Mom to Olivia Sky
Born May 7, 2011-Went back with her angels May 7, 2011
Santa Fe, New Mexico
“Come under cover of night and I’ll waiting
I’ll be biding my time, just to see you again
But please, don’t ask me questions
Cause you may not like what the answers might be”
“Let’s not speak of faith
We’ll tell only lies
Here, love is what you might find…”
Steve Reynolds “Cover of Night”
I had a feeling that I wasn’t able to get pregnant, but then again in the past, I never intentionally tried to. I was busy finishing my school, my goals and my fun that I still wanted to have.
I was in Oklahoma City visiting my mother for the Christmas holiday last year and I have this memory of a conversation that we had about babies. “Are you going to ever have kids?” “Are you ok if you don’t?” My mom asked.
I replied nonchalantly, “Mom if I don’t have kids this time around, I’ll give birth to other things in my life.” What I didn’t know was that I was already pregnant, a little baby inside of me, growing fast. When I finally took a test after the New Years I was shocked, but I was so happy. I was excited and I was grateful. I knew that this was a miracle in so many ways and I was ready.
I started to bleed around the 2nd month of pregnancy. I was in and out of the emergency rooms, checking to make sure that the baby was still inside of me, growing where it was suppose to, hearing the heartbeat, just making sure. The doctors had no real reason as to why I was bleeding or if I would miscarry. We would just have to wait and see and that’s what we did. Finally, the bleeding stopped and I was relieved. I had in my mind that as long as we passed the 3-month mark, everything should be fine. If I would miscarry, it would be then. If there were any problems with the fetus, my body would know within that time frame and it would do what it was going to do.
The months passed on and each day my stomach was growing. It was now to the point where I definitely was pregnant. I was elated, I was hungry all the time, peeing all the time, and it was going perfect. She was growing perfectly, no issues, no signs of trouble.
Thursday afternoon I had an appointment with my midwife, she measured, we talked, she checked my urine, she felt my belly, heard her heartbeat. She was doing great.
Friday morning I woke up. My water broke. It all went downhill from the there. In the emergency room they confirmed that I also had an infection. No one really had any clear answers. They just suggested that I might lose her. I didn’t believe them. “She may be too young to live on her own, prepare for the worse.” I was transferred to a hospital that was better equipped to handle my situation. It got worse, I had a fever that came and went, I started to have regular contractions, the moments began to blur. Conversations, my thoughts, my panic, my fears were all a blur. I delivered. She was too premature to even attempt to save. Her lungs were underdeveloped, she was trying to breathe and she couldn’t. She stayed with us a little over 5 minutes and passed in her daddy’s arms. I kept her next to me for the rest of the day. She was dead, I knew that, but I wanted her with me for as long as I could have her physically. I kissed her, I held her, and I talked with her. She was perfect in every way, her feet, her hands, her nose everything. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand.
It’s been 7 months since she has moved on. If you would of asked me then if I thought losing her was an option I would have told you “No way”. Writing this now, I’m able to leave out some of my emotions, my anger and my grief. I was pissed at God. I was angry, my body, it failed me, it failed my daughter. I was consumed with sadness and grief and thoughts of sitting down where I was and never getting up. The “what if’s” tormented me day and night. I didn’t want to get up and move on. I didn’t want to hear “that things just happen for a reason”. I didn’t want to hear “ you have an angel in heaven”. Shut the FUC*** UP people! My family and friends said the most ridiculous things to me as I walked around, everything that meant anything, ripped from me. I rolled my eyes as well intentioned comments on loss and grief were thrown at me. Theories of karma were overheard in casual conversations. I wanted to punch them out. No one knew what I went through. No one felt what I felt yet they wanted to talk about karma and debt and insensitive crap. They really thought they were helping me or shedding new light on something that I obviously had missed. So here I am, 7 months later. I am still sad; the tears come and go, sometimes triggered sometimes not. I’m not angry at god anymore, I am thankful that my faith kept me out of the mental ward. Even though I was mad as hell and cussing him out, on some level I knew there was a bigger plan playing out. It kept me from going crazy from my loss, from going into that “dark night of the soul” and never coming back to life. I think of her everyday, I talk to her everyday, I refuse to think that she’s not still part of me or my life. She is, and when I am quiet enough I can feel her with me. We will be forever connected.
I know that I am not the only person to experience this sort of loss. I know it happens everyday, our babies dying in our arms, in our wombs and the world still moving on. I don’t know the answers to hard questions that I still have about life and death. I can tell you that I am sorry for your loss. I mean that from the bottom of my soul. I know that you will feel like you are the only one with this pain, this sadness, this anger, this loss, and the confusion. You are not alone. Even though you may not feel that, it’s ok. I think its part of our journey. Music and poetry has deeper meaning to me now. Poems on sadness, on broken hearts, on grief, on giving up hope, on being lost come alive for me in front of my eyes. The world isn’t so “dead”. Emotions are raw; everyone’s loss becomes my own loss. I feel more than I ever have before and I don’t fight it. I let it move through me no matter how painful it becomes. I surrender to the pain of my loss, to my baby girl, to all of life, just as it is. If you are reading this I hope you find an outlet for your grief. Whether its music, art, journaling, long walks, or days in bed sobbing. Just let it out. Our precious babies are forever connected to us. Talk to them, sound like a crazy person, who cares anymore. The worst has already happened. What possibly else could happen to you or be taken from you? Nothing. You have experienced the most heart wrenching devastating loss that a woman can feel. A mother losing her child, embrace it. I am sorry that we have lost our babies too soon and I hope you have loved ones to carry you when you feel that you cannot go another step in this world. My prayers and love to you all.
R.I.P Olivia Sky, mom misses you tremendously.
Bianca Blogs at oliviasky.blogspot.com
You can contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org