Stas and I became pregnant around May/June of 2009 to our surprise. Things didn't really go smoothly from the start. I was very ill, Anemic, and all around nutritionally deficient. Our little girl was sucking everything out of me and I couldn't keep up. From the beginning I felt some thing wasn't right.
I tend to be very aware of my body. Its a blessing as well as a curse. I am the type that knows I am pregnant two weeks into the adventure, so before it even shows on a test. Not because of any phantom symptoms but just a feeling. Most don't believe that is possible but I have proof, its happened to me all three instances.
Aside from nutritional issues I didn't have anything obvious going on. I tried to discuss my worries with my Doctor at the time but she didn't even take notice. (I lived in San Francisco.) She chalked my concerns up to my fear of replays of previous experiences. Telling me that basically my worries were unfounded.
On the 16th of October I went to go pee, I had already made it to the stage of constant urination. Annoying but didn't think anything of it. Then I noticed I wasn't peeing, I knew immediately even without previous birthing experience that my water had broken. I pulled up my clothing and calmly told Stas (Stanislav or Stas is my Significant Other) that we had to go to the hospital, my words were "I am going into labor, the baby is dead. We need to go to the hospital." I know I sound morbid, I just knew. Contractions already began. We caught a cab, I still don't know why we didn't call an ambulance when my water ruptured. Went into the hospital and they did an ultrasound. She was indeed gone, it was inevitable my water didn't just leak but completely ruptured. At 17 weeks she was little more then a fetus becoming a baby by label.
I tried to keep it together after they told us but my composure didn't last long. I sobbed uncontrollably. Stas called my Tia (Aunt) who lived about an half an hour away, she called my mother who lives here in Visalia which is four hours away from the Bay Area. She and my Sister (Best friend for over 12 years) drove up to San Francisco. In the mean time, they gave us an option, either they could surgically remove the fetus or I could deliver her vaginally. I wanted surgery. I didn't want to experience anymore. Although my body was already all on its own going through the motions I wasn't in need of medications to push the process along. Stas wouldn't allow me to have her removed surgically, being its more dangerous and technically unnecessary. They gave me something to keep me calm and told me stay in bed once they moved me upstairs. I didn't, I couldn't, contractions aren't comfortable and I had to potty... I thought. She was nearly born in a toilet. How embarrassing, right.
Moving up into the time-line, I gave birth to her October 17th with Stas and my Tia (Aunt) by my side. I held her, we all did and said good bye. We cremated her and opted to not name her. I have photo's of her, a small hospital layette set, foot and hand prints all placed in a memory box they provided.She was already longer like her father (Stas is 6'3" and I am 4'11") and had a lot of his features but of course it was a face only a parent could love with her red skin and hairless body.