*This is not the entire account of the journey. There's just too much to say. It's too raw and I'm not sure this is the forum I want to re-live every single aspect of my journey. Thank you for walking with me and sharing in my grief, joy and healing. -Amber*
After going between a couple different buildings a few different times, I waited as Josh registered with the hospital. There was a stray cat who had walked into the waiting area. I still think it's interesting the areas cats are allowed admittance. The cat was familiar with the area, and at one point I lost track of him. The receptionist began shushing out of no where, and it was clear where the cat was. The cat came back to the chairs where I was sitting, and I began to pet this stray cat. It was therapeutic in some ways- calming nerves.
My journey began in the ER, which is heartbreaking place. Incredibly sick people come hoping for answers to their pains. A little girl, no older than Kate, was writhing in pain on a hospital bed while her exhausted Momma helplessly looked to the nurses for an answer. Already emotional my heart broke for this Momma. My heart began to pray for answers.
I was taken to a bed to wait for something- no one said what we were waiting for. The walls had dried blood next to my face when lying down. A nurse approached to insert the IV line. She attempted first on my right wrist under my thumb. I stared at a spot on the dirty ceiling willing myself to be strong. She kept pushing on the area of the inserted needle asking me if it hurt. Bravely I said," Yes, it hurts but it's okay." I finally looked to where she was pointing because she held up my wrist and said," Does this hurt? (poke. poke.) Because it's big right here." My skin had a huge swollen bump where the needle had gone in! With each poke pain shot up my arm- yes!! That hurts!! So, she took it out and left. She returned with a friend who attempted to insert the IV on the back of my left hand. The attempt failed even though she pushed and pushed the line in. Be brave. Be brave. I yelled at Josh to please call Fiona thinking she could come and put in the IV for me. They kept asking why my veins were like this? Had I been fasting? Why had I been fasting- my procedure was not until 3:30 that afternoon. What?! This was news to me.
The two nurses left. Fiona came. She said in her Aussie way "How you going?" and I burst into tears. They flowed. Tears mixed with fear came streaming out. Phrases like "I don't want to do this!", "What am I doing here? I just want to go home. But I don't want to do *this* at home!", or "Is there any other way?" came jumbled out. Fiona listened. God restored my strength and we pressed on. A third nurse came in at some point to insert the IV. We dubbed her "The Ringer", because she looked like she had done this a thousand times. She put the IV in on the back of my right hand. The first nurse was left to complete the job. Cross cultural lessons do not stop in the midst of an ER. She poked her failed attempt and asked if it was still sore. I said yes, it is. She then poked her friend's failed attempt and said "Yes, but *this* one is much more sore, right?" Seriously?? I almost lost it- I said No- your's is much more sore! I was then wheeled away through the hospital to my next destination. I'm glad someone was pushing me because I'm sure I would have gotten lost. It was a sight to see- a bright red-faced, crying white woman being pushed in a wheelchair through the hospital.
The Women's Ward was in a beautiful new building. The rooms were spacious with little to offer for comfort. We had a bed, which we provided our own sheets for, and a plastic chair for Josh. I stared at a blank wall that had a wall clock and a gold crucifixion hung above it. Josh was given a list of medicine and supplies to purchase at the pharmacy in the hospital. In Indonesia the patient is required to purchase the supplies needed for any procedure prior to the procedure. The pharmacy in the hospital did not have the majority of the listed items and told Josh to go across the street to another place. The pharmacy across the street did not have the items and recommended he make a 15 minute drive to another place. He returned after hunting down all the listed items at the various pharmacies around town. Fiona kept me company while Josh was on the hunt, which was nice because fear was on the edge of my heart throughout the whole experience.
The nurses entered in a whole team- like a pit crew at a NASCAR race. The head nurse said they wanted to give me a medicine to help begin the miscarriage process naturally. I told Fiona in English- the whole reason I'm here is so I would not have to experience anything naturally! She calmed me down by telling me the facts- the amount they wanted to give was 1/8 of a dose that would be given in Australia or America. The medicine was inserted and I was to lie on the bed for the medicine to take effect.
This is the part that I'm convinced the Lord was gracious to me and gave me perspective of love rather than bitterness. The Women's Ward was a place grief and joy slam into one another. I was there because my baby had died, and others were there because their babies were being born. Two sets of twins were born that morning. I heard first cries of other babies, knowing that I would not hear my baby's cry. At the moment (and even still) I'm grateful for life. Also in that moment I realized that I lived in a world that disregarded the emotional side of medical care- it should not be that death and life share a room. Even now a month later, my heart is stirred and tears well up at this memory.
A flurry of activity swept into my room around 2 PM. The nurses seemed excited that something was finally happening on this somewhat slow day. They had attached the stirrups and were about to remove the lower part of the bed when the head nurse came in and stopped all activity because the anesthesiologist would not be ready until 3. The nurses hung their heads as they left the room. The whole crew returned at 3:30 ready to go. We have a photo of at least 8 people in the room besides me- doctor, anesthesiologist, interns, med students, nurses, and patient. No privacy- I'm glad I was knocked out.
The anesthesiologist talked fast and was right in my face. When someone is that close you can see straight into their mouth and examine all their teeth. It was too much for me. I just nodded and smiled as he spoke because I only understood about half of it. Fiona was with me the whole time. She said," They are about to give you the medicine to make you forget." I replied with "Good. I don't want to remember any of this." My last remark was "I think it's working..."
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