I've been meaning to write about the termination for many months now. I left off with us coming home after a fruitless day in the hospital. Well we went back the next day and finished what should have been started the day before. The small details elude me now, so much has happened in the months since; the important moments remain though.
We arrived and Sher was promptly checked-in to the maternity ward. She was given a bed in a corner of the ward and we soon realised the beds in that particular section of the ward were exclusively for ladies having terminations. It was by far the quietest part of the ward. It wasn't shielded in any way from the rest of the ward so we were surrounded by babies and Mums. It wasn't awful, certainly not for me as I was more focused on Sher, but I can see that it might bother others in our situation.
Sher was given the first dose of medication quite quickly so we settled in to wait. I was really hoping it would all be over by the end of the day, the doctors told us that it usually takes 3-4 doses of the medication before a termination is complete. Unfortunately this didn't happen for us, it took much longer. Having said this, her contractions started incredibly quickly. She was in a hell of a lot of pain but was only given panadol, until she made the nurses realise she needed something stronger. They gave her a shot of pethidine in her bum. Very shortly after that they wheeled her into the labour room because the pain was so intense. Thankfully I got to accompany her.
The next few hours were exhausting for me, but obviously more so for Sher. For the most part I felt useless. I couldn't do anything to help Sher except be there as support. I tried holding her hand or rubbing her back but this was too much sensory input for Sher, on top of the labour pains. So I sat next to the bed and watched. It's a horrible thing to have to sit and watch someone you love going through something so painful and not be able to help in any way. Nothing I could do or say would make things better, or make Sher's 'job' there any more pleasant. Sher had multiple doses of the medication but all she experienced was more labour pain. This continued on into the early hours of the morning, at which point Sher had been given the maximum amount of medication allowable within 24 hours. We would have to wait until morning before they gave her any further doses.
As it turned out though, no further doses were necessary. In the morning Sher needed to go to the bathroom, for the first time in hours. The nurses weren't on hand at the time and Sher was pretty mobile so she took herself off, back onto the prenatal ward, to use the bathroom there. I stayed in our little labour room. I wasn't aware of anything happening outside, the labour ward is separated from the maternity ward by 2 sets of double doors and a corridor, so it was next to impossible to hear any noise emanating from the maternity ward. Having said that though, I did hear a vague bit of shouting in Cantonese but thought nothing of it. Sher was gone for probably 5 minutes, not terribly long, if you've ever had a girlfriend you'll know 5 minutes in the bathroom for a lady is NOT a lot of time. But when Sher was wheeled back to our room in a wheelchair my man brain did go ping!, and I knew something must have happened. I don't remember what Sher said, "It's done" or "It's out". She had delivered the baby in the bathroom. I'm not going to go into a whole lot of detail, that's her story to tell (here if you're interested http://bit.ly/12IuaeC) all I will say is that it was awful, compounded by the near deafening shouts of the nurses on the ward after she came out to show them she had 'delivered'. Why they would react by yelling at one another instead of calmly taking Sher back to her room, quietly asking her a few questions and allowing her to rest after what was probably the worst shock of her life, I'll never know. It's one of those cultural disconnects that happen here in HK, I truly hate it; otherwise intelligent and kinds people can turn into loud, unthinking, insensitive, fools.
They put Sher back in her bed, and called me over behind a curtain. I didn't mention earlier that there was a little basket in the corner of the room, next to the door. Honestly it was a bread basket, but they had put a little blanket inside, turning the bread basket into a dolls bed. I knew, from the moment I saw that little dolls bed, what it was going to be used for. So I wasn't surprised when I came around the curtain and saw the dolls bed was occupied. They had placed our little baby into the basket, having cleaned him off a bit. It was a shock to see him. It was totally evident that he wouldn't have lived had he been born full term. His wee body (no more than 2 inches long) was terribly broken and deformed. They gave me a minute with him. I can't remember if I said anything or did anything except stare. It was quiet and peaceful, and I knew beyond any doubt we had done the right thing. Bringing that boy into the world full term would have been horrifically cruel, to him and us. The nurses confirmed that we wanted an autopsy performed and that we wouldn't get his body back afterwards as there just isn't enough of it after the autopsy. That was all expected and we agreed. They took a photo of him before taking him away and that's the last ever I saw of him.
I'd like to say that was the end of the whole process, that we were able to go home and be with our lovely Carys, that the ordeal was over and we lived happily ever after. Unfortunately not. Once again the system was there, ready to fuck us over. Or rather fuck up my wife. We expecting some waiting around, and sure enough we had to wait several hours before Sher was released; a sensible precaution considering she had just gone through child birth. Before being released the doctor saw us, and prescribed some pain meds for Sher, told her to expect further bleeding and that she might, possibly, pass some of her placenta in the next few days as they couldn't confirm she had already passed it all. This led Sher, quite logically, to ask if she needed antibiotics. The doctor said no. She said no. I repeat that because it's stupid, and because it would come back as a serious problem. If I told you there was tissue that was slowly dying inside of you, wouldn't you expect some form of treatment to avoid say....an infection? As a doctor wouldn't it be best practice to limit your patient's exposure to post procedure infection? This doctor didn't seem to think so. So we walked out trusting this woman's opinion. Within about 2 days we were back in our doctor's office because Sher was SURPRISE! experiencing serious abdominal pain and bleeding. The doctor was very surprised Sher wasn't on antibiotics, so we walked away with a bag full which had to be topped up later on.
We got back to normal quite quickly, but what Sher and I realise now is that we were just ignoring how we felt. Neither of us were alright, we were both incredibly sad. There's a lot of guilt wrapped up in terminating a pregnancy, not to mention finding out your baby has genetic defects. You immediately begin to question everything you did before you knew the pregnancy even existed. You wonder if it's something you did, physically or spiritually, that made this happen. You blame yourself. None of that stops after the termination. It went on and on for me in the months afterwards, I just wasn't fully conscious of it. I could rationalise arguments absolving Sher and I of any blame, but it didn't matter. There's nothing rational about losing a baby. It would take many months for us to realise this and deal with it. The whole experience was heart wrenching and anger inducing for the multiple examples of callous ineptitude. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and I'm so grateful to the people in my life who were so supportive and kind. That's all anyone can ever be, and that's all I ever wanted. Thank you so much for your friendship. It means the world to me and to Sher.
I'd like to say we're both past it, that's it's over and we've moved on but, personally speaking there's a part of me that's always going to be stuck in that time and place. It will always be a part of who I am. I sometimes think about Devon and it makes me incredibly sad, I miss him. The difference is now I'm not sad all the time, I don't think about it all the time, it's a part of my story.
There is one other huge difference and his name is Benedict who arrived 1 year later. He's an incredibly cute, chubby baby boy. He isn't a replacement, he was a surprise, and he is happiness incarnate. Sometimes you get just what you need, and we really needed a wee baby boy in our lives. I love him to the moon and I'm so grateful to have him in my life.
The next few hours were exhausting for me, but obviously more so for Sher. For the most part I felt useless. I couldn't do anything to help Sher except be there as support. I tried holding her hand or rubbing her back but this was too much sensory input for Sher, on top of the labour pains. So I sat next to the bed and watched. It's a horrible thing to have to sit and watch someone you love going through something so painful and not be able to help in any way. Nothing I could do or say would make things better, or make Sher's 'job' there any more pleasant. Sher had multiple doses of the medication but all she experienced was more labour pain. This continued on into the early hours of the morning, at which point Sher had been given the maximum amount of medication allowable within 24 hours. We would have to wait until morning before they gave her any further doses.
As it turned out though, no further doses were necessary. In the morning Sher needed to go to the bathroom, for the first time in hours. The nurses weren't on hand at the time and Sher was pretty mobile so she took herself off, back onto the prenatal ward, to use the bathroom there. I stayed in our little labour room. I wasn't aware of anything happening outside, the labour ward is separated from the maternity ward by 2 sets of double doors and a corridor, so it was next to impossible to hear any noise emanating from the maternity ward. Having said that though, I did hear a vague bit of shouting in Cantonese but thought nothing of it. Sher was gone for probably 5 minutes, not terribly long, if you've ever had a girlfriend you'll know 5 minutes in the bathroom for a lady is NOT a lot of time. But when Sher was wheeled back to our room in a wheelchair my man brain did go ping!, and I knew something must have happened. I don't remember what Sher said, "It's done" or "It's out". She had delivered the baby in the bathroom. I'm not going to go into a whole lot of detail, that's her story to tell (here if you're interested http://bit.ly/12IuaeC) all I will say is that it was awful, compounded by the near deafening shouts of the nurses on the ward after she came out to show them she had 'delivered'. Why they would react by yelling at one another instead of calmly taking Sher back to her room, quietly asking her a few questions and allowing her to rest after what was probably the worst shock of her life, I'll never know. It's one of those cultural disconnects that happen here in HK, I truly hate it; otherwise intelligent and kinds people can turn into loud, unthinking, insensitive, fools.
They put Sher back in her bed, and called me over behind a curtain. I didn't mention earlier that there was a little basket in the corner of the room, next to the door. Honestly it was a bread basket, but they had put a little blanket inside, turning the bread basket into a dolls bed. I knew, from the moment I saw that little dolls bed, what it was going to be used for. So I wasn't surprised when I came around the curtain and saw the dolls bed was occupied. They had placed our little baby into the basket, having cleaned him off a bit. It was a shock to see him. It was totally evident that he wouldn't have lived had he been born full term. His wee body (no more than 2 inches long) was terribly broken and deformed. They gave me a minute with him. I can't remember if I said anything or did anything except stare. It was quiet and peaceful, and I knew beyond any doubt we had done the right thing. Bringing that boy into the world full term would have been horrifically cruel, to him and us. The nurses confirmed that we wanted an autopsy performed and that we wouldn't get his body back afterwards as there just isn't enough of it after the autopsy. That was all expected and we agreed. They took a photo of him before taking him away and that's the last ever I saw of him.
I'd like to say that was the end of the whole process, that we were able to go home and be with our lovely Carys, that the ordeal was over and we lived happily ever after. Unfortunately not. Once again the system was there, ready to fuck us over. Or rather fuck up my wife. We expecting some waiting around, and sure enough we had to wait several hours before Sher was released; a sensible precaution considering she had just gone through child birth. Before being released the doctor saw us, and prescribed some pain meds for Sher, told her to expect further bleeding and that she might, possibly, pass some of her placenta in the next few days as they couldn't confirm she had already passed it all. This led Sher, quite logically, to ask if she needed antibiotics. The doctor said no. She said no. I repeat that because it's stupid, and because it would come back as a serious problem. If I told you there was tissue that was slowly dying inside of you, wouldn't you expect some form of treatment to avoid say....an infection? As a doctor wouldn't it be best practice to limit your patient's exposure to post procedure infection? This doctor didn't seem to think so. So we walked out trusting this woman's opinion. Within about 2 days we were back in our doctor's office because Sher was SURPRISE! experiencing serious abdominal pain and bleeding. The doctor was very surprised Sher wasn't on antibiotics, so we walked away with a bag full which had to be topped up later on.
We got back to normal quite quickly, but what Sher and I realise now is that we were just ignoring how we felt. Neither of us were alright, we were both incredibly sad. There's a lot of guilt wrapped up in terminating a pregnancy, not to mention finding out your baby has genetic defects. You immediately begin to question everything you did before you knew the pregnancy even existed. You wonder if it's something you did, physically or spiritually, that made this happen. You blame yourself. None of that stops after the termination. It went on and on for me in the months afterwards, I just wasn't fully conscious of it. I could rationalise arguments absolving Sher and I of any blame, but it didn't matter. There's nothing rational about losing a baby. It would take many months for us to realise this and deal with it. The whole experience was heart wrenching and anger inducing for the multiple examples of callous ineptitude. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and I'm so grateful to the people in my life who were so supportive and kind. That's all anyone can ever be, and that's all I ever wanted. Thank you so much for your friendship. It means the world to me and to Sher.
I'd like to say we're both past it, that's it's over and we've moved on but, personally speaking there's a part of me that's always going to be stuck in that time and place. It will always be a part of who I am. I sometimes think about Devon and it makes me incredibly sad, I miss him. The difference is now I'm not sad all the time, I don't think about it all the time, it's a part of my story.
There is one other huge difference and his name is Benedict who arrived 1 year later. He's an incredibly cute, chubby baby boy. He isn't a replacement, he was a surprise, and he is happiness incarnate. Sometimes you get just what you need, and we really needed a wee baby boy in our lives. I love him to the moon and I'm so grateful to have him in my life.
