November 6, 2013
The meeting was today. Finally. And they were very… compassionate. And we discussed the “what”.
The full autopsy report wasn’t in yet. But the preliminary report was. The placenta was small, first percentile. But Sofia was small, too. Not first percentile small, but still small. There was some hypercoiling in the umbilical cord. Why wasn’t any of this noted in any of my multiple ultrasounds?
And the meeting didn’t help. I don’t feel better. I don’t feel as though doing anything different would have resulted in a different outcome. Quite the opposite. I am angry. I am… so very, very angry.
I told them that I felt like I needed help when I was pushing. They asked what sort of help. What sort of help? You know, the helping kind of help. I don’t know what sort of help. I needed help. I knew it was taking too long. But I trusted them. So I didn’t say anything. At least not after the first hour. Or rather, I did say something after the first hour, and I was told that everything was fine, that pushing for an hour was normal. So I trusted them. For a second hour. And a third. And a fourth. And a fifth. Why didn’t someone say that they were concerned? Why didn’t anyone else say they felt like it had been too long?
Because, you know what, if the placenta being small and the hypercoiling in the umbilical cord both mean that Sofia might not have had the best circulation during the stress of labor, then doing something to help me deliver her faster would have helped. And I know. We’ll never know if that’s really true.
But what I wanted to hear was that there was nothing anyone could have done. And that’s not true. Sofia was perfect. She should be here with me now. But she’s not.
And for all of the “what” that they were able to give, that’s not the question I want answered.