Guilt.

Twenty-two going on twenty-three years of juvenile diabetes and not a single complication. Even endocrinologist can't belive how well my body has handled the destructive disease.

I take care of patients who have lost limb, organ, and life to it's power. But not me. Nope, my body is fully functioning...for me. For my children not so much. My diabetes took out it vegenence on the kids. How unfair of me to allow it to do so.

What I wouldn't do to take on the wrath of this disease on my body and spare my children.

I naively thought I had two healthy pregnancies, but perhaps I was so preoccupied with the joy of holding my plump babies, I never stopped to think how the affects of the disease put them both in the NICU for days with hypoglycemia. My OB always referred to my pregnancies as healthy deliveries and while my gut told me they weren't, I chose to believe all was well and continued to get pregnant, even after the loss of the twins.

Lots of people miscarry. I was just one of the millions of women who did, right? Maybe. Maybe not. And while the pregnancy with our twins wasn't planned, Claudie's was. In fact, it was almost forced. I wanted a baby! Losing the twins pushed me to the brink and I knew the only thing to heal me was another child. So for months we tried and were disappointed, thinking perhaps God had given us all we were to have.

Then after almost 9 months of failed test, a positive one. It was a sign.

All would be well.

But all was not well.

Mom died.

We found out this pregnancy was a daughter.

We would name her after mom.

All would be well.

But all was not well.

Our daughter died.

I know only ultimately God has the power to give life and take it away, but I played with fire. I didn't know I was playing with fire, but it embers were consuming my child. The embers that never touched me, consumed my Claudie.

I can barely breathe from the it's all-consuming guilt.

All is not well.

My daughter is dead and my hands are stained with her blood.

Harder Than I Thought

I knew the this was going to be difficult. I knew it was going to be take my breathe away with the pain sometimes. I knew it was going to be impossible to feel like I could go on at times. I knew the days would grow dark and sad. With all that it is still harder. I am sitting here in a messy house surrounded by Kleenex and cranky kids and I all I can do is sob. I don't know what to do.
Have you been there? So sad and overwhelmed you don't know the next step to take. That is where I am at.

Friday is what started the downward spin. I woke up to someone being offended by my blog. Hard because when I write it I am in another world of sorts. I get it all out and then often read it back through with the rest of you. It often feels like I have just had a great workout after I am done, exhausted but feeling better. I don't write to hurt others. The exact opposite really. I feel like if I am having these thoughts others must too.  I hesitated to even continue with the blog, but Dustin convinced me to continue.

Then mid-morning I had my six week post op check up. This was my first appointment without Dustin since it happened. The receptionist forgot to let my nurse know that  I was there immediately, so I had to wait a bit with a bunch of ladies about to pop and a couple of cute newborns. As much as it hurts, I do love seeing babies so  I was fine. Afterward, I picked up my hungry kids and went home. Let's just say they were less than perfect. By 3:30 I needed a margarita! Bad!

As soon as I sat down the phone rang. Dr. Mitchell. Maybe, I left something at the office? Nope. It was him calling me the autopsy results which ironically had been dropped on his desk during our appointment earlier that day. He offered us to come in. I said no and I wanted to hear them then. I grabbed the pen and pad we normally use for the grocery list. The results hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't expecting us to have any answers really especially that early. I knew they could be back as early as 4 weeks but when we didn't have them back at the 6 week appointment I thought it would be months before we would get the results. I heard the doctor state lots of big words. Some words I understood from my medical experience, some I did not. The words I understood: macrosomia (a big baby), ascites (fluid in the abdomen), cardiomegaly (enlarged heart). Then a word I didn't: hydrops fetalis. It basically means severe edema in babies that is often fatal. Liver had been dead for 4-7 days. Other organs showed a time of death of a week previous. So she died most likely on Thanksgiving or very close to. And then he read the a part of the summary that devastated me more than anything I have ever heard in my life...most likely caused from maternal diabetes.

I continued to talk but I collapsed mentally right there. I could handle if I went blind or lost a limb because of this stupid disease but NO not the death of my child!! It is more than I can handle. I have had diabetes for 22 years and really not a single complication and this has to be the fate of this horrible disease?!

The guilt consumes me. I haven't slept more than an hour since I found out. Logically, I understand that I didn't do anything intentionally to hurt her, but it still doesn't change that fact that if I didn't have diabetes she would most likely be alive. And YES I know God was ultimately in control and the guilt is the devil's way of seeping in. And NO I don't want to hear, maybe she would be worse off if she lived or that my life was spared for hers. I will find a way to deal with all this I am sure someday but for now it is just harder than I thought.

We spend Saturday afternoon placing flowers on Claudette Elyse's grave. It is all so surreal.