Some days are better than others. It has been quite a while since I wrote here last, mostly because I have needed to heal more and because Dave and I took a giant leap of faith and moved across the country, with no jobs to speak of, to start a new life.
Today though, I’m not going to talk about the move, but more about Cora. This is for other mothers who have lost a baby, via Triploidy or another circumstance. This is an update, because while it was hard for me to write Cora’s story, I did not expect a few things to happen afterwards that would be even harder.
First, to any mother who has had to make the life changing, heart breaking and crushing decision to terminate a pregnancy, I am so sorry for your loss. Here are two things that I was not prepared fort:
1) Hospital bills – we all know that hospitals are fairly black and white when it comes to their billing, but I never once imagined that when I opened up that thick envelope (that looked as though insurance hadn’t covered one cent) and read the different procedures I was being charged for, nothing, and I mean NOTHING prepared me to see the word “abortion” listed. I have seen this bill five times now and every time I do it is heart breaking. That wasn’t what I wanted; never in my life did I think that I would have that listed in my medical record. But there it is, listed on my hospital bill. No one warned me that could even be a possibility, so here I am warning you. Do not be shocked since all of your doctors will say things like “D & E” or “Termination” or “Reduction”. According to the billing department, none of those terms apply. Only the hard, cold and upsetting word “abortion” will do for them. I know that it is all codes and dollar signs for them, but for me, the woman who is still working on my grief, seeing that word makes me sad and angry every time I see it on my bill.
2) The Due Date – I did have one or two people tell me that this would probably be a hard day, but nothing could really have prepared me for the reality of emotions that crashed down on me. The day started off gloomy, then I started to cry in the car, then back at the house, then a little more before Dave and I went on a distraction date, then a little less, but then a little more and finally we ended up running, as we always do when we need to get away. We ended up at the beach to find some peace and quiet. It was there that we found, during a gloomy sunset shrouded in fog, a small (and whole) sand dollar. I had never seen one that small and we both took it as a sign that Cora is ok. As soon as I held it though, I lost it. I didn’t expect that, but I was glad that I was finally able to gain a sense of release since the day had been so tense. Later we found two additional and even smaller intact sand dollars, each smaller than the last. I’m not sure how we found them in the darkening sky, but they provided a sense of relief that I don’t think we would have gotten from doing anything else. I am unable to adequately describe the feelings and emotions that ran through me that day. I just know that it was hard, harder than I thought it would be, but I’m glad that the first anniversary of her due date has passed and that we received a sign (from her, the universe or just one that we made up because we needed something to hold onto), so we could begin to heal in an entirely different way.
Losing Cora was one of the hardest things I have ever gone through, but it is comforting to know that she will always be with me, both in my heart and in my bloodstream (once you have carried a child their DNA is forever in your body). I still have days where I cry and face unexpected emotions, but I am trying to embrace them, deal with them, and move forward. Even though the billing situation with the hospital is frustrating, I know that is something that I just have to deal with…plus, I don’t have to turn the page and see everything listed out if I don’t want to.
So there are two things that I was not prepared for…so if you do ever find yourself in a situation like mine or something similar, at least you will have a tiny bit of warning of two things that you might have to expect and/or endure. I hope with all of my heart though that no one else has to go through what I did. I know that is an unrealistic hope, but isn’t that what hope is?
