damppanties
Tinkle, twinkle
- Joined
- May 7, 2002
- Posts
- 16,276
damppanties
Tinkle, twinkle
- Joined
- May 7, 2002
- Posts
- 16,276
*hugs*
G
Guest
Guest
Things ..... sighs.....
nothing that I can say will help....
I am thinking about you.
nothing that I can say will help....
I am thinking about you.
G
Guest
Guest
rgraham666
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2004
- Posts
- 43,724
Haven't given my *HUGS* and strength today.
There.
There.
damppanties
Tinkle, twinkle
- Joined
- May 7, 2002
- Posts
- 16,276
FRENCHIE44T
Lover of oral sex
- Joined
- May 27, 2003
- Posts
- 16,625
Thinking of you all the time. 
damppanties
Tinkle, twinkle
- Joined
- May 7, 2002
- Posts
- 16,276
SEVERUSMAX
Benevolent Master
- Joined
- Apr 1, 2004
- Posts
- 28,995
We're always here for you, Vana.
rgraham666
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2004
- Posts
- 43,724
*HUGS* beautiful.
Zeb_Carter
.-- - ..-.
- Joined
- Jun 15, 2006
- Posts
- 20,584
G
Guest
Guest
rgraham666
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2004
- Posts
- 43,724
*HUGS* Vana.
Just-Legal
Goth Flufflet
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2001
- Posts
- 4,075
Matadore said:Post partum can be tough under the very best of circumstances no matter what T. Cruise says on Opera. You have experienced what must be the worst of circumstances...if there are worse, I don't want to know about it.
Very sorry for your pain, but glad at your speedy recovery and to read your message on this thread because that means that you have the energy to write. A little concerned that the message was posted past midnight.
I'm sure that many more people from Lit than post are keeping up with your healing progress.
Vana isn't on lit-time.
Thoughts your way Vana, as always.
Samandiriel
Fallen Angel
- Joined
- Mar 24, 2005
- Posts
- 7,757
I love you so very very much.
http://www.craftyframes.co.uk/images/Tony%20Perryman/calla%20%20lillies%20no1.jpg
http://www.craftyframes.co.uk/images/Tony%20Perryman/calla%20%20lillies%20no1.jpg
Nirvanadragones
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2005
- Posts
- 14,399
Memories
It's been 21 days. So much can happen in 21 days. So much has happened.
I can still see her little chest go up and down as she struggled to breath, even with the ventilator.
I remember the doctor's reaction the first time I spoke to her after the birth " Oh God she is too small. How they got her out was a miracle." I learnt afterwards that they asked one of the med students with the smallest hands to pull her out, because they were scared of hurting her in the process.
How fast I learnt what the monitors meant - each beep, each light. I can still hear them and see them when I close my eyes. Nicu is like the twilight-zone - where the beanies are bigger than the babies.
And the medical paradox - When I kept being told that she was going to die, but yet they'd do everything they could to medically help her survive.
The three most hated letters in the English dictionary DNR - do not resuscitate.
And how perfect she was, lying with her tiny little hands covering her eyes, or more specifically the mask that covered her eyes.
The fateful words hours before she died " It's better to let her go." And my first, instinctive thought - she knows I am fighting for her and she is not meant to go yet.
And then my inner turmoil of when spirit and choice and free will comes in. And my guilt - a mother's entire being is there to protect her baby with a fierceness that borders on insanity.
The paediatrician picked Gabrielle up gently, and placed her in my arms, and I knew that this would be the first time and the last time I felt her weight near me. And immediately I could feel her relax, and mold her little body to mine - as if she felt pain-free, comfortable and safe for the first time.
I had agonised over how the last minutes would be so many times. It was not nearly as dramatic as I had expected. No fuss, no alarms or sirens beeping. No angel choir coming to fetch my little girl. Just me, and my baby in my arms – the paediatrician nearly, tears streaming down her face. Gabrielle was clutching my finger if that is what it could be called – too weak to hold on. And then she slipped away with no fighting. She just stopped breathing.
After a while the doctor had motioned towards the baby. And all I could say was " No". The paediatrician put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Hold your baby, Love. You hold her for as long as you want." Forever, I thought. Forever I want to sit here in this cold stainless steel room that smells like life and death, and choke back years of black.
I remember the agony of waking up from a nightmare and thinking "How could she be gone?" Tears from my eyes. Milk running from my breasts, and blood from my body. I had the scars to prove birth, but where is my baby? I sat up and scribbled on a piece of paper "I’m empty, but full of grief. "
And now, 21 days later, I'm clinging onto the hope that everything is going to be ok. I can’t even think about the future – I cant even THINK about not knowing what she’d be like when she was 3 and 9 and 11, and 17.
I thought I'd share - as painful as this is, it is necessary for me. And in a way, it is also to thank everyone for their support, love, and prayers.
It's been 21 days. So much can happen in 21 days. So much has happened.
I can still see her little chest go up and down as she struggled to breath, even with the ventilator.
I remember the doctor's reaction the first time I spoke to her after the birth " Oh God she is too small. How they got her out was a miracle." I learnt afterwards that they asked one of the med students with the smallest hands to pull her out, because they were scared of hurting her in the process.
How fast I learnt what the monitors meant - each beep, each light. I can still hear them and see them when I close my eyes. Nicu is like the twilight-zone - where the beanies are bigger than the babies.
And the medical paradox - When I kept being told that she was going to die, but yet they'd do everything they could to medically help her survive.
The three most hated letters in the English dictionary DNR - do not resuscitate.
And how perfect she was, lying with her tiny little hands covering her eyes, or more specifically the mask that covered her eyes.
The fateful words hours before she died " It's better to let her go." And my first, instinctive thought - she knows I am fighting for her and she is not meant to go yet.
And then my inner turmoil of when spirit and choice and free will comes in. And my guilt - a mother's entire being is there to protect her baby with a fierceness that borders on insanity.
The paediatrician picked Gabrielle up gently, and placed her in my arms, and I knew that this would be the first time and the last time I felt her weight near me. And immediately I could feel her relax, and mold her little body to mine - as if she felt pain-free, comfortable and safe for the first time.
I had agonised over how the last minutes would be so many times. It was not nearly as dramatic as I had expected. No fuss, no alarms or sirens beeping. No angel choir coming to fetch my little girl. Just me, and my baby in my arms – the paediatrician nearly, tears streaming down her face. Gabrielle was clutching my finger if that is what it could be called – too weak to hold on. And then she slipped away with no fighting. She just stopped breathing.
After a while the doctor had motioned towards the baby. And all I could say was " No". The paediatrician put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Hold your baby, Love. You hold her for as long as you want." Forever, I thought. Forever I want to sit here in this cold stainless steel room that smells like life and death, and choke back years of black.
I remember the agony of waking up from a nightmare and thinking "How could she be gone?" Tears from my eyes. Milk running from my breasts, and blood from my body. I had the scars to prove birth, but where is my baby? I sat up and scribbled on a piece of paper "I’m empty, but full of grief. "
And now, 21 days later, I'm clinging onto the hope that everything is going to be ok. I can’t even think about the future – I cant even THINK about not knowing what she’d be like when she was 3 and 9 and 11, and 17.
I thought I'd share - as painful as this is, it is necessary for me. And in a way, it is also to thank everyone for their support, love, and prayers.
RedHairedandFriendly
Too much red on Red?
- Joined
- Apr 20, 2005
- Posts
- 112,724
You have our love, my beautiful friend.
Alessia Brio
Eroticist
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2005
- Posts
- 1,364
Gorgeous souls.
G
Guest
Guest
"you can go to full term. you can deliver the twins and they'll live for a while, maybe a day at most but they will certainly die.
i remember the medical description of the problems.
i remember this. i remember the tone. i remember staring at the ultrasound and thinking...how can he see this? i can't see it. what if he's wrong?
i cried so hard that every part of me hurt. i cried for weeks. i cried for babies i never got to hold. i cried through the anesthesia. i cried when they took the babies from my body knowing how perfectly formed they were.i cried for the souls i would never know. i cried for the sixth miscarriage...the pregnancy that had gone for what i thought was a safe time. i ached an ache that can not be described.
i know.
i remember the medical description of the problems.
i remember this. i remember the tone. i remember staring at the ultrasound and thinking...how can he see this? i can't see it. what if he's wrong?
i cried so hard that every part of me hurt. i cried for weeks. i cried for babies i never got to hold. i cried through the anesthesia. i cried when they took the babies from my body knowing how perfectly formed they were.i cried for the souls i would never know. i cried for the sixth miscarriage...the pregnancy that had gone for what i thought was a safe time. i ached an ache that can not be described.
i know.
TriggerHippie
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Sep 2, 2006
- Posts
- 289
I hug you tightly, because I don't know that pain, but you make me hurt.vella_ms said:"you can go to full term. you can deliver the twins and they'll live for a while, maybe a day at most but they will certainly die.
i remember the medical description of the problems.
i remember this. i remember the tone. i remember staring at the ultrasound and thinking...how can he see this? i can't see it. what if he's wrong?
i cried so hard that every part of me hurt. i cried for weeks. i cried for babies i never got to hold. i cried through the anesthesia. i cried when they took the babies from my body knowing how perfectly formed they were.i cried for the souls i would never know. i cried for the sixth miscarriage...the pregnancy that had gone for what i thought was a safe time. i ached an ache that can not be described.
i know.
Peace, Vella and Vana and all of us who love you both.
Nirvanadragones
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2005
- Posts
- 14,399
vella_ms said:"you can go to full term. you can deliver the twins and they'll live for a while, maybe a day at most but they will certainly die.
i remember the medical description of the problems.
i remember this. i remember the tone. i remember staring at the ultrasound and thinking...how can he see this? i can't see it. what if he's wrong?
i cried so hard that every part of me hurt. i cried for weeks. i cried for babies i never got to hold. i cried through the anesthesia. i cried when they took the babies from my body knowing how perfectly formed they were.i cried for the souls i would never know. i cried for the sixth miscarriage...the pregnancy that had gone for what i thought was a safe time. i ached an ache that can not be described.
i know.
Alessia Brio said:Gorgeous souls.
RedHairedandFriendly said:You have our love, my beautiful friend.
