I posted before about the other girl in our family here that is/was pregnant at the same time as me - the one that I shared a baby shower with. She's been a month ahead of me in gestation and this past week was her time to deliver. Thursday she went into labor, did her thing, pushed her baby out into this world and the doctor, the doctor delivering her baby, dropped him.
The doctor dropped her baby boy on his head before he even cut the chord. She heard it but couldn't see and asked panicked "Was that my baby!?" The doctor tried to lie and told her no, that it was the placenta and that the baby wasn't out yet. The placenta doesn't deliver till about 30 minutes after a baby - and did so - so she knew something had happened.
Little perfect Angelito lived for about a day and died on Friday. We had to bury him this Saturday and it, well it's just indescribable. I bawled inconsolably for about 24 hours and my poor husband was half panicked thinking I was going to stress myself into early labor. I don't know what came over me, I'm not usually so crazy emotional but I imagine it's something to do with the baby I'm carrying myself and the fact that the little boy she was going to grow up with is already gone. The other girl and I went through all of our first-time-prego-stuff together but for the life of me and as sad as I am I can't IMAGINE what this has got to be like for her. It surprises me that she's even breathing.
And people ask me why I don't just have my baby in Mexico and fix her papers later? In the U.S. if a doctor dropped a baby on it's head I imagine they would at least DO something to save it. They've got things to do and medicines to give if a brain is swelling inside the skull don't they? I know they do.
I felt like a big elephant in the room when we all gathered before the funeral. I've got a grand pregnant belly running around in front of me and we all know that I'll be delivering myself in the weeks to come. His family knows that I'll be delivering in the BEST hospital around over on the Texas side and I can't help but feel. . . not guilty, but some sort of guilt-ish emotion you know?
He was a big healthy beautiful baby boy. They had an open casket and I'll never in my life forget how he looked laying there. Never ever.