I honestly don’t know how I survived the next month.
I had been so excited about the tiny life forming inside of myself, I had gotten a jump start on my OB and PEDs textbook, even though the semester didn’t start until May 20th. I had read the weeks in order of what my baby was going through. Tiny fingers forming, a heart beginning to beat…
The hardest thing I ever had to do was pick up that textbook again.
I had to study the very thing I had just lost, read about “spontaneous abortions,” and study the development of a fertilized egg to a full-grown baby. I cried into my textbook as I begged my husband to just let me quit.
A semester off was all I needed. I promised him.
He wouldn’t let me quit, wouldn’t give up on me, or let me give up on myself.
"Three. More. Weeks. You. Can. Do. This."
I didn’t believe him then, but I believe him now.
I’ve been a nurse for nearly 7 months now. Losing Hunter was the hardest thing I ever endured. I thought it would kill me. There were times I wanted it to. Days I didn’t feel like living…
I threw myself into my new career, and holding onto the hope that even though I couldn’t save my baby, his life, I could help save another. And I did just that. I spent my days learning the ins and outs of nursing. Heck, I”m still learning, but doing something, being good to someone, feeling needed, was good for me. It was a blessing to be able to get up and help someone else on the worst day of their life, hoping I might brighten it a little.
No, every patient didn’t appreciate me and my efforts, but the ones that did… they made it all worthwhile.
Losing Hunter was hard for me, it was humbling for me. I never thought I’d be “that girl,” the poor girl whose baby died before it even had the chance to live. But I became her, and I persevered.
I’m a better person, better wife, better stepmom, and better nurse because of it.