Stomach Pains and Vomiting

At 2 a.m. this morning, I woke up with a terrible stomachache. 

I went to our downstairs couch because I didn’t want to disturb my husband, who never gets enough sleep.  As I lay there, I remembered that I’d had the same stomach pain for several hours late Wednesday night and Thursday morning, which at the time I’d assumed was from something I’d eaten when my husband, 4-year-old and I went out to dinner earlier that evening. 

I have a very sensitive stomach and can literally be sick—diarrhea sick—within minutes of eating food that doesn’t agree with me.

This morning, as I tried to find a couch position in which I could cope with my stomach pains, I considered my symptoms, then recognized that they are peculiar:  If my stomach is upset, I get sick and get on with it.  But, that wasn’t what happened on Wednesday night and Thursday morning.  I’d just been in pain for hours, until it eventually subsided.

And, based on the doctor’s analysis of the ultrasound pictures of Baby B’s tiny dead body on Friday morning, he had died recently, within the past few days. 

So, I started to think that perhaps he had died on Wednesday night and Thursday morning, that my abnormal stomach cramps were the sign.

And, this morning, I was having the exact same symptoms, the never-ending stomachache with no diarrhea, which is how my body reacts to stomach upset. 

So, I became frightened that this wasn’t a stomach problem at all, that maybe it was Baby A dying inside of me, just as his brother had done earlier this week.

I tried to shove the thoughts away.  I reminded myself that Baby A looks strong, that five ultrasounds have shown that he is “on target,” “within range for his gestational age,” “perfect,” “staking out his territory,” and so on.  I reminded myself that Baby A is the way the in vitro fertilization (IVF) coordinator, the ultrasound technician and the doctor on Friday have all tried to console me for Baby B, when his gestational sac was separating from my uterine lining up front, then when he had no heartbeat on Friday.

I know they have all been trying to help, but Baby A thriving doesn’t make up for Baby B’s loss. 

If I lose Baby A too, it will be double the pain, for they were our two children, two separate and distinct sons of my husband’s and mine. 

Knowing how I feel about Baby B’s death, I can’t conceive of how I’ll cope if Baby A dies too. 

So, early this morning, I tried to reassure myself, but instead ended up vomiting worse than ever before in my life.  I’d had grilled cheese for dinner, nothing that would upset my stomach, but it all came up, until I was dry heaving.

I’d closed our bathroom door and put on the fan, but my poor husband heard me anyway.  He came in and was so worried, because I never get sick like this; in fact, I’ve never gotten sick like this.

I feel calm today, recognizing that the duplication of symptoms could mean that Baby A has died, my uterus is trying to absorb Baby B, or I simply had an unusually severe stomachache.

Now, I just have to wait until my appointment on Friday morning to see if this morning’s fears were based on reality, that Baby A was dying.

I hope not.  Oh, how I hope not.

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