Needless to say, losing Isaac has left my husband and I feeling helpless. I have been lucky thus far in life. I have lost just one grandparent and one great uncle that I was especially close to. Other than those two losses, I haven’t had to deal with the death of anyone particularly close to me. Both of those men died from illnesses but lived full and happy lives prior to their deaths. Neither of them was robbed of life’s many joys before leaving us. I was heartbroken by both losses, but I didn’t feel them nearly so intensely as I do with Isaac.
There are a number of differences that I know make this feel so distinct. I carried Isaac and he felt like an extension of myself. He also never got to experience all of the highs and lows that come with life. He never got to experience anything except my belly. While I know that Isaac’s death isn’t directly my fault, it does feel like some sort of failure on my part. I failed to bring Isaac into this world alive, and, as a result, I will never hold him again. I tried my hardest to do everything right in my pregnancy with Isaac. I exercised, I ate well and I followed my doctors’ instructions exactly. We sill lost him.
Other than challenging my doctor when he told me abnormal symptoms were normal, there wasn’t anything else I could have done. This is a difficult thing to accept for me. I’m not used to problems that I can’t fix. I haven’t really encountered issues like this before. I would do anything in the world to bring Isaac back, but no amount of effort could do that. Until now, if I put in the effort, I could accomplish just about anything I wanted to. I’m not saying that I always have put in the effort, but I could always look back and identify certain things I should have done (and generally knew that I should have done) to achieve some desired outcome. In many cases, I was still able to fix any undesirable outcome. Grades could almost always be improved, writing could be edited, and I could work harder to accomplish almost anything I wanted.
I have a lot of resentment towards my doctor at the moment. I keep finding myself wanting to ask why he chose to brush off my concerns and to ignore my elevated blood pressure. It’s as if knowing why he didn’t think my symptoms were important will somehow make our loss make more sense. However, it does not ultimately matter. I could rehash every step of my medical care and interrogate my doctor at length. It will not change the fact that Isaac is gone. I do realize how obvious this sounds. I can’t bring Isaac back. I can’t go back in time to the moment I so often relive, the moment where I wish I had insisted the doctor recheck my blood pressure. I cannot fix this problem, this failure. It’s a pretty terrible feeling.
At some point, I am going to have to figure out how to let go of the “what ifs”, the “could haves”, the “should haves”, and the “would haves”. I will have to accept that Isaac cannot be brought back. I will have to let go of the anger I feel towards the doctor. I’m just not sure when I will be up to that task.
Letters to Isaac 
I can 100% relate to ALL of this. I remember the night we got home after leaving the hospital just crying to my husband blaming myself for what happened feeling like a horrible mother and that I had failed my daughter. Even today things will pop up in my head and the big F word hits. I too had anger towards my doctor and it took a lot of time (still working on it) to not look back at all the ifs and haves because I knew that if I stayed there it would halt any progress in my grief. Take your time be gentle with yourself that day will come. Maybe not today but it will come 🙂
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Thanks, Crystal. I just can’t believe that I asked my doctor about obvious symptoms of preeclampsia and had a BP in the preeclampsia range and he didn’t say anything but “totally normal.” My untreated preeclampsia became severe preeclampsia, which then progressed to HELLP Syndrome. It could have killed me, and the resulting full abruption 3 weeks after that doctor’s appointment killed sweet Isaac. It’s so hard to know the moment that it all went wrong and not be able to go back and yell at the doctor until he rechecked my BP or at least told me what signs to look out for.
I know I need to accept that being angry about it can’t fix anything. I know I’ll get to a point of setting aside the anger eventually. For now, it just torments me.
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You have every right to feel that way look at what you have gone through! I think it’s incredibly unprofessional for the Doctor to just dismiss what was going on with you when it was such a serious matter. I’ve always said I HATE that I had to lose my daughter to get better care and that only until that happens (most of the time) you are considered high risk and more closely watched and taken more serious. I mentioned to my husband just the other day that there shouldn’t have been any reason why Averie wasn’t with us right now. That familiar sting came up and I had to do everything my power to get rid of it. You are not alone in this feeling and with everything else when it comes to grief it’s ok to embrace it and work through it. You don’t need to accept anything until you are ready too ❤
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I can totally relate too and I’m trying to deal with the feeling that I’ve failed my son, my body failed my son, it’s so tough. It’s ok to be angry if that’s how you feel. Perhaps you’ll feel less angry another day, but it’s ok to feel however you feel xx
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Isn’t the anger weird? It comes and goes for sure.
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This is relevant & totally relatable . Sending kindness & love to you . Our whole hearted sympathy with u guys . U are a positive women and I wish u stay strong . I know how difficult it is for u to relate all those things here . My lips are sealed . All I can say is , I’m here for u now . Thanks for sharing this article . Very valuable indeed
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Thank you – I really appreciate the support.
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I too am a weeping mother . And I wish your pain subsides soon . Take care .
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I’m sorry that you are going through this as well. It’s a comfort , however, to not be alone.
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