A Beautiful Calm.......

After 2002, our lives got into a beautiful rhythm, ebbs.....flows.....LOTS of smiles in 2004 after the birth of our son.  Life was good.

The Year Our Family Broke.......For The First Time

As any woman, who has struggled getting pregnant, can say, when you get that next positive test, you're secretly ecstatic and cautiously optimistic.  It was 2002.  Now that I was more educated in how the whole pregnancy biology comes to be, we waited until the third blood test before saying anything so as to make sure levels were rising and pregnancy was progressing.  I remember it was the day before my dad's birthday, so for my parents we got a Happy Birthday Grandpa card.  Took him a while to 'get it', but the smile on his face when he realized what was happening was golden.  We then took a ride to my father in law's house to give him the good news.  The hug and kiss I received, I swear I can still feel it to this day.  The love that was there was enormous and unwavering.  WE went home and were just having a nice evening.  I think we were watching a movie when the phone rang.  It was my father in law asking for my husband.  I had made a joke(as I always would) and my father in law gave a very stifled laugh and then I handed the phone to my husband.  I looked at my husband who went from very joyful to horrifically somber.  He hung up the phone and looked at me and blurted out " my sister, J, is dead".  My head started to spin.  It was like a blur after that.  The whole mourning process took on a new meaning as her life was snuffed out, yet there was new life within me.  (I am in tears writing this as the song "The First Time Ever I saw Your Face" is playing.  This was the song that I loved throughout this pregnancy.)  Moving on.  As a family, our grief ever so slowly ebbed and we moved on.  All seemed to relish now, the new life within me.  I loved being pregnant.  The butterflies of  movement, the cravings.  NOT the sickness, never the sickness.  It came time for the 20 week scan and all was looking well.  We didn't want to know what we were having, just that the baby was developing well.  There was one point during that scan that the tech hit a sore spot new the top of my belly that she quickly moved away from.  It was mentioned to the doc who didn't seemed concerned, so I breathed a sigh of relief.  They wanted to schedule me for what was called a level II scan which was to be on the 27th of November.  So we scheduled it and went about our day.  It was just about a week later, my husband had returned from a hunting trip.  He asked how I was feeling and I was like great(hungry).  He was exhausted.  I went upstairs to bed.  It was around 5 am or so when I woke up and had to pee.  My underwear was wet and I had thought I had an accident so I changed did my business and went back to bed.  I got a little alarmed, however, when shortly thereafter, I felt wet again.  Getting a bit scared, I called my OB's office and the answering service doctor seemed awfully concerned when I mentioned that I seem to be peeing my pants.  She wanted me to get to the hospital ASAP.  Hurriedly, I awoke my thoroughly exhausted husband and told him he NEEDED to get me to the hospital, we may have a problem.  We got there and I started to cry stating "I'm not supposed to be here until I deliver".  The nurses tried to calm me but it wasn't working.  The litmus paper test confirmed that I was leaking amniotic fluid.  I was barely at 22 weeks, the cusp of viability according to my doctor.  I was transported to a hospital that had a more equipped neonatal unit in case I delivered.  That gave me hope.  Although my water leaked, it was regenerating at the same time and the baby was moving great and the heart rate was normal.  I was kept there almost a week, when it was decided to let me go home, on very strict bed rest and to return to the hospital upon my 24th week for monitoring or possible delivery(depending on the circumstances).  So, I set up camp in my living room, which was only a few feet from the bathroom.  I only got up to use the facilities. I talked to the baby, saying that they had to keep growing and stay put.  Things were calm.....but that was before the storm.  After only being home about 2 days, I had started to bleed, which I knew was not good.  Back to the hospital which again, led to transport to that other facility.  Upon getting there, examination determined that now there was no fluid around the baby and that this was not good and I should consider aborting.  I was like, I most certainly will not(or words to that effect).  Fluid was still regenerating but much more slowly.  Also, I was still bleeding a bit(it was determined afterward my placenta was beginning to detach or abrupt). This hospital would be my home until I delivered, even if that meant at 24 weeks or to term.  Small goals were set. Make it to 24 weeks and things are good, we take it week by week.  That was our first goal.....24 weeks.  It was a Saturday and I was nearing 23 weeks.  Again I had hope, but it was fading.....quickly.  I was taken for an ultrasound and my husband and I immediately wanted to know what we were having.  We wanted to get to know this child.  It was a girl.  We named her and began talking to her and getting to know her better.  I was now confined to bed, no bathroom trips for me.  But because I had much difficulty using the dreaded bed pan, I had a very close bedside commode.  I was constantly hooked up to the fetal monitor, where my daughter's heart rate sounded like wonderful galloping horses.  Then, early Tuesday, it got quiet, too quiet.  The doctor was called in to examine me and discovered that the cord had prolapsed into the birth canal....it did not have a pulse.  My daughter had died in utero.  May I add that all throughout this time, I was advised to abort and i always denied it stating I'm leaving it in God's hands.  If she were to be born she would be disabled, severely.  My husband and I always stated, if that were to happen, we would have a daughter.  We didn't care if she was going to be disabled.  God must have need a little angel though and it took us a while, a very LONG while to accept that.  Now I was given the task of having to deliver her, which was the most painful(not physically), gut wrenching, heart aching thing I've ever had to to.  They gave me drugs to assist in the labor process but they were slow to work as I guess my body wasn't ready to deliver.  I seemed to take FOREVER.  I recall crying to my mother that I was "going to be pregnant with a dead baby forever".  I couldn't eat or sleep.  They finally took the monitor off and shut the machine down.  It was late that same day, around 6:45 where I shouted at my husband I needed more pain meds(I regret so much that I was so rude to him) and as he went to get the nurse, I felt something drop in me.  The nurses came in and realized that the 'drop' I felt was my daughter in the birth canal.  The doctor came in and advised me to push.  I did and she assisted and within moments, our daughter was 'born'.  Dummy me asked the nurse if that was just the cord.  She quietly stated 'no honey, you delivered'.  I screamed and cried.  I later heard from my husband that the nurses and doctor were crying as well.  They took her and cleaned her as best they could and wrapped her like they would any newborn and brought her to us.  She looked perfect, to me. Ten fingers, 10 toes.  So tiny.  She had some physical "wounds' if you will from not have fluid and her little jaw looked dislocated(the nurse kindly and very gently put it in place).  I held her and my husband held her, though not for very long and both of us were beyond heartbroken.  THAT is the biggest regret I have, not holding her longer.  I told her I loved her and that I was so very sorry that I failed her.  Later that evening, a very nice priest came by and baptized her.  Then a beautiful oval painted box was presented to us.  We thought it was a coffin, of sorts.  But it was a beautiful memory box specially made for parents who lost a child.  It contained pictures taken of our daughter dressed in a pretty yellow doll dress, lovingly covered in a pink handmade blanket, posed as best they could so that we would have photos of our girl.  There were birth stats such as height and weight among other things.  Honestly, at that time, I wanted nothing to do with it at all.  The depression really sank in.  I still wouldn't eat, why should I, I wasn't pregnant anymore.  We didn't even reach the 24 weeks first goal...she was born at 23 weeks and 2 days.