Walk With Me

*This is a personal post with potential emotional triggers. 

Living in a developing country presents new aspects of life that I had never experienced growing up in a developed country. Clean drinking water straight from the faucet, trash truck pick up twice a week, good medical care, and food always available at local stores are a few of those advantages. It's now normal to drink the filtered water and a having a grocery list rarely gets accomplished in one spot. The realm of medical was always on the back burner of my reality- I knew it was there and had heard stories from others of their personal experiences, but really was never impacted by it.

We were told by Fiona that we needed to go get an ultrasound at the pharmacy (apotik) in the next town over. We were told that due to a death in his family he would not be practicing that night and for us to come the next day. Sure... the next day... wait, but I want to know now (developed country mindset).

So we returned to the same local pharmacy that did the ultrasound for Kate.

To make an appointment you have to physically put your name on a list and wait until the doctor comes and calls your name. It's almost like a walk-in clinic, but there's a rank and order. We dropped Kate off with a close friend, because we didn't know how long we would be waiting. The wait was short. The lack of privacy is a reality- the assistant told me to take off my pants and underwear. She was holding a blanket by her legs, but wasn't using it to cover me. "This is normal here. This is normal here." The doctor did two types of ultrasounds. The machine was grainy and undefined. During the second ultrasound he asked me repeatedly if I was pregnant or if I had taken a pregnancy test and even at one point said there was no baby there. We finally found the baby, but there was no way we could tell if there was a heartbeat. He attempted to run the Doppler, which shows the heartbeats of momma and baby. There were no heartbeats to be heard, and I'm certain that I had an active heartbeat. Feeling like there were no answers given, we returned home to wait until the next evening. 

The next day (Friday) we went to the apotik we were originally meant to go to. We registered, got some dinner, and came back to wait and people-watch, which is really just you watching other people who are watching you! The machine was beautiful- clear, modern, and reliable. The doctor found the baby on the first touch down of the ultrasound thingy on my belly. There was our baby tucked away safely. He was immediately able to tell there was no heartbeat and explained that the baby had died. It was a brief experience. No sympathy. No time for crying. Just facts and more facts of what was to come. The doctor recommended taking care of things immediately and wrote a script for admittance to the hospital on Monday. 

We didn't go on Monday. Instead we took the weekend to process things and make decisions. My body was showing no signs of miscarriage. No cramping, no bleeding, nothing other than the disappearance of pregnancy symptoms. Fiona said we could take our time. My back burner thoughts of medical care here was quickly becoming a reality that I couldn't avoid. I weighed the pros and cons of having a natural miscarriage vs a DNC at the local hospital. My main concerns were my personal pain level and what to do with the baby after the baby passed. Through prayer and seeking advice from Josh and others, I decided that the procedure at the local hospital would be the best fit for me. 

Instead of going to the hospital on Monday, we went to Fiona for one final ultrasound just to make sure we were not terminating life. There was no beat, and we decided to go to the hospital on Friday.