Betrayed By My Body

I am lucky to have lived my life with a pretty good view of my body.  Yes, I totally went through the awkward stage of middle school, which pretty much lasted until my freshman year of college :)  but even in my awkwardness, I have always been proud of my body.  That is until now. Now I feel like it has betrayed me, and after its betrayal it is now mocking me.

My body after all is what caused my babies to die. Yes, I know it is not my fault, the doctors have told me many times, but I still can't help but be mad at this machine that is my body for not doing what it was supposed to.  They are fairly certain our miscarriage with Luca and trouble getting pregnant had to do with my polyps (we will never no for sure, because we didn't do any testing with Luca).  Then with Elisa, it was the placenta that was the problem. The very thing that was supposed to be my baby's lifeline, was hogging all the nutrients and keeping it for itself (seriously placenta, you had ONE job to do).  It grew larger and larger while my baby fell behind the growth targets, and eventually led to her not being able to live on this earth.

I lived for 10 weeks worried about my baby, from the time of her diagnosis in November, to when she left this world in January.  Worrying about what my body was not providing her. Put on bed rest,  hoping that by saving my energy would be enough to save her - but it wasn't.

Then after we found she no longer had a heartbeat, I went through labor and again my body almost betrayed me.  I know that the issues with our labor outlined in the post Elisa's Birth were really the result of bad medical care, but again, my body was fighting against what it was supposed to be doing in labor.  And by doing this, it almost cost my baby's precious body, and almost cost us the hope of any future children.

Then....then was the salt in the wound.  After making it through the difficult pregnancy, after making it through the pains of knowing my child had died and would have to be born, after making it through labor, my body had to mock me.  Mock my pain by adding to my pain.  My body started to produce milk for a baby that was already gone. For the baby it could not provide for before, now it shows up, now it is "ready to go".

The engorgement pain I experienced for over a week was one of my lowest lows.  Milk was coming in for a baby that was already gone.  A baby that my body couldn't provide for before, but NOW my body was ready to provide for it.  And the pain...I was in so much physical pain. (It turns out after I was finally able to get into a doctor after 5 days of excruciating pain, that my engorgement was much more than typical...a good sign I would be able to provide well whenever we have a living baby...but for now it meant horrible pain). For over a week I could not do anything except lie flat on my back and not move.  Even leaning over to get my water to take Advil was too much movement,  Standing up hurt because gravity would cause too much pain.  All I wanted was to be held while I cried about our baby being gone and to be held as I cried about the pain, but even a soft embrace caused too much pain.

Now that the engorgement pain has gone, I am confused because in a way I miss it.  As painful as it was, it was the last thing physically tying me to the fact that my baby girl had been born.

Now that labor is over, engorgement is gone and things are starting to slowly go back to "normal" well the new normal, I see that my body is forever changed.  When I get in the shower I notice my stretch marks, my sagging boobs, and my little pooch of a belly.  All things I was thinking would be battle wounds, worth the reward of our baby girl.  But I didn't get the prize at the end of the journey. I am left with a changed body and another baby in heaven.