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Briana
Mother of Sarraine Adaire Huffman
09-12-2018
Las Vegas, NV
 
It was Sunday, February 18 2018. I found out that my boyfriend and I, after 8 years together, were expecting our first baby. We were of course very excited. We both wanted a boy but just couldn’t wait to find out who our little bean would grow up to be. April 16th we had our ultrasound done and off we went to our gender reveal. Our close friend set everything up for us and my boyfriend shot at a little box and there it was, pink powder everywhere. A girl! My beautiful baby girl. I was excited, I get to play dress up again! My pregnancy was great, except for the gestational diabetes. We had monitoring twice a week at a high risk center. Everything was looking good, her heart rate was always so great. She was active, my little kicker. We had an ultrasound on a Tuesday and monitoring again on Thursday. As always everything was fine. So I thought.

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Courtney
Mom to Canaan Ryan
9-18-18
Asheville, North Carolina

My husband and I met in October 2016 and were married September 2017. He is my very best friend and I thank God for him daily.

On Mother’s Day 2018 I was sitting in church listening to the preacher talk about mothers. I would almost swear I heard the Lord say “this is your first Mother’s Day”. I tried to brush it off but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to be at work after church so I decided to take a test while I was there. To my surprise it was positive. Followed by 15 more positives. When I got home I of course told my husband. To say he was excited would be a lie. We hadn’t been married that long. We had just bought a house and a new car. His thoughts went straight to how can we afford to take care of a baby. We schedule our first appointment with the dr. When we go we find out we are for sure pregnant and schedule our ultrasound appointment. Baby’s approximate due date was January 17, 2019.
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La’Porchia
Mom to Jyson
June 15, 2018
Rock Hill, South Carolina

Being a mother is a role that you simply have to experience to truly know what it is like. There is nothing anyone can prepare you for or help you relate to. Although the road has been quite bumpy, being a mother is one of my greatest joys. My name is La’Porchia. I am 31 years old and I am a mother of two. My daughter is 11 and my son is 5. We reside in Rock Hill, South Carolina. After I gave birth to my son, I was not jumping at the chance to have more children as he is very active and drives me nuts with his never-ending energy.

So, when my fiancé, June, and I found out we were expecting again, shocked is an understatement of how we felt. We were in the middle of wedding planning and had to push the date back as a result of the pregnancy. Everything was happening so fast around me. I was nearly finished with the first semester of my senior year in college and most days, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Nevertheless, we were excited about the baby. This pregnancy was very rough for me. I found myself vomiting every other day. No matter the dish, it seemed it made me sick which caused me not to gain much weight.

I had my first high blood pressure reading in 31 years during my 37-week appointment. I think it was in the 160 range. The doctor sent me to labor and delivery at the hospital to monitor my blood pressure. They monitored me for 2 hours. Before I was sent home, I was given a jug with the instructions to place all of my urine over the next 24 hours in the jug. This was to ensure there was no protein in my urine. The results showed my urine had no protein. When I reached my 38-week mark, I was OVER being pregnant but anxious to meet my little one. We had finally decided to name him Jyson Louis Davis.

I had my 38-week appointment and my pre-op appointment on the same day. I had a scheduled c-section for the following Thursday. At this appointment, they checked the baby’s heartbeat and my blood pressure and everything was great! So…how is it that the very next day, I am at the hospital and the nurses are telling me that they can’t find my baby’s heartbeat. At first, I thought it was Jyson being stubborn but I soon learned that something was very wrong. The pain that I thought were contractions were just my body telling me that something was wrong. As my fears turned into tears, all I heard was apologies from the nurse.

At this point, I can hardly control my crying because I am nearly sobbing. I am then told that my blood pressure has skyrocketed and they are rushing me into emergency surgery. I cannot begin to explain the emptiness and sadness that I felt when the doctor confirmed that Jyson did not survive. He was 6 lbs 8 oz and did I mention he was gorgeous? He was. Everything about him was perfect. My placenta ruptured. Supposedly, it was preeclampsia. Just like that, he was gone. The date and time of death was Friday, June 15, 2018 at 10:35 pm.

How could I not know that something was wrong? How could the doctors not detect preeclampsia during the numerous doctor’s visits? How is it fair that God allows so many unfit parents to continue to bear children but He took our son away? How could everything be great yesterday and be snatched away in an instant today? I had so many questions and not enough answers. As I held him, I felt so empty. It seemed I had run out of tears in that moment. I felt sad for my children who were anxious to have a little brother to play with. I felt sad for June because I know he was just as devastated as I was. I felt sad for my family who was so excited about the new addition to our family.

Meanwhile, I am told that I almost died along with my son and I am baffled of how could all of this be happening without any warning signs. Whether I chose to accept it or not, my son was dead and we were forced to pick up the pieces of our lives that weren’t scattered about and live. Even with the love and support of others, I found myself crying some nights when everyone had gone home and there was nothing left to deal with but the pain in my heart. I was so angry!! It seems that since Jyson’s passing, I hear good news concerning babies or see so many baby-related ads and it makes me sad. A very good friend of mine had her baby the day after I was supposed to have Jyson and I saw it on social media. Seeing that cut me so deep because I felt robbed. I texted her and congratulated her while my eyes were filled with tears and my heart was filled with pain. It is so hard seeing someone love on their little one when yours has been taken away.

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http://facesofloss.com/2018/09/8725.html

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Trista

Mom to Audrina Marie

March 23, 2018

Rice, Minnesota

On November 24th, 2017, I found out my ultimate dream was coming true. In April, Aaron and I would welcome a daughter into our family. I can’t describe in words the joy I felt in that moment the ultrasound tech told me it was a girl. A thousand dreams flooded my mind…. little girl dresses, tea time and tiaras, tutu’s, pig tails, ponies, ballet slippers, mother daughter excursions like baking or going to the craft fair the list just goes on. The next day which happened to be Thanksgiving, I woke up feeling extra blessed. We were so excited to share the amazing news with our family on such a fitting day. The next week or so we spent living on cloud nine while imagining how our lives would soon change as we welcomed our daughter, Audrina Marie into the world.

Monday, December 4th, it all came crashing down on us. My level two ultrasound revealed a few markers for skeletal dysplasia. The ultrasound tech said, “it looks like a lethal type of dwarfism.” I jumped out of my skin and into shock. This can’t be real, I’m in a nightmare and I just need to wake up. I can’t even process the information. Doctors refer us to specialists at Abbott Northwest to get a second opinion. We stayed hopeful for two days and then our hearts dropped after meeting with specialists in the cities. Doctors seemed to confirm what St. Cloud had found and suggested we do an amniocentesis. We moved forward quickly hoping to get some answers.

The next month was an emotional roller-coaster from hell. We remained hopeful that Audrina would prove the Doctors wrong. We prayed, oh god did we ever pray. I tried to keep the faith and imagine her with us despite what the experts were saying. Our faith train fizzled out after receiving the most heartbreaking news with the genetic counselor at Abbott Northwest. The results from our amniocentesis came back positive identifying the FGFR3 genetic mutation code consistent with the diagnosis for Thanatophoric Dysplasia. Our worst nightmare.

The condition would mean our baby girl would likely die of respiratory failure at birth. Even now after months of processing and grieving, I still cry at the thought of meeting her and feeling so helpless knowing I have to let her go. I know the next few months are going to be tough, and even harder after we have to say goodbye. Right now, all I can do is enjoy her kicking inside me, and love her while she is here with me. Inside there, she is safe, loved and free of all harm. She is a blessing regardless of the situation I face. Even though it would be so easy to be angry with God, I can only thank him for giving me a daughter. Audrina Marie, my angel baby. My dream really did come true, just in a different way. We will still love her for a lifetime. Even though her time here on earth will be short, our love for her will be eternal. [Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/05/8625.html

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Elizabeth
Mom to Grace Anne
 
February 25, 2018
Rocky Point, Long Island, New York

Life is made up of a bunch of fleeting moments. Some you catch hold of and can fully enjoy. Some fly by so fast they are a blur in your memory. Then there are the ones that change your life forever. These, I guess, you would call turning points. These moment change the direction you thought you were going, for good, bad or indifferent. Some of these moments come about on purpose, like getting married. Some happen as rights of passage, like graduation. Others happen, as a cruel act of fate. Our family recently suffered from one of these moments. It’s a moment in time where literally everything froze and then broke into thousands of little fragments. Shards of a direction that we wanted to travel, shards of a memory we wanted to embrace, shards of a life that was taken before it was given. 

February 5, 2018 will forever be our baby girl, Grace Anne’s day. I was 28 weeks and 6 days pregnant with our second little girl. Everything was going according to plan with our pregnancy. Two weeks prior we had heard a strong happy heart beat, I was sluggish and starting to swell but felt fine, and Grace was giving me little kicks here and there. We had been renovating the bedroom that would be Grace’s and our daughter Madelynn was super excited to be getting a baby sister to play with, feed, and teach things too. Our little family was growing by one more set of little feet and we were all anticipating her arrival, in May. Little did we know our world was going to change so quickly and devastatingly. 

February 21st, a 60-degree Wednesday, I took Maddie for a play date at the park with a few of her friends. I wasn’t super energetic and my ankles were still swollen, but I chalked it up to 6 busy work days as a server. I just needed rest. I went home that night and did just that. Put my feet up and rested on the couch. Thursday came and went without much to note. Friday and Saturday I was back at work. It wasn’t overly busy but I was moving. When I got home Saturday night I was pretty swollen in my legs and ankles and super tired. I had noticed that in the busyness of work I really hadn’t taken a second to feel Grace moving. So when I sat down I had some soda and ice cream to see if I could get her going. It was the first time that week that I, not only got a little time to think of just her but I panicked inside a little. I calmed myself down and told my husband I felt we should call the doctor Sunday morning. That phone call was the beginning of the end. Those days, looking back, should have been noticed by me more. I should have paid more attention to my sweet baby Grace. I should have felt my body wasn’t supporting her. I should have called sooner. I should have…

Sunday morning, woke up feeling better. I wasn’t swollen and had more energy. I put off calling the doctor because I felt good. Maddie had a birthday party and I had a baby shower to attend. Half way through the shower it hit me, I swelled up, I felt tired, and Grace hadn’t moved. I called my husband, who called the doctor, and I raced home. Still not thinking anything bad had happened to Grace, but felt like I might need to be monitored. I didn’t know why or what was wrong. I was just off. We left my 4-year old with my mom and went to the hospital. 

The first nurse came in with the fetal Doppler machine. She was talking with us about how I was feeling, so I didn’t even noticed she was having trouble finding the heartbeat. She excused herself and went to get the sonogram machine and the doctor.  The doctor started to poke around looking for the heartbeat. She had a small tight expression on her face, like she didn’t believe the picture. This is when time stopped ticking, voices became jumbled, faces a blur, and my whole world fragmented around me. I can vividly see the sonogram in my head, even though I never saw it. I can vividly see my husbands broken heart and face of disbelieve. I can vividly see every persons saddened face. Then she spoke the words, “I can’t find a heartbeat, I’m sorry, your baby is no longer with us.”

The sound of those words were like thousands of windows breaking at once. It was deafening and so lonely. I instantly felt isolated, empty, and alone. My husband was there, we were holding each other sobbing, the nurses and doctors were there, but my little angel was gone. The minutes after hearing those words were probably the longest in my life. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. Trying to wrap my head around my baby no longer breathing. I thought of a million questions. How long was she like that? Was she in pain? Why? What happened? Why did my body fail her? Why did I fail her? And then reality hit again, she had to come out, how was she going to come out? 

I felt like everything was in slow motion. Nurses and doctors coming in, moving us to a delivery room, calling our parents and siblings, it all seemed to be moving so slow around us. Our nurse, Jess, she stayed with us the whole night. She was supposed to leave but she didn’t and I was so thankful, I needed her. She kept me focused, helped explain decisions we had to make, and just helped me deal with everything I was going through. She contacted my actual doctor, Doctor W, because she knew I would feel better if my doctor could be there. Doctor W had just come home from a vacation with her family, but she drove right to the hospital to be by my side. She and Jess walked us through some tough decisions. We had to decide between labor or c-section, but since Grace was breached, the doctor was afraid of complications during delivery. So we went with c-section. We had to decide on an autopsy or not. How she would be buried? Or cremated. When and where? So many decisions that a mother and father should never have to face? I was shaking uncontrollably. My blood pressures were so high, I couldn’t stop crying and my head was just a mess. Nothing made sense. I was asking again, Why did this happen to my sweet baby? How did I not know? Then it was time, I was being walked down to the OR. This was it, my baby was coming out and I would never hear her cry.

Dr. W and Jess literally held my shoulders while I sat to get the spinal before the surgery. They worked together in the operating room to get baby Grace out as quick and smooth as possible. During the procedure my blood pressure sky rocketed. I was given some magnesium to control it. Jess stood by my husband and I trying to keep us both calm. Once Grace was out Jess asked me if I wanted to see her, I was so broken I just couldn’t bare the thought of seeing her. She took baby Grace and my husband to another room so he could be with Grace and came back to me. She told me how beautiful she is, with blond hair and the cutest little nose. Jess eased me into thinking of how I needed to see my baby, hold her, smell her, remember her. When I was stitched up and moved into another room I realized how much my heart ached to see my little girl. I needed to hold her. My husband brought her over to me. I held my beautiful baby girl for hours. I snuggled her, my husband changed her and took her foot print, we kissed her, watched tv with her, talked to her about her big sister Madelynn, had a priest come in to bless her and took pictures of her throughout the night. She was so perfect. Her nose and the swirl in her blond hair were exactly like Madelynn’s. Her tiny hands had little nails, she had the lightest eyelashes and eye brows and the smallest little pink lips. I will never forget her beautiful face, her smell and the feel of her in my arms. These are the best worst moments of my life. 

Several hours later the nurses came in and asked if we were ready to have Grace go her new room and us to my room. I broke. I realized Grace would be alone, in a cold dark drawer somewhere. She would be alone… For six months her and I were never alone. I couldn’t handle thinking of her without me and me without her. I begged the nurse to make sure she had warm clothes, a blanket and a little piggy toy they gave us.  They promised they would and even took pictures of her with the piggy for us. We were sent to the post-pardum floor and given a room at the end with a butterfly on the name plate. The butterfly symbolized to the staff that we had a “fetal demise.” I was grateful for the butterfly as the staff that came in and out were very careful with how and what they said, but I was so angry that we had a butterfly. I wanted Grace.

Hours ticked by, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I was in pain, I couldn’t think clearly and my blood pressures were still out of control. I was going nuts sitting in the hospital without having my baby to hold, feed, and snuggle. Again, nurses, doctors, family and friends floated in and out of our room. Everything is a haze. No ones words made sense to me, I couldn’t focus. I was empty and broken. Finally, I was able to be released from the hospital. I was so happy to get out of there, but leaving was horrendous. Everything crashed down on me again. My baby was being left behind. I was being wheeled out without the excitement of bringing home our new baby. As we rolled past other rooms, hearing the sounds of happy families, I got angry. I forced my husband to let me walk out instead of being wheeled. I cried as we walked past the baby balloons. I cried as we walked past the expectant grandparents and friends. I cried as I got in the car with no new bundle of joy. I cried as we drove away and I thought of Grace alone. I was hallow. I am still. I’m just an empty body moving through my days, pushing past my grief and guilt to make sure my 4 year old still has a present mommy, my husband has a present wife, and my family and friends have a present me. But in all reality, I’m a shell. I constantly think “what if?” I’m filled with guilt over so much, not knowing she wasn’t ok in my belly, making silly statements like “I can’t wait until she’s out so I can feel like me again,” or “I can’t believe we’ve decided to go back to sleepless nights and diapers.” I would give anything to have my swollen ankles and big belly back. I’d give anything to be up all night because of feedings and diaper changes.  I’d give anything to have a rewind of the past month so I could fix everything. Instead I’m up all night because of guilt and overwhelming sadness. My body has begun to return to pre-pregnancy but I don’t feel like me. I’m not. I’m a fragment of myself. I lost a part of me. A part that grew in me for 6months, that I will never get back. I feel so lonely and empty. I feel like I’m in a fog, a nightmare that I’m begging to wake up from but never come out of. Some days are better than others, where the darkness isn’t so blinding, but I won’t ever be whole again, or feel “normal” again. This is my new “normal.”

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