This is a hard post to write, but I know I need to write it. (Everything is fine, right now, everything is fine – I feel like I need to preface every post with that.)
Normally I have my ultrasounds and my OB visits on the same day, but due to the holidays that wasn’t possible this time. So I had my ultrasound, which I posted about, and then the next morning was my OB visit. We discussed my cerclage and set a date (December 22). The doctor took some cultures, “just in case.” And then she wanted to check my cervix, just to make sure it’s still firm.
And it’s still okay – were it really bad, I’d already have that cerclage in. But, to quote the doctor, my cervix simply “doesn’t have that oomph” that you’d expect at this early stage. It’s not soft yet, but it’s not firm, either. It’s not how it’s supposed to be. And that’s kind of scary, but there’s so much more.
They were never able to sort out what happened to Amy. Did I have an infection? Incompetent cervix that led to labor? Preterm labor that led to dilation? No one knows which of these things came first, and so all were reasonable conclusions. So the plan this time was, I guess, to sort of preventatively treat for all of them. My high-risk doctor was convinced it was incompetent cervix, but it was impossible to prove as I didn’t present in the typical fashion. And so we came to the cerclage decision, something I eventually decided I was willing to do because I’d hate to need it and not have it, but I wondered constantly, is this necessary? Am I just adding on trouble?
And now we have proof, a second time around, here is my cervix, malfunctioning. Not colossally, not galactically, but it’s not how it’s supposed to be, and that combined with my history makes the answer, finally, obvious: incompetent cervix. That’s why Amy’s no longer with us. A random, rare condition that we had no reason to suspect or check for. Nothing we could have done differently. It wasn’t my fault, really and truly and 100% there is nothing that could have been changed.
And that’s a relief. A huge weight off, really. But it’s also so fucking sad. There is supposed to be something you can do. Babies don’t just DIE, for no reason, due to stupid rare conditions no one would have any reason to look for. They shouldn’t, anyway, but they do, and mine did, and knowing why gives us sudden closure, but it’s also unlocked another grief treasure chest. This is why our baby died.
The worst part is that it’s supposed to be worse every time. Cerclage and careful monitoring the only treatment. I sure as hell hope it works.