Kelly

Mom to Mirayah Michelle

Stillborn July 5, 2012 at 38 weeks

Shawnee, Oklahoma

My husband, Matt, and I discovered we were pregnant on November 7th, 2011. We have one son that I had from a previous relationship, and Matt adopted him. This would be our first child together. We were over the moon and filled with joy and excitement. My sister was also pregnant and was given the due date of June 30th while mine was July 17th. My sister and I were so excited to share the experience of pregnancy and raising our babies together.

On February 3rd, 2012, we found out we would be having a daughter. We had both always wanted a daughter, and we were going to be blessed with one! We chose to name her Mirayah Michelle. We found that many people had trouble pronouncing this correctly, but we didn’t care. We thought it was beautiful (Mur-Ray-Uh). As my pregnancy progressed, we grew more and more anxious and excited to hold our new baby girl. My pregnancy was a text book pregnancy. She looked perfect on every ultrasound, her heart beat was strong at every appointment and on my home Doppler, and I had no complications during the pregnancy. We scheduled my repeat c-section for July 11th.  On July 4th, my husband, son and I went out to celebrate the holiday. We watched a late night firework show. After we got home, we put Cayden to bed, and Matt and I stayed up until 130 am watching Mirayah move. We were having so much fun watching my belly move in crazy ways. She was moving, she was healthy, and we were thrilled that there were only 6 days until her arrival! We finally went to bed, because we had to be up early for our last doctor appointment before the delivery. I remember waking up two or three times during sleep due to Mirayah’s hard kicks.

We never dreamed that July 5th, 2012 would be end up being the worst day of our lives…

After working out the details of the delivery at the appointment, my doctor used the Doppler to listen to Mirayah’s heart beat. It was silent. They have never had trouble finding her heart beat before. Panic ran through my veins. I am an RN and I KNOW this is not right…38 weeks is too far along to have trouble finding a heartbeat. My doctor tried to stay reassuring and said, “Okay, let just have an ultrasound to see what position she is in.” I could feel the color drain out of my face as the doctor left the room to turn on the machine. My husband said, “Don’t worry, everything is fine.” I knew it wasn’t. My doctor quickly pulled us into the ultrasound room. He scanned over our lifeless baby girl checking for any spontaneous movement. I saw him scan the heart, and I asked, “That is her heart isn’t it?” to which he replied, “I am so sorry.” All I remember is my husband asking, “What? What are you talking about?” as I could barely get out, “She is dead, Matt. Mirayah is dead!” Our whole world came crashing down. We sat in that office holding each other, our son and sobbing, “Please God, no,” for what seemed like hours. We managed to somewhat pull ourselves together enough to go over our options. We decided to do the c-section that evening.

I had worked at the labor and delivery unit that I was to deliver at. I quit in May for another job opportunity. The entire staff was shaken by our devastating news and several said, “It is hard when this happens to our patients, but it so devastating when it happens to one of our own.” We arrived at the hospital around 4 pm. I saw the delivery nurse and my friend, Deana, and I just fell into her arms crying. She took us to our room, started my IV, and started fluids to prepare me for the delivery. After a few hours, they were ready for me. During the delivery, the song that my husband and I danced to at our wedding came on the radio and played until Mirayah was out. Later, we both discussed that we both felt that it was Mirayah telling us to keep our marriage strong and rely on each other to get through this devastating loss. I remember looking up at my husband’s eyes and seeing how they were such a stunning blue filled with tears. The nurses took her away before we saw her to bathe and dress her. I later found out that my mom and sister were given the opportunity to be the ones to do this.

Deana brought us our beautiful baby girl. She was absolutely perfect in every way, except she was not alive. Her color was perfect, and she looked like she was just sleeping. You wouldn’t know she was dead except for the fact that she felt so cold and lifeless. We spent that night and some of the next day with her, just looking at our baby girl, kissing her all over, and holding her for the only time we ever would. We kept staring at her wondering what went wrong after we went to bed after the fireworks. There are no indications as to what caused her death…”unexplained fetal death”. Saying goodbye to her and kissing her forehead for the last time were the hardest things I have ever had to do. On July 6th, we called the nurse in to take her away. I hugged her to my chest for the last time and handed her over. Matt and I just held each other and cried for hours. Her service was July 9th, and I was a complete mess through the whole thing. We decided to have our baby girl cremated. We each have cremation pendent necklaces that hold a portion of her ashes. It is comforting to have her with me at all times. We also each got memorial tattoos for her.

I did not leave the house for days after her death. When I did finally get out of the house, my mind was stuck in the delivery room. I felt like a zombie, or a robot, just going through the moves of life. I still feel like that on my “bad days”. I am lost in my own little world of hurt and missing my daughter. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. It has been 73 days since we lost our Mirayah, and the pain is not any less than it was the day we found out she died. I cry every day for her, for what was, and for what could have been. This is, by far, the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with.  I do have days where I ALMOST feel normal. I have days that are easier to get through, but the pain and this large hole in my heart is always there. I find it very difficult to be around pregnant friends, my sister and nephew. My nephew will always be a reminder of what should have been with my daughter. The pain is just too raw and deep right now. I know that one day I will be ok to be around them, but today I am not. I know that my job in the NICU will be difficult to do, but I am hopeful that I can help other families through loss. I also know that this experience will make me a more compassionate nurse.

Every day is a struggle to get through. Every day is a new battle. I hold tight to the hope that we will see her again, and that we will have more children in the mean time. I am thankful for life, and I am so blessed to have a caring and understanding family, a wonderfully supportive husband, my son, and a God that will carry me until I can walk on my own again.

You can contact Kelly at K.Waller12@yahoo.com, or on Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=hp#!/K.Waller12.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Comments

  1. Kelly, I am so sorry for your loss. I lost my son, Josiah, on September 12, 2000. I have said a prayer for you that God would bring you comfort and peace, and that you would hold your daughter again in heaven some day.

  2. Catherine says:

    Kelly – I am so sorry for the loss of your precious and beautiful daughter, Mirayah. My thoughts are with you today. I lost my son just a couple weeks after you lost your daughter. He was also stillborn.

  3. Shannon says:

    Kelly – I am so sorry you lost Mirayah. I lost my son, Alfy, at at 28 weeks in April, he was also stillborn with an unexplained cause. My sister had a little boy in January. We went through the excitement of thinking we would raise our kids so close in age. It’s okay to take time away from them. My sister was married this past weekend, it was the second time I had seen her and my nephew since Alfy was born. It’s wonderful, but incredibly hard. Do what you need to do for you right now.

    In my thoughts and prayers,
    Shannon

  4. Alex says:

    Kelly,
    I truly feel your pain. I read your story and it was like reading everything I feel and that my family are going through. On August 9 th we lost our little boy Will at 37 weeks. He too was an active little man throughout the pregnancy and even on his vey last day in this world. Every inch of our body longs to hold him in our arms again. We struggle to understand where or how things could suddenly go so wrong. The days and nights are just a blur. I send you and your precious ones a huge hug from the opposite side of the globe in Australia. Stay strong and I pray that one day we will be able to hold our little ones in heaven.

  5. Connie says:

    Hi Kelly,
    I’m so sorry for your loss. Unfortunately there are too many of us who are part of this unwanted club. I too lost my daughter, Gabriella on July 7th. She was 36 weeks and perfectly healthy throughout the pregnancy. We have no answers for her death and that part is really hard to deal with. Some days are better than others but I miss her terribly each day. I have found some comfort in connecting with other families in the same situation.
    My thoughts are with you and your family.

  6. brianna alton says:

    im sorry for your loss. :( im 16 and i lost a baby at 26 weeks and at 38 weeks. its very hard.

Show Your Support

*

Blog Archive

Graphic Design by


© 2011 Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope | PO Box 26131 | Minneapolis, MN 55426 | Contact Us