling this way because I did not lose a real baby anyway, as some have pointed out to me. But I continue to feel the pain. I am glad that there are others out there who feel the same way I do. thank you for sharing a bit of yourselves with the rest of us.
Hello everyone, first of all, may I say how sorry I am for your loss and for the pain that all of you had to go through. I know exactly how you felt when you lost your baby because I had been through that myself.
Although my miscarriage was not my first pregnancy, I too lost my baby in my 8th week. I mourned my loss deeply because I wanted that baby very badly. You see, I have polycystic ovaries syndrome. I was able to have my first child only through the grace of God and the aid of this wonderful drug called gonal-f.
My husband and I tried to have another child last December 2005. This time, I had puregon. I went through two rounds of artificial insemination but both attempts failed. We soon gave up because of financial constraints. Here in the Philippines, fertility treatments are very expensive.
I gave up hope of ever conceiving by natural means. but unexpectedly, I found out that I was pregnant by April 2006. My joy cannot be described especially because it was a spontaneous pregnancy, a miracle that came into our lives when we least expected it!
I started spotting soon after my discovery. I was devastated. I did what I could to save my baby. I went into full bed rest and begged my doctor for whatever medicine there was that would somehow keep my baby alive in case I was losing it.
Several ultrasound examinations revealed no heartbeat. They could not even find the gestational sac. But I insisted that I was pregnant because my pregnancy tests said so!!! I think people thought I was crazy then ... but when you are somebody who wanted another child I much as I did, I think you would understand how I felt then. I even had a name in case my baby would be a girl, Maia.
My finally had my miscarriage May 9, 2006. As doctors would put it, the "product of conception" was "expelled". My pain was overwhelming. My husband was not with me then. He was abroad at that time. I had nobody to comfort me. And I was filled with guilt. Somehow, I could not help asking if somehow, it had been my fault that my baby died.
I took my little one to a clinical laboratory for examination, to try to determine what the cause of my loss was. My baby, whom they coldly referred to as "specimen", was placed in a plastic cup before it was taken from me.
The technician who was holding the cup then jokingly handed it to another lab worker and jokingly told him ... " here, you urinate in this". He said that right in my presence.
I cannot even begin to describe to you the pain and the hurt that i went through that day. Here I was mourning the loss of a child that I wanted to have with all my heart ... and hearing somebody callously make my dead baby the butt of his joke by having it urinated upon was excruciating. It was utterly cruel at its best.
The lab report stated I had an early pregnancy failure ... that only the placenta developed, but no baby. The general attitude I encountered here in my home city was like ... what was the big deal? There was never any baby after all, so why all this fuss?
I don't care whether a baby developed or not at all. In my mind and in my heart, I had a child that was not meant for me. Last December 2006, I had a chance to visit one of our hospital's nursery. I dropped by intending to enjoy the sight of beautiful babies only to end up crying my heart out because I could not help thinking that my own baby should have been there as well. If I had not lost my little one, I would have given birth on December 24. Today, I would have had bouncing and crawling 7-month old. I still ache. There are times when the pain is not as raw, but times like this, my pain is as great as on that unforgettable day.
I am glad that i stumbled into this site and read of your posts. I am glad that I have found kindred spirits in you. I dont feel so alone anymore. I've corresponded with other parents who have lost their children, but I could feel that they could not empathize with me totally because my loss is not an tangible as theirs. They had real babies they have held in their arms. I only have my failed expectations.
For a while, i thought that I should stop feeling this way because I did not lose a real baby anyway, as some have pointed out to me. But I continue to feel the pain. I am glad that there are others out there who feel the same way I do. thank you for sharing a bit of yourselves with the rest of us.
Hello everyone, first of all, may I say how sorry I am for your loss and for the pain that all of you had to go through. I know exactly how you felt when you lost your baby because I had been through that myself.
Although my miscarriage was not my first pregnancy, I too lost my baby in my 8th week. I mourned my loss deeply because I wanted that baby very badly. You see, I have polycystic ovaries syndrome. I was able to have my first child only through the grace of God and the aid of this wonderful drug called gonal-f.
My husband and I tried to have another child last December 2005. This time, I had puregon. I went through two rounds of artificial insemination but both attempts failed. We soon gave up because of financial constraints. Here in the Philippines, fertility treatments are very expensive.
I gave up hope of ever conceiving by natural means. but unexpectedly, I found out that I was pregnant by April 2006. My joy cannot be described especially because it was a spontaneous pregnancy, a miracle that came into our lives when we least expected it!
I started spotting soon after my discovery. I was devastated. I did what I could to save my baby. I went into full bed rest and begged my doctor for whatever medicine there was that would somehow keep my baby alive in case I was losing it.
Several ultrasound examinations revealed no heartbeat. They could not even find the gestational sac. But I insisted that I was pregnant because my pregnancy tests said so!!! I think people thought I was crazy then ... but when you are somebody who wanted another child I much as I did, I think you would understand how I felt then. I even had a name in case my baby would be a girl, Maia.
I finally had my miscarriage May 9, 2006. As doctors would put it, the "product of conception" was "expelled". My pain was overwhelming. My husband was not with me then. He was abroad at that time. I had nobody to comfort me. And I was filled with guilt. Somehow, I could not help asking if somehow, it had been my fault that my baby died.
I took my little one to a clinical laboratory for examination, to try to determine what the cause of my loss was. My baby, whom they coldly referred to as "specimen", was placed in a plastic cup before it was taken from me.
The technician who was holding the cup then jokingly handed it to another lab worker and jokingly told him ... " here, you urinate in this". He said that right in my presence.
I cannot even begin to describe to you the pain and the hurt that i went through that day. Here I was mourning the loss of a child that I wanted to have with all my heart ... and hearing somebody callously make my dead baby the butt of his joke by having it urinated upon was excruciating. It was utterly cruel at its best.
The lab report stated I had an early pregnancy failure ... that only the placenta developed, but no baby. The general attitude I encountered here in my home city was like ... what was the big deal? There was never any baby after all, so why all this fuss?
I don't care whether a baby developed or not at all. In my mind and in my heart, I had a child that was not meant for me. Last December 2006, I had a chance to visit one of our hospital's nursery. I dropped by intending to enjoy the sight of beautiful babies only to end up crying my heart out because I could not help thinking that my own baby should have been there as well. If I had not lost my little one, I would have given birth on December 24. Today, I would have had bouncing and crawling 7-month old. I still ache. There are times when the pain is not as raw, but times like this, my pain is as great as on that unforgettable day.
I am glad that i stumbled into this site and read of your posts. I am glad that I have found kindred spirits in you. I dont feel so alone anymore. I've corresponded with other parents who have lost their children, but I could feel that they could not empathize with me totally because my loss is not an tangible as theirs. They had real babies they have held in their arms. I only have my failed expectations.
For a while, i thought that I should stop feeling this way because I did not lose a real baby anyway, as some have pointed out to me. But I continue to feel the pain. I am glad that there are others out there who feel the same way I do. thank you for sharing a bit of yourselves with the rest of us.
Hello everyone, first of all, may I say how sorry I am for your loss and for the pain that all of you had to go through. I know exactly how you felt when you lost your baby because I had been through that myself.
Although my miscarriage was not my first pregnancy, I too lost my baby in my 8th week. I mourned my loss deeply because I wanted that baby very badly. You see, I have polycystic ovaries syndrome. I was able to have my first child only through the grace of God and the aid of this wonderful drug called gonal-f.
My husband and I tried to have another child last December 2005. This time, I had puregon. I went through two rounds of artificial insemination but both attempts failed. We soon gave up because of financial constraints. Here in the Philippines, fertility treatments are very expensive.
I gave up hope of ever conceiving by natural means. but unexpectedly, I found out that I was pregnant by April 2006. My joy cannot be described especially because it was a spontaneous pregnancy, a miracle that came into our lives when we least expected it!
I started spotting soon after my discovery. I was devastated. I did what I could to save my baby. I went into full bed rest and begged my doctor for whatever medicine there was that would somehow keep my baby alive in case I was losing it.
Several ultrasound examinations revealed no heartbeat. They could not even find the gestational sac. But I insisted that I was pregnant because my pregnancy tests said so!!! I think people thought I was crazy then ... but when you are somebody who wanted another child I much as I did, I think you would understand how I felt then. I even had a name in case my baby would be a girl, Maia.
My finally had my miscarriage May 9, 2006. As doctors would put it, the "product of conception" was "expelled". My pain was overwhelming. My husband was not with me then. He was abroad at that time. I had nobody to comfort me. And I was filled with guilt. Somehow, I could not help asking if somehow, it had been my fault that my baby died.
I took my little one to a clinical laboratory for examination, to try to determine what the cause of my loss was. My baby, whom they coldly referred to as "specimen", was placed in a plastic cup before it was taken from me.
The technician who was holding the cup then jokingly handed it to another lab worker and jokingly told him ... " here, you urinate in this". He said that right in my presence.
I cannot even begin to describe to you the pain and the hurt that i went through that day. Here I was mourning the loss of a child that I wanted to have with all my heart ... and hearing somebody callously make my dead baby the butt of his joke by having it urinated upon was excruciating. It was utterly cruel at its best.
The lab report stated I had an early pregnancy failure ... that only the placenta developed, but no baby. The general attitude I encountered here in my home city was like ... what was the big deal? There was never any baby after all, so why all this fuss?
I don't care whether a baby developed or not at all. In my mind and in my heart, I had a child that was not meant for me. Last December 2006, I had a chance to visit one of our hospital's nursery. I dropped by intending to enjoy the sight of beautiful babies only to end up crying my heart out because I could not help thinking that my own baby should have been there as well. If I had not lost my little one, I would have given birth on December 24. Today, I would have had bouncing and crawling 7-month old. I still ache. There are times when the pain is not as raw, but times like this, my pain is as great as on that unforgettable day.
I am glad that i stumbled into this site and read of your posts. I am glad that I have found kindred spirits in you. I dont feel so alone anymore. I've corresponded with other parents who have lost their children, but I could feel that they could not empathize with me totally because my loss is not an tangible as theirs. They had real babies they have held in their arms. I only have my failed expectations.
For a while, i thought that I should stop feeling this way because I did not lose a real baby anyway, as some have pointed out to me. But I continue to feel the pain. I am glad that there are others out there who feel the same way I do. thank you for sharing a bit of yourselves with the rest of us.
What is Blighted Ovum?
I started asking this question seriously when fellow blogger ROBERT sent me a link to the Priests for Life website that showed IMAGES OF FETAL DEVELOPMENT.The picture to the right shows a 7-week old embryo, a week short of the stage my own baby was supposed to be in when I lost her. Another picture below shows an 8-week old embryo. My own Maia would have looked like this one when I lost her.
But this is really nothing but pure fantasy on my part. I was informed that I had an Anembryonic Pregnancy or what most probaby know as blighted ovum.
I had a rough idea then what a blighted ovum was. It meant that my baby stopped developing shortly after fertilization, or that she never started developing at all. I never had a baby that looked like these embryos in the pictures.
But it does not really matter to me. I believe in my heart, whether rightly or wrongly, that God breathed life into each one of us at the moment of conception. From that moment on, each child, no matter how briefly it had lived, had a soul, and this soul went up to heaven to be reunited with its Maker.
Oh yes! I had a second baby, and this baby is now an angel in heaven. Even if she lived for only a fraction of a second, what matters to me is that she had started living. Everything else is immaterial.
Seeing these pictures of these beautiful creatures of God made me want to learn more about blighted ova. This was what I learned:
"What is a blighted ovum?A blighted ovum (also known as “anembryonic pregnancy”) happens when a fertilized egg attaches itself to the uterine wall, but the embryo does not develop or stopped developing shortly after fertilization.
Cells develop to form the pregnancy sac, but not the embryo itself. A blighted ovum usually occurs within the first trimester before a woman knows she is pregnant. A high level of chromosome abnormalities usually causes a woman’s body to naturally miscarry.
How do I know if I am having or have had a blighted ovum?
A blighted ovum can occur very early in pregnancy, before most women even know that they are pregnant. You may experience signs of pregnancy such as a missed or late menstrual period and even a positive pregnancy test. It is possible that you may have minor abdominal cramps, minor vaginal spotting or bleeding. As with a normal period, your body may flush the uterine lining, but your period may be a little heavier than usual.
Many women assume their pregnancies are on track because their hCG levels are increasing. The placenta can continue to grow and support itself without a baby for a short time, and pregnancy hormones can continue to rise, which would lead a woman to believe she is still pregnant. A diagnosis is usually not made until an ultrasound test shows either an empty womb or an empty birth sac.
What causes a blighted ovum?
A blighted ovum is the cause of about 50% of first trimester miscarriages and is usually the result of chromosomal problems. A woman’s body recognizes abnormal chromosomes in a fetus and naturally does not try to continue the pregnancy because the fetus will not develop into a normal, healthy baby. This can be caused by abnormal cell division, or poor quality sperm or egg.
Should I have a D&C or wait for a natural miscarriage?
This is a decision only you can make for yourself. Most doctors do not recommend a D&C for an early pregnancy loss. It is believed that a woman’s body is capable of passing tissue on its own and there is no need for an invasive surgical procedure with a risk of complications. A D&C would, however, be beneficial if you were planning on having a pathologist examine the tissues to determine a reason for the miscarriage. Some women feel a D&C procedure helps with closure, mentally and physically.
How can a blighted ovum be prevented?
Unfortunately, in most cases a blighted ovum cannot be prevented. Some couples will seek out genetic testing if multiple early pregnancy loss occurs. A blighted ovum is often a one time occurrence, and rarely will a woman experience more than one. Most doctors recommend couples wait at least 1-3 regular menstrual cycles before trying to conceive again after any type of miscarriage. "
My interest on this subject lead me to the website of the Baby Center where bulletin boards were started dealing with the topic: MISCARRIAGE, STILLBIRTH, AND INFANT LOSS.
Finding this board was heaven sent. I do not feel so alone anymore. I finally found other moms who felt and thought and grieved for lost babies the same way I did.
For a while, I actually considered myself as some sort of freak because nobody at home could fully empathize with my loss. It was not a tangible loss, as they said. It was not as if I've actually held the baby in my arms.
Some people here actually think that they become parents only at the moment of birth. They do not realize that parenthood starts at the exact moment of conception.
They could not understand that I loved my baby from the first moment I knew that I had her. I started thinking of names for her, I wanted her to be another girl, I planned where and when she would start attending school ... I already had dreams for my baby!
Naming her and thinking of her as a girl and talking of my angel in heaven were even considered by some as some sort of sentimental b/s. Even my husband could not fully understand me.
But the mothers in the bulletin boards understand me perfectly. They have been through the same experience. Some are still going through it. I read of mothers' stories about losing their babies at 5th, 6th, or 7th week ... and they grieve just like any mother would for a baby that she has actually held in her arms.
Nobody there reading my sentiments will think of me as some sentimental, over-acting, attention-grabbing loser who is making a big deal out of something that some people would probably consider as an inconsequential, everyday, no-event occurrence. They understand grief and loss as only people who have been through the same pain could.
My daughter Abby also knew exactly what was going on. When I had my miscarriage and subsequent to that, my UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER with the lab technician who joked at having my dead baby urinated upon, her little heart got broken along with mine.
When the lab tech sent me a card saying how sorry he was for causing me more pain, she sent him back a LETTER him that he should say sorry to her little sister as well, because he also hurt her feelings. She even drew a curled up little figure (much like how 8-week old embryos look like in her book) with a halo and tiny angel wings.
Until now, she still wonders aloud what her little sister could be doing in heaven. She likes to think that she is happily doing anything and everything that she'd like to do, like eat ice cream all day long.
For a while, I struggled with the question WHY? Why did God give me great unexpected joy only to take it back so soon? Although I still ache every now and then (like when I'd see pregnant mothers or babies), I finally found peace in my heart by accepting that there is a reason for everything, that God has a grand plan for all of us, and that everything that happens to each one of us is part of that big puzzle, and that maybe, in the end, we will be privileged enough to know what that purpose or reason is.
Friday, June 16, 2006
"No act of kindness, however small, is ever wasted."
For every pain that we much bear,
For every burden, every care,
There is a reason.
For every grief, that bows the head,
For every tear drop that is shed,
There is a reason.
For every hurt, for every plight,
For every lonely, pain-wracked night
There is a reason.
BUT IF WE TRUST GOD, AS WE SHOULD,
IT WILL WORK OUT FOR OUR GOOD,
For every burden, every care,
There is a reason.
For every grief, that bows the head,
For every tear drop that is shed,
There is a reason.
For every hurt, for every plight,
For every lonely, pain-wracked night
There is a reason.
BUT IF WE TRUST GOD, AS WE SHOULD,
IT WILL WORK OUT FOR OUR GOOD,
For only GOD knows the reason.
I held on to the message of this poem as a grappled with the loss of my much prayed-for child. It gave me considerable comfort to hold on to God’s infinite wisdom, believing that beyond my pain lies something bigger than myself and my loss ..... something good, no matter how small, that can be brought to light only through my suffering.
I believe that we have all been given life for a purpose, and that each little thing that occurs in our lives is a minuscule piece that has its own specific place in a grand scheme being orchestrated by the Lord Almighty.
For a while, I became too immersed in my own grief, I almost started believing I had the monopoly of pain in this world. I almost forgot that there are others out there who are hurting just as much, if not more, than I did. But I came out from that selfish state when I read about the struggle being fought by one very brave lady. She is Muffet Dolar-Villegas, and she writes about her ongoing struggle with cancer in the Negros Chronicle.
Sensing another human in pain and seeing how she also held on to God to ease her suffering, I felt the need to reach out to her, share the poem, hoping that like me, she would find the same comfort that it brings.
She wrote back to me. And she also published my letter in her column. I am greatly honored. I am also humbled. I never knew how my small act could touch someone so deeply.
Mrs. Villegas caught my attention because of her courage. I respect and admire her. She is my model for her unshakable faith in God. The immensity and depth of her faith stayed true amidst the turmoil and uncertainty that surrounds her everyday.
But even the strongest can falter when buffeted by the tempestuous winds that life sometimes brings.
Behind her strength, I sensed a bewildered soul who, despite her convictions, may have at times found herself asking the question, “why me God?”
I had hoped that the poem would lead her to an answer, however incomplete it may be. And it did. It is indeed true that no act of kindness, however small, is ever wasted.
At this point in my life, I am coping with my loss by not focusing too much on my own woes, but rather, by looking at it from a larger perspective. I have resolved never to lose touch with the fact that no matter how big my hurt may seem to me, somebody out there is hurting more. Others have made it through and have found their “new normal” lives, but more may still be going through with their struggles.
Maybe, God placed me at this point in my life so that whenever I would see somebody who is pain, I could empathize with that person, and not just sympathize.
Maybe that is the reason why my little bird never got her chance to fly in this earth.
I believe that we have all been given life for a purpose, and that each little thing that occurs in our lives is a minuscule piece that has its own specific place in a grand scheme being orchestrated by the Lord Almighty.
For a while, I became too immersed in my own grief, I almost started believing I had the monopoly of pain in this world. I almost forgot that there are others out there who are hurting just as much, if not more, than I did. But I came out from that selfish state when I read about the struggle being fought by one very brave lady. She is Muffet Dolar-Villegas, and she writes about her ongoing struggle with cancer in the Negros Chronicle.
Sensing another human in pain and seeing how she also held on to God to ease her suffering, I felt the need to reach out to her, share the poem, hoping that like me, she would find the same comfort that it brings.
She wrote back to me. And she also published my letter in her column. I am greatly honored. I am also humbled. I never knew how my small act could touch someone so deeply.
Mrs. Villegas caught my attention because of her courage. I respect and admire her. She is my model for her unshakable faith in God. The immensity and depth of her faith stayed true amidst the turmoil and uncertainty that surrounds her everyday.
But even the strongest can falter when buffeted by the tempestuous winds that life sometimes brings.
Behind her strength, I sensed a bewildered soul who, despite her convictions, may have at times found herself asking the question, “why me God?”
I had hoped that the poem would lead her to an answer, however incomplete it may be. And it did. It is indeed true that no act of kindness, however small, is ever wasted.
At this point in my life, I am coping with my loss by not focusing too much on my own woes, but rather, by looking at it from a larger perspective. I have resolved never to lose touch with the fact that no matter how big my hurt may seem to me, somebody out there is hurting more. Others have made it through and have found their “new normal” lives, but more may still be going through with their struggles.
Maybe, God placed me at this point in my life so that whenever I would see somebody who is pain, I could empathize with that person, and not just sympathize.
Maybe that is the reason why my little bird never got her chance to fly in this earth.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
"I have a sister already ... she is an ANGEL now! And that makes me the most powerful girl in my school!"
This is Abby. She is six years old. She told me yesterday was the best day of her life because she became "Grade 1". When she entered her new classroom for the first time yesterday, she exclaimed ... "I love being in grade 1!"
Most of her classmates in preschool, including Abby, are firstborns. In their 3 years together, baby sisters or brothers were born to most of them ... almost everyone either became an "ate" (big sister) or "kuya" (big brother), except Abby. She kept lamenting, "I'll never be an ate ... ".
When we lost MAIA, Abby came to terms with our loss by explaining it away in her own simple, innocent way. She said, "maybe God really wanted me to have a baby sister, but He made a mistake and sent us a baby brother instead, that's why He took our baby back." I told her that God never makes mistakes. He sent us a baby girl, but then, He wanted her in heaven with Him, that's why she had to go back.
We think of Maia as an embryo. We do not have an image of her as a baby. But Abby and I believe that she will continue to grow up in heaven as time passes. She will have her first birthday there. She will also grow her first tooth in heaven. In her evening prayers, Abby keeps praying to Mama Mary... "please let Maia grow some teeth".
A few days ago, she said to me, "I am the most powerful ATE in my school."
I asked her why.
"I am the only girl with a sister who is an ANGEL IN HEAVEN."
"Say Sorry to Maia too."
"Dear Kuya Dexter. I think you should say you're sorry to Little Maia too. You hurt her feelings. From Abby Uy."
Abby wrote this a few days after we lost Maia. Dexter Dy, the medtech who uttered those hurtful words on our baby, sent a card asking me for forgiveness. I readily forgave him seeing how sincerely remorseful he was for adding to my pain.
Abby read the card. Her letter shows us exactly how she felt about his apology.
She has a book which shows a 6-week old embryo. Her drawing reflects that image, but she added the smile, the halo, and the angel wings.
Changes at SUMCFI ... am I seeing the beginnings of my "greater purpose"?
This was addressed to Noemi Lardizabal-Dado, Co-Founder of the Compassionate Friends Philippines, a grief support group for the newly-bereaved:
I was happy you mentioned the medical professionals' lack of training in handling grief during the interview. YOu were right, Cheche Lazaro was a great host. By the way, can we get Fallen Cradle from National Bookstore? I am sure we cannot find it in Dumaguete but if I should get the chance to visit Cebu, I will certainly drop by National to get a copy.
I saw my OB-Gyne yesterday. She's a formidable lady and she agrees with my observations regarding the lack of training of the employees of Silliman Medical Center. In her own way, she has helped a lot in promoting my cause. For instance, when I told her about how an intern came to the ER to see a patient (I was there at that time for another reason), she wanted to know which patient she was supposed to attend to. Instead of taking the chart and maybe asking, which bed is "Patient Uy" or "Patient Dado", for instance, she just asked a nurse, while pointing her thumb to a certain bed, "mao ni?" It's like saying in tagalog, "ito ba yon?" I remembered thinking at that time, how ill-mannered of her. My Abby (at 5 years then) has better manners, and to think that she is a doctor!!! Bastos siya. My OB told me she met with the doctor in charge of the interns right away and demanded he had another talk with his charges. And you know what? I was at the ultrasound room yesterday afternoon. An intern came, peeped at our cubicle and said to the sonologist, "excuse me, I'm looking for Patient ______." Hey! That's a great improvement! I would like to believe that the change for the better is part of the greater reason and meaning that I have been searching for.
I also told her about one incident when my uncle laid dead at the ER after a vehicular accident and while we milled around in tears, the nurses and other personnel at the ER carried on with their life as usual, laughing, loud chika, etc. I asked my doctor, are these employees not supposed to observed proper decorum in those situations? Like for example, when a mass is going on in church, everybody knows we're not supposed to converse loudly with our companions, right? or take calls from our phones? or even text? I asked if their employees were also briefed along these lines, especially along the giving of respect to the sensitivies of others. Dra. Go told me she took it up with the head nurse. I hope the latter is taking it seriously. As I said, Dra. Go is formidable. I expect the head nurse wont hear the end of it from this lady.
I also discovered that the employees of Silliman University Medical Center do not have an Employee Code of conduct or Ethics. There is a code of discipline, but proper and uniform set of guidelines as to how they should deal with their patients? That's presently non-existent. Briefings and orientations of new employees are left to the dept head, and obviously, their guidance along proper conduct is basically left to the discretion and subjective views of each dept head.
I am now working on that line. gather what materials I could, and submit suggestions to the board of Trustees, including suggest to them that patients should be given a handbook advising them of their rights so that the patients themselves can act as some sort of "police" for the employees.
I have a material from the US embassy, from their veterans outpatient dept. It is about Patients' Rights and Responsibilities. I'm going to look into DOH and maybe, WHO. maybe there is some universal declaration on that, like the one on Children's Rights.
PLEASE, IF THERE IS SOMEBODY OUT THERE WHO HAS THAT KIND OF MATERIAL, PLEASE!!! I WOULD APPRECIATE IT VERY MUCH IF YOU COULD SHARE THEM WITH ME. My email add is olgaluciauy@yahoo.com or maybe you can course them through NOEMI if she wont mind? IT WILL REALLY HELP ME BIG TIME! Thanks in advance. God bless you all. -olga-
I was happy you mentioned the medical professionals' lack of training in handling grief during the interview. YOu were right, Cheche Lazaro was a great host. By the way, can we get Fallen Cradle from National Bookstore? I am sure we cannot find it in Dumaguete but if I should get the chance to visit Cebu, I will certainly drop by National to get a copy.
I saw my OB-Gyne yesterday. She's a formidable lady and she agrees with my observations regarding the lack of training of the employees of Silliman Medical Center. In her own way, she has helped a lot in promoting my cause. For instance, when I told her about how an intern came to the ER to see a patient (I was there at that time for another reason), she wanted to know which patient she was supposed to attend to. Instead of taking the chart and maybe asking, which bed is "Patient Uy" or "Patient Dado", for instance, she just asked a nurse, while pointing her thumb to a certain bed, "mao ni?" It's like saying in tagalog, "ito ba yon?" I remembered thinking at that time, how ill-mannered of her. My Abby (at 5 years then) has better manners, and to think that she is a doctor!!! Bastos siya. My OB told me she met with the doctor in charge of the interns right away and demanded he had another talk with his charges. And you know what? I was at the ultrasound room yesterday afternoon. An intern came, peeped at our cubicle and said to the sonologist, "excuse me, I'm looking for Patient ______." Hey! That's a great improvement! I would like to believe that the change for the better is part of the greater reason and meaning that I have been searching for.
I also told her about one incident when my uncle laid dead at the ER after a vehicular accident and while we milled around in tears, the nurses and other personnel at the ER carried on with their life as usual, laughing, loud chika, etc. I asked my doctor, are these employees not supposed to observed proper decorum in those situations? Like for example, when a mass is going on in church, everybody knows we're not supposed to converse loudly with our companions, right? or take calls from our phones? or even text? I asked if their employees were also briefed along these lines, especially along the giving of respect to the sensitivies of others. Dra. Go told me she took it up with the head nurse. I hope the latter is taking it seriously. As I said, Dra. Go is formidable. I expect the head nurse wont hear the end of it from this lady.
I also discovered that the employees of Silliman University Medical Center do not have an Employee Code of conduct or Ethics. There is a code of discipline, but proper and uniform set of guidelines as to how they should deal with their patients? That's presently non-existent. Briefings and orientations of new employees are left to the dept head, and obviously, their guidance along proper conduct is basically left to the discretion and subjective views of each dept head.
I am now working on that line. gather what materials I could, and submit suggestions to the board of Trustees, including suggest to them that patients should be given a handbook advising them of their rights so that the patients themselves can act as some sort of "police" for the employees.
I have a material from the US embassy, from their veterans outpatient dept. It is about Patients' Rights and Responsibilities. I'm going to look into DOH and maybe, WHO. maybe there is some universal declaration on that, like the one on Children's Rights.
PLEASE, IF THERE IS SOMEBODY OUT THERE WHO HAS THAT KIND OF MATERIAL, PLEASE!!! I WOULD APPRECIATE IT VERY MUCH IF YOU COULD SHARE THEM WITH ME. My email add is olgaluciauy@yahoo.com or maybe you can course them through NOEMI if she wont mind? IT WILL REALLY HELP ME BIG TIME! Thanks in advance. God bless you all. -olga-
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
When do you start loving a child?
My family suffered our own tragedy. I know our loss is trivial to most people, almost a non-issue. I have been told pasagdi na lang na. Binuang ra bitaw. Hasta kana ra. But I begged to disagree. It matters to us. This means the world to us.
All of you out there who are mothers and fathers to precious children ……. and even if you are not a parent yet, one way or another, there must be a little one whom you hold close to your heart, let me ask this question….
When do you start loving a child?
Will your love start only when you see your crying baby? Will that rush of tenderness flood your heart only when you hold that wriggling bundle for the first time? … when you can already see and feel its soft skin, smell its sweet breath, feel its warmth?
I learned I was pregnant on April 26. I had my miscarriage on May 9. How many days were that? Until now, I have not determined that yet. But it does not really matter, because during that very short time, the baby inside my womb was as real to me as my 6-year old daughter, Abby. I fell in love with that baby from the first moment I learned I had that little life growing in my womb. For some, my baby was merely a mass of dead tissue, not even human yet, much less a baby. But I already had a name for that “tissue”. Had my baby been born a girl, I would have called her Maria, in honor of our Holy Mother. Her nickname would have been MAIA. She would have been my little bird. But she never got her chance to fly. Her wings were broken too soon.
My faith in God is very simple. I believe that God has plans for all of us. I believe that there is meaning and purpose and reason for every little event in our lives. No matter how small, it is part of a grand plan engineered by our Great Creator. And even for the greatest pain, a reason and a purpose can be found. And somehow, someway, good will come out of it.
I cannot and will not accept that God will give and take away for nothing. I need to find the meaning and purpose behind my loss and my grief. I need that to ease my pain.
That’s why I need to ELEVATE our own personal tragedy to a higher plane. I am committed to turning my grief in an advocacy that will benefit not only my family but as many people as possible.
These are my requests from Silliman University Medical Center Foundation, Inc. (SUMCFI).
1. I am requesting Silliman Medical Center to publicly commit that they will implement a true and genuine VALUES DEVELOPMENT PROGRAM. Basically, I am challenging this institution TO TEACH THEIR EMPLOYEES BASIC GOOD MANNERS. I hope that from this will flow APPROPRIATE REGARD FOR THE SENSIBILITIES OF THOSE WHO COME TO THEM FOR SUCCOR.
2. Finally, IT WOULD MAKE ME VERY HAPPY AND WILL GIVE MEANING TO MY FAMILY’S LOSS, IF THE ADMINISTRATION OF SILLIMAN MEDICAL CENTER WILL AGREE TO POST PROMINENT SIGNS IN THE HOSPITAL PREMISES AND IN ALL THE HOSPITAL ROOMS, THAT PATIENTS AND THEIR RELATIVES AS WELL AS OTHER CLIENTS, MAY HAVE RECOURSE AND CAN REPORT TO A RESPONSIBLE PERSON, ANY INAPROPRIATE BEHAVIOUR THAT THEY MAY ENCOUNTER FROM ANY HOSPITAL PERSONNEL.
How hard can these be for a Christian institution such as Silliman Medical Center?
Please help me get them. It is within your power to help me get my simple requests. By myself, there is nothing much that I can do. I am just a small housewife from Dumaguete City. I am practically a non-entity here. I have no professional title or prominent lineage, no family name that spells power, wealth and influence.
But if you will join my cause, they might listen and pay attention. BOMBARD Silliman Medical Center with emails expressing your views. Please urge them to make those simple reforms. After all, I asked nothing for myself.
All that I ever want is find that meaning and purpose behind our loss, why God gave and took back too soon.
When I see those reforms, I know I will find closure. My pain will be eased. I will see the reason why God is making us go through all these. I will see the GOOD that will come out from my pain.
Thank you so much for your support.
You may e-mail:
MR. ROBERTO MONTEBON
President / Administrator
Silliman University Medical Center Foundation, Inc.
Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental
Philippines
e-mail address: sumcfi_99@yahoo.com
All of you out there who are mothers and fathers to precious children ……. and even if you are not a parent yet, one way or another, there must be a little one whom you hold close to your heart, let me ask this question….
When do you start loving a child?
Will your love start only when you see your crying baby? Will that rush of tenderness flood your heart only when you hold that wriggling bundle for the first time? … when you can already see and feel its soft skin, smell its sweet breath, feel its warmth?
I learned I was pregnant on April 26. I had my miscarriage on May 9. How many days were that? Until now, I have not determined that yet. But it does not really matter, because during that very short time, the baby inside my womb was as real to me as my 6-year old daughter, Abby. I fell in love with that baby from the first moment I learned I had that little life growing in my womb. For some, my baby was merely a mass of dead tissue, not even human yet, much less a baby. But I already had a name for that “tissue”. Had my baby been born a girl, I would have called her Maria, in honor of our Holy Mother. Her nickname would have been MAIA. She would have been my little bird. But she never got her chance to fly. Her wings were broken too soon.
My faith in God is very simple. I believe that God has plans for all of us. I believe that there is meaning and purpose and reason for every little event in our lives. No matter how small, it is part of a grand plan engineered by our Great Creator. And even for the greatest pain, a reason and a purpose can be found. And somehow, someway, good will come out of it.
I cannot and will not accept that God will give and take away for nothing. I need to find the meaning and purpose behind my loss and my grief. I need that to ease my pain.
That’s why I need to ELEVATE our own personal tragedy to a higher plane. I am committed to turning my grief in an advocacy that will benefit not only my family but as many people as possible.
These are my requests from Silliman University Medical Center Foundation, Inc. (SUMCFI).
1. I am requesting Silliman Medical Center to publicly commit that they will implement a true and genuine VALUES DEVELOPMENT PROGRAM. Basically, I am challenging this institution TO TEACH THEIR EMPLOYEES BASIC GOOD MANNERS. I hope that from this will flow APPROPRIATE REGARD FOR THE SENSIBILITIES OF THOSE WHO COME TO THEM FOR SUCCOR.
2. Finally, IT WOULD MAKE ME VERY HAPPY AND WILL GIVE MEANING TO MY FAMILY’S LOSS, IF THE ADMINISTRATION OF SILLIMAN MEDICAL CENTER WILL AGREE TO POST PROMINENT SIGNS IN THE HOSPITAL PREMISES AND IN ALL THE HOSPITAL ROOMS, THAT PATIENTS AND THEIR RELATIVES AS WELL AS OTHER CLIENTS, MAY HAVE RECOURSE AND CAN REPORT TO A RESPONSIBLE PERSON, ANY INAPROPRIATE BEHAVIOUR THAT THEY MAY ENCOUNTER FROM ANY HOSPITAL PERSONNEL.
How hard can these be for a Christian institution such as Silliman Medical Center?
Please help me get them. It is within your power to help me get my simple requests. By myself, there is nothing much that I can do. I am just a small housewife from Dumaguete City. I am practically a non-entity here. I have no professional title or prominent lineage, no family name that spells power, wealth and influence.
But if you will join my cause, they might listen and pay attention. BOMBARD Silliman Medical Center with emails expressing your views. Please urge them to make those simple reforms. After all, I asked nothing for myself.
All that I ever want is find that meaning and purpose behind our loss, why God gave and took back too soon.
When I see those reforms, I know I will find closure. My pain will be eased. I will see the reason why God is making us go through all these. I will see the GOOD that will come out from my pain.
Thank you so much for your support.
You may e-mail:
MR. ROBERTO MONTEBON
President / Administrator
Silliman University Medical Center Foundation, Inc.
Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental
Philippines
e-mail address: sumcfi_99@yahoo.com
My dead baby was to be urinated upon ...
I have a condition known as Polycystic Ovaries Syndrome (PCOS). In other words, I have an infertility problem. I cannot become pregnant as easily as some other women do. But due to medical intervention, I had one successful pregnancy. I now have a 6-year old daughter.
In December of 2005 and January 2006, I went through another round of fertility treatment in the hope of having another child. This treatment was highly expensive. My husband and I spent hundreds of thousands of pesos in the pursuit of our desire for a baby sister or brother for our daughter. It drained our limited financial resources extensively. But the financial toll was nothing compared to the heavy toll on our emotions. Time and again, we had to go through the painful cycle of fervent hope, anxious anticipation, and crushing disappointment after all our efforts and sacrifices failed to produce a child.
Having ran out for funds for the treatment, my husband and I were resigned to the fact that another child was not part of God's plan for our family. But on April 26, I discovered that I was pregnant. Against all the odds and against all our expectations, I had a spontaneous pregnancy! What joy! Only people who are similarly situated can fully understand and empathize with me in the euphoric state I was in when I found out I was going to have another baby after all!
Then came my crushing blow when I miscarried and lost my baby in the morning of May 9, 2006. After that, all that I ever wanted to do was to find out what was wrong with the child that I carried. I wanted to know why I lost my little one.
Around eleven in the morning of May 9, I took my baby to the SILLIMAN UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER laboratory for biopsy. My little one was placed in a small plastic covered container. I handed it to the medical technician after he suggested that he would put formalin into it. As he left the reception area, he handed the cup over to the janitor and said to him “u, ihi-i ni” ("Here, you urinate on this."). I was aghast. I could hardly believe that somebody would treat my dead little one with such cruel mockery. I was outraged and infuriated over the insult hurled at my personal tragedy. I was completely crushed when an uncaring, callous, uncompassionate and cold member of the medical profession carelessly trampled over my grief and my loss.
My husband and I wanted that baby so much and losing our little one broke my heart. I am devastated and I am in great pain. My pain has now multiplied a hundred times after the treatment that my dead little one got. My poor baby. My little Christmas baby whom I believed was going to be God’s Christmas present to our family. It’s life has barely begun, and it hurt so much to see it’s life ended so soon. And to have my little one urinated upon, even in jest, magnified my pain.
How can people be so cold and uncaring? I am aware that for SOME people in the medical profession, the ideals have long vanished. It is just a job for them, a means to earn a living, and working in local hospitals is a mere stepping stone for juicier jobs abroad. Compassion has long vanished in their hearts. But is it too much to ask for a little respect for the sensibilities of the people who come to them for aid? If they cannot show genuine compassion, then the least that they should do is DISPLAY the APPEARANCE OF COMPASSION.
The ability to have a child is a gift and a privilege that has not been given to everyone. It is a gift from God and should be appreciated, treasured and be thankful for. Countless women like me are constantly tormented by our burning desire for children. Others who are more fortunate should be counting their blessings.
As my friend observed, MOST PEOPLE HAVE LOST THEIR AWE AND AMAZEMENT OVER GOD’S POWER TO GRANT THE MIRACLE OF LIFE. Maybe the death of my little one will be instrumental in bringing back that respect for God’s CREATION. And may it also be a reminder for people to respect THE CREATOR who is the giver of life.
In December of 2005 and January 2006, I went through another round of fertility treatment in the hope of having another child. This treatment was highly expensive. My husband and I spent hundreds of thousands of pesos in the pursuit of our desire for a baby sister or brother for our daughter. It drained our limited financial resources extensively. But the financial toll was nothing compared to the heavy toll on our emotions. Time and again, we had to go through the painful cycle of fervent hope, anxious anticipation, and crushing disappointment after all our efforts and sacrifices failed to produce a child.
Having ran out for funds for the treatment, my husband and I were resigned to the fact that another child was not part of God's plan for our family. But on April 26, I discovered that I was pregnant. Against all the odds and against all our expectations, I had a spontaneous pregnancy! What joy! Only people who are similarly situated can fully understand and empathize with me in the euphoric state I was in when I found out I was going to have another baby after all!
Then came my crushing blow when I miscarried and lost my baby in the morning of May 9, 2006. After that, all that I ever wanted to do was to find out what was wrong with the child that I carried. I wanted to know why I lost my little one.
Around eleven in the morning of May 9, I took my baby to the SILLIMAN UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER laboratory for biopsy. My little one was placed in a small plastic covered container. I handed it to the medical technician after he suggested that he would put formalin into it. As he left the reception area, he handed the cup over to the janitor and said to him “u, ihi-i ni” ("Here, you urinate on this."). I was aghast. I could hardly believe that somebody would treat my dead little one with such cruel mockery. I was outraged and infuriated over the insult hurled at my personal tragedy. I was completely crushed when an uncaring, callous, uncompassionate and cold member of the medical profession carelessly trampled over my grief and my loss.
My husband and I wanted that baby so much and losing our little one broke my heart. I am devastated and I am in great pain. My pain has now multiplied a hundred times after the treatment that my dead little one got. My poor baby. My little Christmas baby whom I believed was going to be God’s Christmas present to our family. It’s life has barely begun, and it hurt so much to see it’s life ended so soon. And to have my little one urinated upon, even in jest, magnified my pain.
How can people be so cold and uncaring? I am aware that for SOME people in the medical profession, the ideals have long vanished. It is just a job for them, a means to earn a living, and working in local hospitals is a mere stepping stone for juicier jobs abroad. Compassion has long vanished in their hearts. But is it too much to ask for a little respect for the sensibilities of the people who come to them for aid? If they cannot show genuine compassion, then the least that they should do is DISPLAY the APPEARANCE OF COMPASSION.
The ability to have a child is a gift and a privilege that has not been given to everyone. It is a gift from God and should be appreciated, treasured and be thankful for. Countless women like me are constantly tormented by our burning desire for children. Others who are more fortunate should be counting their blessings.
As my friend observed, MOST PEOPLE HAVE LOST THEIR AWE AND AMAZEMENT OVER GOD’S POWER TO GRANT THE MIRACLE OF LIFE. Maybe the death of my little one will be instrumental in bringing back that respect for God’s CREATION. And may it also be a reminder for people to respect THE CREATOR who is the giver of life.
Miscarriage: What's the big deal?
What's the big deal about a miscarriage when women all over the world are having it everyday, even deliberately?
It is a big deal to me. Losing Maia broke my heart.
So what does a mother do after she loses her much-prayed and -hoped for unborn child? She moves on ... by trying to find the greater meaning and purpose behind her loss.
This burning pain inside me will be appeased only when I find that reason. This is what my blog is all about ... my journey towards that bigger meaning that will give worth to my anguish and my pain, until finally, I will be able to say ... "Ahh, God was not playing with me after all!"
It is a big deal to me. Losing Maia broke my heart.
So what does a mother do after she loses her much-prayed and -hoped for unborn child? She moves on ... by trying to find the greater meaning and purpose behind her loss.
This burning pain inside me will be appeased only when I find that reason. This is what my blog is all about ... my journey towards that bigger meaning that will give worth to my anguish and my pain, until finally, I will be able to say ... "Ahh, God was not playing with me after all!"
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