Alesha

Mom to Baby Staley- Morgan

Born still August 23, 2012

Buckhorn, Kentucky

I was 19 weeks pregnant and had found out I was carrying an unhealthy baby and the baby would more than likely lose its fetal heartbeat within the next few weeks or month. I had gone in for a routine ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby, but instead found out that the baby had a massive cyst and was gathering fluid around its heart. I was in complete shock, which was supposed to be a day of joy not sadness. I was lying on the bed during the ultrasound while my doctor was telling me all the horrible news. In complete shock, I instantly started praying and asking God to remove the cyst and make my baby healthy. My OB doctor said the baby more than likely had Turners Syndrome, a disease more common in girls. We had trouble finding out the sex because we couldn’t see much of the baby because of all the cysts. I was very thankful I had a few family members there with me during this time. They were all very excited as well as me about getting to find out the sex of the baby.

After I left the clinic, the news finally sank in and all I did was cry. I was scheduled a visit with a high risk OB/GYN doctor for the following week, hoping for better news, but the news was still the same. After 2 routine ultrasounds with my regular doctor to check for a fetal heartbeat once a week, we went back and they wasn’t one. On August 23, 2012, my first child had lost its heartbeat at 21 weeks 5 days.

The past two weeks had been such a nightmare. I was at the point I was just ready to get this over with and have my life back to normal. I had just started my bachelor program in social work. I had tried to prepare myself since the day I found out for the moment I heard “there is no heartbeat”, but it was harder than I thought it would be. My OB doctor then told what was going to happen next. I did not have many options; I was too far along in my pregnancy for just a normal D&C.

I arrived at the hospital the next morning bright and early with my bags packed, just like I would if I having a healthy baby. I was admitted in the labor and delivery unit at 6:00 that morning, away from all the other mothers giving birth. My close family was there with me. My labor was induced starting at 7:30 that morning. I had the baby later that day at 2:00. My nurses were more than wonderful. I was scared to death I was going to be treated awfully just because my baby was not coming out alive. The baby weighed a pound and nine ounces. The death of the baby was caused by Turner’s Syndrome. It was heartbreaking not to get to hear a baby start screaming and crying as soon as you have it.

I have to say, though, after having the baby I was relived. My life was slowly starting to get back to normal. I was asked by my nurses if I wanted to see or hold the baby and I chose not to. Some of my family decided they wanted to, which was fine with me. I have since then looked at pictures that my nurses took for me. It was very emotional looking at the pictures of such a little baby laying there.

I stayed overnight in the hospital so the nurses could keep check on me. The next day, when I was released from the hospital, it finally hit me again; I was not bringing a baby home with me. I cried most of the way home. The room at my house I had cleaned out for the baby hasn’t been touched since I lost the baby. I still am coping with the crisis but I am emotionally getting over the situation a little bit every day. My “would have been” due date is approaching in December and it’s going to be very hard for during that month. I pray every night for God to bless with me a healthy baby one day in the near future. I think God has given a second chance for me and my boyfriend, to get married and start our lives together before we bring another life in this world.  When I do get to bring a baby home from the hospital, I will be so thankful for that child. I will never cry over becoming pregnant again; children are truly a gift from above. I have made a vow with myself to not complain one time when I am pregnant again because God can take it away from you in a matter of time.

I could not have gotten through this situation without God, my boyfriend, my family and friends. They were beyond wonderful to me during this hard time and to this day they still are. They understand what I am going through.

You can contact Alesha at alesha.staley@gmail.com.

Leah

Mom to Grace

Lost October 19, 2012

Columbia, South Carolina

My mom named me Leah, which means weary. The past few weeks have really made me feel like I am living up to the meaning of my name. I have two healthy, wonderful boys who are ages 4 and 2. My husband and I decided that we wanted to have a third child; I was praying that God would finally give me a little girl.

After being off of birth control for only one month, I got a positive test and was so happy. I had my first OB appointment at 8 weeks and had an ultrasound done. I fell in love with my little bean, whose heart beat was a strong 175. I had terrible morning sickness just like I did with my first two kiddos, but I took comfort in knowing that the morning sickness meant the pregnancy was strong.

At 11 weeks, I was feeling more tired than usual and just off. I really didn’t have any symptoms to tell the doctor, I just felt like something was wrong, so she agreed to see me. She could not get a heartbeat with the Doppler, which is normal for me when I am early because I have a tilted uterus. She sent me to the ultrasound room. I have seen enough ultrasounds that I knew right away there wasn’t a heartbeat. The tech turned on the color to see the blood flow, and there wasn’t any blood flow to the baby. She said it looked like my little angel had stopped growing at 9 weeks.

I think I am still in shock. I never imagined that would happen after having two normal, healthy pregnancies. The name I had picked out for my little baby was Grace. My little Grace went to Heaven and I never got to hold her. I have two ultrasound pictures, one from 8 weeks and one that the tech printed for me the day I found out I lost her (Oct 19, 2012). I have those pictures in my Precious Moments bible that I have had since I was a little girl. I know I am incredibly blessed to have my two boys, and I hope to try again at a chance for another little girl, but I will have to think of another name, because I already have a Grace.

You can contact Leah at leah_allen@ymail.com.

Robin

Mom to Miles John

September 13, 2012 – September 17, 2012

Grand Rapids, Michigan

My husband and I decided to start a family in January of 2011. I promptly went off the pill and hoped that I would get pregnant quickly. It took about a year for me to finally get a positive reading, and 4 short weeks after that happened, I found out I was having a miscarriage. That was January 2012. Things weren’t progressing on their own, so I had a D&C on January 11, 2012. I was devastated and convinced the only thing that would take away the pain was getting pregnant again as soon as possible. So, in April, when we could try again, my husband and I went to Europe on vacation and the day we returned home I took another test and found out I was pregnant for the second time.

This pregnancy was difficult from the start. Within days of finding out I was pregnant, I also came down with bronchitis. While still recovering from that illness, I started having all-day sickness. At just over 6 weeks I started bleeding and of course assumed I was having another miscarriage. I will never forget how excited and hopeful my husband, Jason, and I were after seeing our son’s heartbeat on that very first ultrasound. I was sent home, stopped bleeding and spent 6 more weeks feeling nauseous every day all day, and throwing up most mornings.

At around 12 weeks I came down with a miserable high-fever flu that lasted 2 weeks. The first week after throwing up absolutely everything I tried to put in my body, I finally went to the ER, where they gave me an IV to re-hydrate me, but also couldn’t find the heartbeat on the doppler…so I was sent back to my OBGYN the next day for another ultrasound. Again, we were so relieved to see our sweet baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound. The second week of the flu when the fever finally went away was spent trying to get some food into my system because I was literally too weak to walk to the bathroom in my house. It was awful. When I finally recovered from that, I just went back to my all day sickness, which lasted until about 19 weeks.

From 19-21 weeks I felt good, the best I had felt in forever. I remember starving and eating non-stop (I had lost 7 lbs so far in the pregnancy) and generally being so happy for finally being over the sickness!

Then I hit 23 weeks. On Monday evening, during prenatal yoga, I developed a throbbing, miserable headache. I went home and right to bed, but couldn’t sleep at all. Finally, at 1 am, I called the doctor. Assuming it was a migraine, she called in a prescription for Tylenol with codeine to an all-night pharmacy. It didn’t do anything. The next day, with my head still throbbing, I called the doctor again – their suggestions were to drink caffeine, try to sleep and take the Tylenol with codeine every 4 hours. I also went and had acupuncture. While the needles were in me, I felt great. But, as soon as they came out, the headache came back. It did finally go away by the time I went to bed on Tuesday night.

Wednesday and Thursday, I felt fine. Then at 2 pm on Thursday, I had a routine doctor appointment. The nurse talked to me for awhile and then took my blood pressure. I could tell something was wrong. She had me give a urine sample and then had me lay down in the exam room, but she mentioned being concerned that I had preeclampsia. So, while laying on the table, I Googled it…and was terrified. The doctor finally came in, and without any small talk, told me I had to go straight to the hospital. A nurse was on her way with wheelchair to wheel me over there (it’s across the street from my office).

At the hospital, they told me my blood pressure was 200/113 and that I had severe preeclampsia and they were going to take labs continuously to see if I had HELLP syndrome as well. They put pads on my hospital bed (in case I had a seizure) and continuously told me over and over again how sick I was, that I had to relax because otherwise I could have a seizure or a stroke, and that I wouldn’t be leaving the hospital before delivering my son. When my labs came back, it turned out I had HELLP syndrome – which means that my kidneys were leaking, my liver wasn’t functioning and my blood platelets were low. I was terrified. At first, my doctor hoped I could make it 48 hours. Then that changed to 12. After only 4 hours in the hospital, my doctor came in and told me that they had to deliver within the next hour or I would die. My blood pressure was still too high to have a spinal, so they had to use a general anesthesia and I was out for the entire procedure, while my poor husband sat alone in the hallway outside the OR.

When I woke up, I was told they had delivered a tiny 1 lb. 3 oz., 11″ baby boy. My husband had already seen him in the NICU and he showed me pictures. I wasn’t able to see him until the 3rd day. Miles John, our son, was doing well that first day. I spent two more days not being allowed to visit my son, having terrifying hallucinations from the magnesium sulfate, and needing oxygen just to breathe. Finally, on the 3rd day, I got to visit him, on a gurney. It was tough. I was lightheaded, uncomfortable, and my poor son was just so, so small. I saw him again twice the next day – the first day I was allowed to shower and get out of my bed. Then, as I was getting ready to go to the NICU on his 4th day of life, his doctor came in to tell us that he had a grade 3 brain hemorrhage and basically had no brain function whatsoever. My husband and I held our sweet son while he passed. It was heartbreaking.

I was released from the hospital the next day on 9 blood pressure pills daily, Xanax and a million other things. My blood pressure has finally gone back to normal, but my life is nowhere near normal at this point. I want my son back. I want this to have never happened.

In addition, we have no idea where we stand on getting pregnant in the future. I’ve had mixed results from the OB’s at my office and am being sent to a high-risk. However, I know that I will never be told this definitely won’t happen again, and to be perfectly honest, I’m terrified of living through that experience again, and even more scared of losing another baby.

You can contact Robin at robinvandalson@gmail.com.

Kelsey

Mom to Audrinna Lynn

August 18, 2012 – September 19, 2012

Tulsa, Oklahoma

I am a teen mother and unlike most teen moms I had my priorities straight from the get go. My daughter, Audrinna Lynn Pike, was born on August 18th, 2012 and she got her wings on September 19th, 2012. Although my daughter was a surprise, I would never call it a mistake. I was a single parent to her throughout my whole pregnancy and the month that she was alive. I had a very normal non-eventful pregnancy for the most part, and my daughter was born very healthy and normal into this world at 41 weeks on August 18th, weighing 8 pounds and 15 ounces. We spent a few days in the hospital, as any normal mother and child would, and then we were free to go home.

Audrinna was the light of my life. Everybody told me how impressed they were with me doing such an amazing job with her all on my own. She was just the best baby. She was so good only cried when she was hungry or needed a diaper change. I was never away from her the whole month that she lived. Never once did I leave her or was I not in the same building as her. I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from my little chipmunk (that was her nickname due to her very chubby cheeks). She was so spoiled and constantly in my arms. I am so glad I chose to hardly put her in her swing or in her play pen, because little did I know our time was limited together.

September 18th was a normal day for us. Everything was fine and we went to bed. Early, early the next morning, on September 19th at about 3 or 4 in the morning, Audrinna woke up crying and I knew it was time to feed her. (I breastfed her full time.) So, I fed her and burped her, changed her diaper and put her back to bed. About 10 pm I awoke and was curious as to why she hadn’t woke up yet.

She was gone. She had stopped breathing in her sleep due to SIDS (autopsy later confirmed). I screamed for my aunt to call 911, I started CPR on her (which I took classes for) and the paramedics arrived shortly after. They couldn’t revive her; she was already in Heaven. I had a total meltdown and screamed and begged for them to rush her to the hospital and try more to get her to start breathing again. They knew as well as I did that she was already gone and there was no way to bring her back.

That day my heart was ripped out of my body. I am still searching for myself. It’s only been almost two months. I am so lost. I am meant to be a mother and that got taken away from me. The guilt eats away at me. If only I would have woken up a little bit earlier…could I have saved her? I know in my heart that it wasn’t my fault she went to Heaven, but a part of me will always wonder “what if”. I very much want to raise awareness for infant loss and studying. It can happen to anyone. My daughter was a perfectly healthy, normal baby and it happened to us.

There is no amount of pain that can compare to the loss of a child. I will carry her in my heart forever and I am awaiting the day God calls me home to be with my baby girl once more. The pain eases but the loss never leaves. I am a face of loss. I am a face of SIDS, and I am 1 in 4.

You can contact Kelsey at kelseypike23@gmail.com.

You can also find her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kelseypike23.

Linda

Mom to Eric Peter

September 8 – September 22, 1982

San Antonio, Texas

In 1982 sonograms were not routine with pregnancy, I don’t recall having a sonogram during my pregnancy. I always told everyone that my baby had a large butt, because I always felt my baby’s bottom moving up high into the middle of my chest. I could wrap my hand around my baby’s rear end, if only it would have been that easy.

In September of 1982, I was 18. My pregnancy was uneventful; I was young and my pregnancy was not planned, but my baby was wanted and loved by me and my husband.

I was 42wks when I went into labor. The night before, I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night feeling the urge to have a bowel movement, but not being able to. In the morning on September 8, 1982, I asked my husband to drop me off at my mom’s house on his way to work; I wasn’t feeling too well. After I was at Mom’s for a couple of hours, my water broke. Mom called the doctor and was told when the contractions were closer, I should go in. Mom and I walked for a while, then I showered and we left to the hospital. When we got there, I was admitted. I clearly remember getting an exam by a nurse, who gave me the most painful exam ever. I sat straight up, almost to my pillow, crying, and she said, “You think that hurt?” I was at a hospital for uninsured. Along with no insurance came no sympathy. After the exam, the doctor I saw throughout my pregnancy came in and said they thought my baby was breech. I was taken for x-rays and it was confirmed. My doctor came in and said he would be handing over my care to another doctor more experienced in this kind of birth.

I was in so much pain, but I wasn’t allowed to have any pain meds due to my baby being breech. The more experienced doctor explained that the way my baby was positioned in a breech presentation made it possible for me to deliver my baby vaginally.

The day is mostly a blur, but I have my medical records from the delivery. They show my baby’s heart rate would drop, then return to normal. As time went on, the discussion of a c-section finally came up. This would be well into the evening. The doctor said the baby was not coming down and that the heart rate was continuing to fluctuate. The doctor said he would give it 15 more minutes; my medical records show it was 50 minutes before he decided to perform the c-section. The doctor did one final vaginal exam, then said were going in to perform the c-section now. Mom asked, “Do you know what she’s having?” He shook his head yes. Mom then asked, “Can you tell her? Maybe it will help give her strength if she knew what she was having.” At this point I was crying hysterically from the pain. The doctor said, “He has the sprinkler system of a water hose.” I clearly remember my mom kissing my forehead and saying, “You’re having a boy, I’ll see you in a little bit, it’s almost over, your gonna have the baby in a few minutes.”

I was wheeled into the operating room, and put on the coldest, hardest, operating table. It hurt my back worse than what it had been hurting. I was rolled over to my side to start my epidural, when out of nowhere I heard someone scream. It was me! My baby had just ripped out of my vagina, tearing to my rectum. My baby’s whole body was out, but his head was stuck…I was quickly rolled onto my back and was being told harshly, “You need to push,” “You need to push hard,” and, “We need the baby out now, push.” With all my might I pushed, but I was exhausted physically and emotionally…finally my baby was fully out. he wasn’t crying. As he was handed over, I saw a glimpse of him, he was blue/gray, his arms hung to his sides, his feet were dangling…I remember thinking, “No cry, no baby”.  I was given medication and repair surgery started immediately after his birth. Strange thing is I didn’t ask about my baby, I think my heart knew he was dead.

I remember a doctor coming into the recovery room, explaining she was from the NICU, and that my baby was very very sick and the next 24 hours were very crucial. Next thing I knew, I woke up to bright lights and the doctor who delivered my baby was waking me up. With no expression, he said, “You know about the baby?” “Yes,” I said, “Why didn’t you do the c-section when I asked you?” He bowed his head, rubbed his hands together, and with the saddest eyes I’ll never forget, he walked out. I never saw him again, not once in the two weeks my baby was in the hospital.

My baby was in the NICU, Eric Peter Bermea and all 8lbs 9oz of him, so beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful, yet so sick. He had stopped breathing the last 3 to 5 minutes before he was born. The damage to his brain was devastating. My baby lived on life support for 2 weeks. During that time, my husband and I visited him daily. We prayed faithfully. At times we were told our baby would live, severely brain damaged in a vegetative state, but he would live. I would have taken him any way he was given to me as long as he lived and was with me.

On the day I was released I went to the NICU. I was crying, heartbroken that I was leaving my baby. I had yet to hold him. Mom asked the nurse if I could hold him, telling her, “She’s going home today.” Finally, the NICU doctor gave her okay. My baby had wires and IVs everywhere. H e was carefully disconnected from the wires and machines that kept him alive, and with a nurse using an airbag to pump oxygen into him, he was placed in my arms. I will never forget that moment. He was heavy and he had weight. My heart broke at that moment. My heart would never be the same…I would never be the same. I cried all the way home.

After two weeks on life support, the day came where my baby’s body finally shut down. We were told it was time to make the decision. We made it immediately: take him off tomorrow…I’d had had enough. I couldn’t do it anymore. I would not make it another day emotionally. For the sake of my sanity I had to let him go. Then the doctor asked something I never ever expected: “Do you want to be here when we disconnect him?” I lost all my breath at that moment. I couldn’t grasp an ounce of air into my lungs…what had she just asked me??? God, a mother is not supposed to stand next to her baby and watch her baby die. Never could my God have planned this for me. How could I stand there breathing as my baby is suffocating? As I cried hysterically, trying to get the words out, I said, “I can’t. Please don’t ask me to do that, I can’t.” She reached out hugged me and said, “You don’t have to, I will be here with him. He won’t be alone. I will call you as soon as he’s gone.” She gave us a big hug, and said, “Try to put this behind you.”

 I looked over at my baby. How do I do this, how do I say goodbye to my baby? I kissed him, told him I was sorry and I loved him. Touching him for the last time, I kissed his cheek. We walked out, defeated it was over. I had failed my baby, my body had failed my baby, any and everything and everyone had failed my baby.

It was the next morning, I was awakened out of the most beautiful dream. My husband and I were walking and in between us was our baby. We both held our baby’s hand. He was walking, he had on little red overalls and a white long sleeve shirt and red tennis shoes. As I watched us from behind, walking away with our baby, I thought with a big smile, “And the doctors said he would never walk.” Then I awoke. I was really hearing the phone ring. I answered, and it was the NICU doctor. She said, “Your baby is gone, I was with him as he left peacefully.”

Through these 29years of living with the loss of my baby, I’ve only told one person that I was not with my son when he died. How, as a mother, did I let my baby die alone? At 48years of age now, I could never ever fathom leaving a baby to die alone in a hospital. I had failed my baby again. Out of everything that happened during the 2 weeks of his life, this is my biggest regret.

Throughout the years, I was always placing distractions in my life, running, always running, from what? Finally, in 2010, I couldn’t run any longer. I sought support. Why was I so destructive and always running? I was running from having to face the realization that my son, Eric Peter Bermea, had died and that I had guilt, shame and mostly regret on how I handled the whole situation. But, today I am finally at peace, and have accepted that I handled the situation as a teenager would; I was just a child myself. Regrets…I have many, but with infant loss there is no right or wrong way to handle what is thrown at you. I can do “what if’s” all day and the outcome is still the same. I can’t go back and change things, but I can continue to move forward and make a difference on how I live my life and how I choose to honor my baby. That I do 30 years later…I honor my baby’s life daily.

Tabitha

Mom to Tanner Ryan

Born March 9th, 2007 and passed March 19th, 2007

Ada, Oklahoma

So…my story is a little long but I will try my best to keep it short.

I was about 8 months pregnant with my second child; my first was a little over a year old at the time. I was in an emotionally abusive relationship that one night became physical. Early the next day I realized that something was wrong. I was, for lack of a better term, ‘leaking’. My mother took me to the ER, each of us saying it was just “better to be safe than sorry.” I was told there that I was actually leaking amniotic fluids and that I was going to be rushed to a hospital two hours away to find out whether or not labor would be induced. My mother stayed in our home town, keeping my oldest until one of my sisters could watch him while she made the drive up.

After a few days of testing, and not only my mother but my children’s father driving up, the doctors decided it was time to induce. Friday morning, March 9th 2007 I gave birth to a healthy and beautiful baby boy named Tanner. He was about 5 pounds but had absolutely nothing wrong. For three days, although their father and I argued a bit, our son was perfect. Sunday both their father and my mother drove back to our home town for work and to prepare for the baby coming home. My sister drove up to see us and took tons of pictures. I thank God now that she did!

That night it was just Tanner and me. It was quiet, and calm. Our nurses were amazing and helped with even the smallest things. At about midnight I fed him and changed him before laying him in the little hospital bassinet and catching some zzz’s for myself. His nurse had told me that at 2am they would come in for the regular vitals check and that she would feed and change him for me and perhaps even keep him with her for a bit.

So 2 am rolled around and I heard her come in. I rolled over and remember squinting at her as I said good morning gruffly before turning back over. Next thing I knew she was screaming and yelling ‘Code Blue!’ as she ran out the door, carrying my son over her head.

It felt like a bad dream. It had to be a bad dream. When I stumbled into the hallway, they were empty and completely quiet. They had a small ‘emergency care’ room on our floor; I had seen it when I walked the halls. The closer I got to the room the more real it all became. Nurses and doctors alike were rushing in and out of the room. The door had a large glass pane and inside I could see my son as they tried to revive him.

The rest of the day is a blur of raw emotions. From calling everyone I knew to find support, to walking the halls and sidewalks waiting for my chance to see my son again. It was around 7pm before we were able to go up to the NICU. They had been fighting all that time to keep my son alive.

For a week he was kept alive by machines. They breathed for him, fed him, etc. All we could do was wait. After numerous tests, poking and prodding…they finally declared him brain dead. The lack of oxygen had done too much damage.

His last day was spent with me, my mother, and two of his nurses, creating memories to take home and preparing him best we could. I gave him his last bath and dressed him in a lovely outfit that the hospital gave us. I held him for close to an hour before he passed.

Because of the medications they had given him when reviving him, I wasn’t able to donate any major organs. I was, however, able to donate his heart valves. I’ve prayed ever since that they helped a parent take home their baby like I was never able to do.   It’s been five years now, almost six, and I am now also the proud mother of a gorgeous little girl. I am proud to tell people I am a mother of three and when they ask where my third child is I am happy to tell them of the tiny boy who changed my life forever.

No one was ever able to give me answers for why he stopped breathing. The Medical Examiner ruled the major factor in his death as Interrupted SIDS. Someday, somehow I hope I can live to see the cause of SIDS and maybe even a way to cure or avoid it completely.

You can contact Tabitha at tabitha.brown.88@gmail.com.

Amber

Ectopic pregnancy

April 2010

Lubbock, Texas

We began trying for a baby starting the summer of 2009.  We had been married about 4 1/2 years and I had been on birth control pills our whole marriage.  We were not actively trying at first, mostly just preventing.  I really thought that we would get pregnant right away.  I have never had any problems with my cycle and it has always been very regular and predictable.  Well, month after month went by with no pregnancy.  Most months I would get my hopes and then my period would start.  I could probably name off everyone who got pregnant while we were trying.  It was very hard to hear people say that they got pregnant their first month trying.  March of 2010 my period was late.  I took several pregnancy tests and they were all negative.  I was also having some pains in my ovary.  I looked some stuff up online and got freaked out!  Then my period started, so everything was fine.  I had decided not to stress about getting pregnant and just leave it all in God’s hands.

DH’s birthday is in April.  I remember having a dream that I was pregnant, so I thought I might as well take a pregnancy test.  I thought if I WAS pregnant, it would be cool to tell him on his birthday.  I took a pregnancy test (not expecting it to be positive) and there come two lines!  I was pregnant!  I remember freaking out!  I was off work that day and DH was sleeping in.  I was walking around our house saying, “Oh my goodness!  Oh my goodness!”  I eventually woke him up because I couldn’t stand it anymore!  I had the book “What to Expect When Your Wife is Expanding” and put that in a box along with the pregnancy test.  I videotaped him opening it.  It was precious.  He didn’t realize at first that I had already taken the pregnancy test.  You can see on the video when it finally hits him   This was Wednesday.

I had to get a new doctor, because my gynecologist did not do obstetrics as well.  I called the doctor I was wanting to use and they were taking new patients (yay!). I was to go in that Friday for blood work and then they would schedule a nurse visit and the first doctor visit.  I still was not sure I was really pregnant.  I was really in shock!  I had the blood drawn and my hCG was around 500.  I was really pregnant!!  We decided to tell our family.  Our parents were so excited to be having another grandbaby (we both have older brothers who already have kids).  According to my LMP, my due date would be December 10, 2010…our 5th wedding anniversary!  How perfect.  This was Friday.

Sunday morning I woke up to use the bathroom.  I didn’t turn the light on, or have my glasses on, but I noticed when I wiped it was dark.  I quickly turned the light on and saw blood.  I told DH that I was bleeding and we were losing the baby.  I was so sad and scared.  I tried going back to sleep but couldn’t.  I was also having a pain on my left side/leg and my back.  We went to church.  We still didn’t know if we should tell people that we were pregnant, but I didn’t want to.  After church we talked to our preacher and told him what was going on.  I was crying a lot.  This was Sunday.

Monday I went to work.  No one knew I was pregnant.  My back was hurting really bad.  On my morning break I called the doctor’s office.  They said bleeding can be normal in a pregnancy, but that since I was having pain I should get checked out at the ER.  I got my work finished and left early.  DH went with me to the ER.  I was concerned about an ectopic pregnancy because of the stuff I had read online the month before.  We went to the ER and they got us back fairly quickly.  I had a really nice nurse.  They took my blood and then sent me for an ultrasound.  I also had to have a catheter put in.  Not fun.  The ultrasound tech was obviously pregnant.  They did an abdominal ultrasound and didn’t see anything.  The tech said they might to a transvaginal ultrasound.  They took me back to the ER room; they did not do the transvag ultrasound.  The doctor performed a very painful pelvic exam and said that my cervix was closed, which was good.  They said my hCG came back but we would need to see how it rose.  I told them I just had blood work at my doctor’s office on Friday.  They asked if I remembered what the number was.  I told them 500 or something.  My hCG at the ER was around 550.  They discharged me from the ER and told me to go back on Wednesday to have another hCG check and to follow-up with my doctor.  The ER doctor said I might be having a miscarriage, but I was young…I could have more.  I didn’t want more…I wanted that baby.  DH called my doctor and we were to go in Tuesday morning.  I called work and told them I’d be out for 3 days (I had a note from the ER).  This was Monday.

Tuesday I went to my doctor.  I had never met her before.  I thought she was really nice, though.  She seemed very compassionate and concerned.  DH said we were worried about an ectopic.  She asked questions and we gave her the lab work from the ER.  She said she did not think the pregnancy was viable with my hCG barely rising over 3 days.  We already knew that.  We had already accepted that we would never meet this baby this side of Heaven.  She said she didn’t want to just give me Methotrexate in case it wasn’t an ectopic.  It’s a pretty powerful drug that you don’t want to have to take for no reason.  We could do a D&C, where they could check for fetal cells to see if the pregnancy was in my uterus (if not, we could have the Methotrexate).  We could wait and have blood draws to see if my numbers go down (indicating a miscarriage that was being passed).  She didn’t want to do surgery on my tube because it’s so small and could just cause more problems.  She left us to talk about it.  We decided to do the D&C.  I really just wanted to get everything over with.  I did not know much about a D&C.  My SIL had one when she had a miscarriage.  I thought maybe they just do them in the office.  We were to go to the hospital around 11.  We still had a couple of hours, so we went home.  I took my contacts out and wore my glasses.  We went to the library to check out some movies.  I still remember what shirt I was wearing.  We went to the Admitting Dept. at the hospital.  I just kept thinking, “I want to run away.”  I even told DH that.  We got all the billing stuff taken care of, then we went to the short-stay floor of the hospital.  They started an IV (once they could actually get it in).  My doctor came by, because she’s awesome   They told us that they do the D&C’s on the labor and delivery floor because that is where all the equipment is.  I had a really good nurse.  She said they would put something in my IV to make me groggy.  I remember feeling really fuzzy in my head and I said, “I guess I’m supposed to feel weird?”  Then they wheeled me back.  I vaguely remember them transferring me to the operating table.  The next thing I remember is being wheeled into the recovery room.  I asked my nurse if I said anything funny.  She said I kept telling them not to forget to give me oxygen.  I met back up with DH in the short-stay surgery room (He had to wait in the L&D waiting room all that time…).  A nurse came and said that the results came back negative so I would be getting the shot.  My doctor came by to talk to us.  She said we could try again in a month.  I asked if having one ectopic made it a higher risk to have another.  She said yes, but it’s not definite.  If I got pregnant again we would need to go in right away and monitor my hCG levels.  We went home that evening.  I started feeling really sick.  I was shaking and throwing up.  I’ve never felt so nauseous.  DH called the nurse on-call and they got my some nausea meds.  I don’t know if it was the anesthesia that made me sick or the Methotrexate.  This was Tuesday.

Wednesday again.  Within one week, I had gone from being super excited about finally being pregnant after 9 months of trying, to completely devastated and grieving the loss of our first pregnancy.  I cried a lot.  Every day.  On Sunday a couple announced that they were expecting their 1st baby.  That was hard.  Our babies would have been a few weeks apart.  I had to have my hCG checked every week till it went close to 0.  It took about 6 weeks.  It was terrifying knowing that my tube could burst.  It was a relief for my hCG to be down, but also sad to know it was all over.  I didn’t know if I would ever want to try again.  I could have died.  I did not want to ever go through another ectopic again.  DH and I took a road trip to California.  He has family out there and I had never been.  It was good to just get away.  I did eventually stop crying every day.  We now have a healthy baby girl, but I still think of my ectopic baby a lot.

You can contact Amber at rebma108@yahoo.com.

Odette

Mom to Sylas

Lost May 11, 2012

On May 11, 2012 I gave birth to my baby boy Sylas. He was a few days shy of six months.  He was strangled by the cord.  I was unable to get pregnant, so I thought, due to undetermined infertility.  I had tried for 6 years with my ex-husband and then later with a boyfriend of two years.  I got pregnant from my lover and of course it was a complete surprise. 

I was happy, scared, in disbelief; every emotion imaginable I felt went I saw the test strip positive and after confirming with my doctor.  I was in disbelief for the first 3 months believing that there was no way that I could be having what I wanted all my life, thinking I may miscarry.  But after several doctor’s appointment and sonograms, I was able to be happy and confident that I was going to be a mommy.  I had never felt that much happiness and joy in my life and then he started kicking, oh my God, I was so happy, I felt my little boy inside me.  I used to sing to him every day in the shower and when I had a 3-D sonogram he moved to not only classical music, but hip hop, too. 

I felt great, never had morning sickness, was very active, worked-out regularly and went to work every day.  I was so happy. All I cared about was me and my baby and saving money and his daycare.  By the fifth month of my pregnancy I had purchased a crib, two outfits and found a daycare for him. 

On May 6th I went to the emergency room because I had yellow discharge and it was nothing I had seen before and knew it was not right.  They kept me overnight to run tests.  First they determined I was a little dehydrated, so I was put on an I.V.  After some test they determined I had e-coli.  They kept me another night for observation.  I was sent home for bed rest and had a follow-up in two days.  The first night I was home I was so happy that I didn’t have a catheter and was in my own bed.  The second night was different, it was the worst of night of my life.  I was sweating, I couldn’t get comfortable, I felt the baby kick so hard several times.  I thought I may have had eaten something that disagreed with him, but I didn’t think that I had to go the emergency for that.

I got up to go to my follow-up and the doctors couldn’t find his heart beat.  I wasn’t worried so much because I thought I felt him move every time I got up.  I knew when I got the sonogram that my baby boy had died the night before.  The sonographer could not look at me and turned the screen away from me.  The doctor was upstairs and told me what I already knew.

I delivered Sylas on May 11, 2012. 

It’s been almost six month and I’ve been crying now more than before it seems.  The therapist helps and my friends listen.  But there are moments when I just don’t want to talk to my friends and bring them down, or repeat the same thing.  I have been needing a support group because I need coping skills.  I have a void in my heart an emptiness nothing has filled.  My boyfriend helps tremendously, but nothing compares to that joy I felt in my heart.

Amber

Mom to Lilyan Cayla

January 6 – January 29, 2012

Picayune, Mississippi

On January 5, 2011 I went to my scheduled doctor’s appointment, which also had a scheduled sonogram (ultrasound). The sonogram technician put the wand on my stomach and her face was a little puzzled and she didn’t say anything to scare me and put me in the room to see the doctor. I used a midwife and after the sonograms, we have to see the doctor who works with them. She was in the room quickly and decided to check to see if I was losing fluid. Sure enough, I was leaking! All that time I thought I was pottying on myself.

The doctor told me to go next door to the hospital, because she was admitting me! I was ecstatic as I was 38 weeks and my baby was coming. One problem, this was the only time that I went to the doctor alone. My house was 30 minutes away from the hospital. I also had our only car. I looked at her puzzled and asked if I had enough time to get to my house, get my husband, and get back up there because this is a moment we had been counting down to. I was supposed to get my induction date and I never thought I was going to deliver my baby girl NOW!

I left the office and I called my husband. He could not believe that “it was time”. I rushed home and gathered our things that I didn’t have together. My husband, my mom, my husband’s mom and I rushed back to the hospital. They put the I.V. in my hand and gave me the fluids and also the pitocin. I think the piticin was a waste of time, kind of. When they gave it to me, they said I either got it now or never. So I told them lets go ahead and get one.

We stayed up all night giggling and joking and cat napping.  On January 6, at 6:34 am I delivered my beautiful baby girl. She was perfect.

We went home 2 days later with a clean bill of health. The first week was perfect.  Lilyan started to sound congested at a week old. She was wheezing.  I called the pediatrician’s office and there was only a nurse practitioner there, but there was a doctor in another area on duty that was willing to see her. He requested that I bring her in as soon as possible. My friend and I brought her to the doctor’s office. He checked her out and said everything was fine. He told me, “You are a mother of 2 other children. Go home, you will know when your baby is sick.” I went home and I bulb syringed her nose and gave her constantly as the doctor’s request.

A few days later, I took her to her 2 week appointment, and the Nurse Practitioner Pediatrician told me she was fine. They did not run any tests on her to check on her.

Eight days after seeing the doctor, on January 29, 2011, I was woken up because my husband got out of bed to use the bathroom. I realized Lilyan was cold. I held her close and covered her up. When my husband came out of the master bathroom, I noticed that my baby was blue and not breathing. I immediately started C.P.R. on her and called 911. By the time I got to her, she was already gone. That was my first day as a grieving mother.

You can contact Amber at doudlebugz@gmail.com.

Erica

Mom to Hudson Ruth

July 11-July 14, 2012

Walla Walla, Washington

It is hard to believe that the best days of your life can be the worst days of your life.

The best days of my life were the three days that I got to be a mommy to Hudson Ruth Walter.

Baby Dub was born at 3:50 am on July 11, at the 41 week mark. She weighed 7 lbs. 14 oz. and measured 20 1/2 inches, and she had a full head of hair. Long, red hair.

Baby Dub was born without a heartbeat and had to be resuscitated. After getting a heartbeat going, Hudson was flown to Sacred Heart in Spokane, Washington. Not even 2 hours old, and already Baby Dub was having adventures on a helicopter.

I got to see her for about 60 seconds before they flew her off to Spokane. Daddy Dub followed quickly, but I had to stay in the hospital because I had just had a Cesarean section, and evidently you don’t just hop on the helicopter after one of those.

Hudson didn’t need much time to make you fall in love with her. A perfect little nose (we’re sure from her mommy), huge hands and feet, her daddy’s mouth, and that full head of luscious red hair did everybody in. One NICU nurse commented upon meeting her, “You could put a barrette in there!”

While Daddy Dub traveled to Spokane, I was stuck in Walla Walla with strict instructions to sleep and recover so I could travel the next day to be with our baby girl. I slept from about 6-10 o’clock, when Daddy Dub called from the road to tell me that the doctor at Sacred Heart had called already.

He and another doctor were working hard on Hudson, but she was very sick. Details were best discussed in person, but he wanted to let our daughter’s Daddy know that she’d made it and they were on the case.

Around 11, I got a call from one of the doctors at Sacred Heart, who gave me more of an update on Hudson. Our daughter was without oxygen for a significant period, and the main concern (among many concerns) was brain activity. Damage to the brain from such a significant event could be substantial. She may not have enough brain function to live on her own.

The plan was to undergo a cooling process for 72 hours. They’d keep Hudson’s body temperature around 33 degrees Celsius for three days. The doctor explained to me that there are three types of brain cells – the ones that would recover on their own, the ones that don’t ever recover, and the ones that can benefit from the cooling process and might recover. We were targeting those with the cooling process. He didn’t paint a very positive picture. It wasn’t his job to.

At around 12:30, my father-in-law called my mom and said they were starting a process over at Sacred Heart to get me there that day instead of waiting for the next day. I am so grateful for that phone call. It was agonizing being stuck in Walla Walla, and the moments I got to spend with our daughter were so precious. I would give anything for just a few more minutes. I got an extra couple of hours on that day.

So after much hubbub, I got in the ambulance and embarked on the 3+ hour drive to Spokane. How it took so long I don’t know…don’t ambulances get to go faster than other cars on the road? I tried to sleep but couldn’t. As I told the Hubs via text, the ambulance was the medical equivalent of a Vegas Hot Trolley – a rattling tin can that couldn’t get under 80 degrees even with the air conditioning on full blast. But it was taking me to my daughter and my husband, and I couldn’t wait.

We arrived at Sacred Heart around 7:45 and spent a little time trying to figure out how to get me to my room, but once I got there and got checked in, I was able to go see our baby girl, for real this time, not through the haze of general anesthesia and a night of difficult labor.

She is perfect. I don’t want to take my eyes off of her. I can’t believe we made her, and then again I can. A full, cone-shaped head of hair is the first thing you notice, and you can’t help but wonder where all of it came from. So much, so thick, curly, and RED! It never escaped comment, our daughter’s head of hair, the mystery behind it all a part of the legend that is Hudson. Her nose is tiny and perfect and we all agree is mine. Chubby cheeks, the same cheeks we fell in love with at our 36 week ultrasound. She has soft, arching eyebrows, a light blond, and let’s face it, if you look close enough her hairline extends down to her eyebrows but you have to look really close. A little point of wispy white-blonde hair sticks up off the tip of each of her ears. How can ears be so perfect? They’re not Shrek-like at all, but perfectly round with soft lobes, the ultimate kissable ear (I just wanted to nibble on each one!). Her arms have fuzzy hair all over them, especially the fleshy part of her shoulders, like those Italian construction workers you see getting questioned in episodes of “Law and Order”. Her eyes are closed, and gel seals them so they don’t get dry, but even with a coating of clear gel I can see that she has long, curly blond eyelashes, oh those lashes would get us into trouble, I bet. When the doctor examines her eyes later, I can see that they’re a deep, soft blue. She has a broad chest, with a tiny bruise in the center from doctors performing CPR. I can’t see her mouth very well – ventilator tubes keep most of her mouth covered up, but her little tongue sticks out a bit and her bottom lip is oh so soft. Her legs are chubby (Great Grandma R commented that she had her mommy’s thighs…what’s that supposed to mean?), bent at the knees with her heels tucked in towards her crotch and I imagine how she probably had these same contortionists tendencies when she was in my belly. I have to take off one of the Red Sox socks the Hubs has put on her feet, so I can count her toes. She’s got it all, and then some. She’s perfection, every little piece of her is a part of me and a part of her daddy, so you know she has to be strong.

Hudson didn’t need much time to make you fall in love with her. I wanted to pick her up, tubes and wires and all, and squeeze her close. Holding my daughter is an ache in my chest that won’t go away, a yearning I never got to satisfy fully, a feels-so-right that I got to experience so briefly it is an injustice. No mommy should go three days before she gets to hold her baby. And no mommy should have to hold her baby as her heartbeat slows to a stop.

That first night with Hudson was a series of questions, doubts, frustrations, what-ifs and what-is-thats. As the obstacles facing Baby Dub began to create a clearer picture, I tried to pick out the hopeful bits to cling to. I dig deep into my faithstores, I pray fervently, I repaint the picture in my head when it gets too bleak. We are looking at a perfectly formed treasure, her brain needs some time on ice but maybe, just maybe-definitely, a miracle is taking place in there. I need to believe in miracles. Even more so today than on the brief days that made up Hudson’s precious life.

Hudson died just a few hours before the cooling process was supposed to end. I am so very glad that the Hubs and I were with her when her heart rate shot up and then drastically dropped. The nurse on duty quickly sprung into action as I scrambled to get out of the way. I remember the nurse pleading with Hudson, “Oh no you don’t”…turning to the Hubs and I, “If we can’t stabilize her you two will have to decide if you want us to resuscitate,” I remember clinging to the Hubs, unbelieving, “This isn’t real, right? This is one of those horrible dreams and I’ll start awake at any moment.” Somehow in all that we let Hudson make the call, and she was removed from all the tubes and wires and handed to her mommy and daddy to die in our loving arms while Grandpa Dub went to call the family.

I don’t know how long we stayed in the room and held our baby. Seeing her face for the first time unencumbered by the breathing tube, holding all 9+ pounds of her (she’d gained two pounds in fluids over the past three days), swaddling her and singing to her and weeping with her daddy, both of us telling her how proud we were of her and how thankful we were that she gave us the time we got. It felt so good to hold her to my shoulder – like a missing piece of me had been found, only to be lost again.

After minutes, hours, years, we looked at each other and realized we had to face our family, who had all been rousted from their middle of the night slumber to come be with us in our grief. The nurse escorted us to a chaplin’s room, through the hallway where our entire family was waiting and I made this somber deathwalk, leaning on my husband and clutching our baby to my shoulder and trying not to make eye contact with anybody as we walked past. Once we were situated in the room, our immediate family was brought in first. Grandmas, Grandpas, Aunties and Uncles, then close friends who are like family all wordlessly wept with us.

This is the injustice of our world – that parents sometimes outlive their children, that grandparents live to see their children lose their children, that a joy like new life should ever be turned this horrific 180.

Finally, the night’s grief led to a heavy exhaustion, I’d cried through every bit of moisture in my body and it was time to let go of Hudson. I didn’t want anybody to see her face, pale and splotchy and lifeless, nothing like the precious yet ever-changing face I had fallen in love with over the past 3 days, 9 months, lifetime.

The nurse urged me to let the family hold her, “They need this.” I didn’t care, nothing mattered except what I wanted, what we needed, and we needed our baby to be alive. Since we didn’t get that, I was adamant about this: I didn’t want my family to see our baby looking so not like our baby.

The nurse laid off me a little bit, then offered to take some pictures of Hudson. This seemed macabre to me, and I refused again. But this time, the nurse was the one who was adamant. “Trust me, later you’ll want any picture you can get of her. Let me do this for you.”

She was right. When all you have left are pictures of your baby, you are grateful for every single one… even if it doesn’t look like who you made.

“Do you have some clothes that you brought for her?”

Through my weak and broken voice: “We brought some stuff for her, a lot of outfits, some of them were for if she was born on the 4th of July,” I blubbered. “Whatever you brought for her, those are Hudson’s clothes. You’ll be happy you have these…”

We left the nurse with our baby and our overnight bag full of baby clothes and we went to bed and stared wordlessly at each other. It seems impossible to go to sleep when your life is this nightmare…but sleep came more quickly than I had anticipated and then all of a sudden it was morning and yes, this was real, yes, our baby died. There is a printed rose on our room’s door so people know to be gentle with you when they walk in to take your temperature, talk to you about your options.

The amazing social worker from the Forget-Me-Not Foundation came to see us and offered to get us a few lockets of Hudson’s incredible hair. She offered to dress her and bring her to the “Angel Room” for our family to see her and hold her. What had seemed like a horrible idea the night before seemed like an amazing gift in the morning, and of course we said yes, please let us all see her again. The photographer that had been with us the day before had volunteered to come take more pictures of Hudson and we wanted that, too.

I showered, put on some of the clothes my wonderful sisters-in-law had gone to get me since our stay in the hospital had proved to be so much longer than we had anticipated. I brushed my hair, even put my contacts in (despite them being foggy from the previous night’s tears). We walked out to brave our family and friends yet again. I remember a friend of my sister’s was there, someone I’d known a bit in college, who was pregnant with her second baby, dressed in black, tears in her eyes, and I remembered thinking how lucky she was to be pregnant as I made brief eye contact with her.

We got to be the first in the Angel Room with Hudson and there she was, our beautiful, stunning baby dressed in her “going home” outfit, the adorable grey and white zebra print onesie with the lime green flower, wrapped in the soft purple blanket with the silky polka dot trim that her aunties had bought for her, sporting the white flowered headband that her other aunties had made in anticipation of the professional photographer’s arrival the previous day.

There has never been a more beautiful person, and we made her. A series of miracles all culminated in this amazing little body, this bundle of nerves and cells and this amazing mesh of my husband and me in new-human form. Even though I knew she was no longer there, the physical evidence of her struck me, “This is still something that we made.” Touching her skin, holding her and feeling her weight once again, it didn’t feel off or wrong at all. Holding your baby is the absolute best feeling.

The social worker encouraged us to take our time. We could stay as long as we liked, stay with Hudson in our room even. She said people had kept their babies in the room with them for days after their death.

But for us, it was time to go home and pick up the pieces.

We were given the opportunity to donate Hudson’s heart valves, and jumped at the chance. I stayed on at the hospital to answer a series of questions a kind-voiced man calling from the organ donation center asked: “Have you and/or Hudson been to Zimbabwe since 1979?” An overly talkative nurse with a wonky eye came to remove the staples from my C-section incision. She told me of her 5 miscarriages, her two successful deliveries, how she’d donated her breastmilk, on and on and on she went, I’m sure trying to find just the right story to tell me that would make me feel better.

And then we left. The sunlight after three days spent in the hospital seared my cried-out eyeballs. I felt nauseous, like the worst hangover ever.

On the drive home, we talked, and were silent, we cried, and stared blankly. We rallied against the universe. We questioned the existence of God. Somehow in all the possibilities, we hadn’t even considered the possibility that we would go home without our baby. We talked about how beautiful our daughter was. I mean, seriously the most gorgeous baby ever made, and we were the ones who made her.

At one point, my husband blurted out, “How do we not have a baby right now?” I didn’t have an answer.

After one particularly prolonged silence, my husband smiled silently to himself. When I asked him what he was thinking, he said:

“I was just thinking how glad I am that people who don’t even know us can tell how much we love each other.”

I fell a little more in love with my husband right then. I am thankful for him every single day. I’ll never forget how proud I was of our love in that moment in the car. We are fortunate to have each other.

We are also fortunate to have such an incredible family. Our parents were with us, our siblings and friends, a cadre of Hudson Fans surrounded her with love from the very first moments of her life through to the very last moments which came all too soon.

Today, this same support system has formed “Team Hudson’s Heroes“.

So many people fell in love with Hudson – from the nurses who cared for her to people who never met her and even people who don’t know me. We created one charismatic little human. And although losing her was the most devastating experience I’ve ever had to face, having her was the proudest accomplishment of my life. Having Hudson taught me a new level of love. It made me realize how full life is and also how terribly empty. She made me realize that life is too short to take a single second for granted.

Hudson is forever a part of our family, her pictures proudly displayed on Momma Sue’s wall in the biggest size Costco’s Photo Center can print.

Hudson made me a Mommy, the job I covet now more than any other occupation I’ve ever dreamed of (movie star! Broadway actress! Missionary Veterinarian!). And so, yes. The worst days of your life can also be the best. Life can become more full despite a devastating loss. The loss of a child creates a strange dichotomy of your “Real Life”, where dwelling in the positive half is the key to survival (and truly, this is all about the reality you choose). And despite some really bad bad days, we’re slowly finding it easier to live in the “Positive Place”, anxiously awaiting the arrival of a brother or sister for Hudson, eagerly looking forward to a really gross diaper change, ready to tackle that journey all over again because even though we lost Hudson, I’ll never, ever regret having her.

Erica blogs at http://meetbabydub.wordpress.com.

You can contact her at ericawalter815@gmail.com.

Miranda

Mom to Baby Sellers

Lost October 12, 2012

Vinton, Iowa

My name is Miranda. My husband and I live in a small town in eastern Iowa. I am twenty-three years old and my husband is twenty-seven. We have been together for 6 years, and married since September 2010. We have one dog named Hank (a beagle) who is our baby, and two cats, Peanut and Reggie. This is our story of trying to conceive and a second trimester miscarriage.

As far back as I can remember I have always wanted to be a mother. I love children. I love their innocence, their curiosity, their ability to speak exactly what’s on their mind, and the way they seem to make the world a better place. And while I have been blessed with many children in my life – cousins, nieces, nephews, and students – I have always yearned for the day when I would have a baby to call my own. In the fall of 2011, my husband and I decided we were ready (as ready as we would ever be) to take that next step and become parents. I was ecstatic. We tried and tried to no avail, and after 10 months we decided maybe it was time to seek out the help of a professional. I went to see my family doctor and after running some tests, she decided it would be a good idea for us to see a fertility specialist. At this point I began to become discouraged. I mean, wasn’t getting pregnant supposed to be easy? Look how many unwanted pregnancies occur in our country year after year. Here my husband and I were wanting a baby so badly and yet it didn’t seem to be in the cards for us. We met with the fertility specialist and she believed I had Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, which essentially means that my body was not ovulating. However, she needed to run some expensive tests to verify this diagnosis and our health insurance would not cover the cost of infertility tests or treatment. My husband and I decided instead of paying thousands of dollars out of pocket we would just keep trying, and if a few years down the road we still didn’t have our baby we would explore fertility treatment.

A month after our appointment with the fertility specialist I realized my period was a couple of weeks late. Due to the PCOS this was common for me, so I didn’t think too much of it, but decided to take a pregnancy test just to be sure. Imagine my shock when I realized it was positive. My husband was even more shocked than I was and made me take two more tests just to be sure. All the tests were positive, so I set up an appointment with my doctor to confirm, and, sure enough, we were expecting our little miracle nugget. I was 6 weeks along and we couldn’t have been happier.

About a week after my pregnancy was confirmed, I woke up in the middle of the night with really bad cramping. I was terrified that I was about to lose this little baby I had dreamed about my whole life. I called my OBGYN and they had me come in right away the next day. They did an ultrasound and discovered that I had actually been pregnant with TWINS, but for some unknown reason one of the babies had stopped developing. I was shocked and sad for the lost baby, but I was grateful I still had one healthy little peanut. Everything was fine at my 8 week ultrasound, and at my 12 week appointment our little nugget was moving all over the place. The ultrasound tech kept getting frustrated because every time she tried to get a heart rate our little nugget would start doing flips. At our 12 week appointment my doctor was a little concerned about a band that had developed in my amniotic sac. He said he wanted to keep a closer eye on me just to make sure the band didn’t harm the baby, but so far everything was okay. I was a little scared but my nugget was so active I just KNEW he/she was going to be okay. The weeks seemed to drag on until my next appointment, but we tried to stay busy picking out nursery themes, making lists of baby names, and taking pictures of my plump belly.

October 12, 2012, the day of my 16-week appointment arrived and I was over the moon. I was finally going to get to see my little nugget again AND find out if we would be having a little boy or girl. My husband and I were full of hope and happiness on that car ride to the doctor’s office; little did we know our whole world was about to be turned upside down.

I knew as soon as the ultrasound tech started waving the wand over my stomach that something wasn’t right. I had been able to see my little nugget right away during all my previous ultrasounds, but I couldn’t see my baby on the screen, everything just looked distorted. After a couple of minutes she said six words that completely shattered my happiness: “I can’t find a heartbeat.” She left to get the doctor and I lost it. My husband tried to stay optimistic, saying, “Maybe the nugget is just hiding,” but I knew…I knew there wasn’t a little nugget anymore. The doctor finally came in after what seemed like forever and confirmed there was no heartbeat…our little nugget, our little love, our baby was gone. I completely shut down, the doctor started talking about our options but I didn’t hear a word he was saying. How could this have happened? How could this little baby, a testament of my and my husband’s love, the baby I had longed for my whole life, just be gone? I wanted this baby, I needed this baby; it couldn’t be gone. After talking with the doctor, we decided a D&C was the best option. I didn’t want to deliver the baby…I couldn’t, knowing that after all the pain I wasn’t going to be bringing the baby home with me. The doctor scheduled the D&C for two days later.

It has now been two weeks since I found out the horrible news of my baby and had the D&C done. Each day is still a struggle to get through, some days are better than others, but they all are hard. In a few days I have my first follow up appointment since my procedure and I am left with a thousand questions running through my head. Why did this happen? Will I be able to get pregnant again? If I get pregnant again, will I lose that baby? Will I ever be able to carry a baby full term? I know I may not get the answers I am looking for, but I am trying my hardest to keep the faith…that one day I will have a precious baby to hold in my arms.

Miranda blogs at http://msellers3589.blogspot.com.

You can contact her at mirandasellers3589@gmail.com.

The upcoming holiday season is supposed to be ‘the most wonderful time of the year.’ But we all know, it’s these ‘special’ times that can really hurt the most. For many of us, the holidays are an incredibly bittersweet time, and a painful reminder of the little one(s) who should be there to celebrate them with us.

We hope this gift exchange will help brighten up the holidays for those of us missing our babies. Participants in the exchange will be matched with another Mom or Dad and can buy or hand-make their partner something in honor of their baby – an ornament, a special candle, anything! Participating is not only a great way to honor and include your child(ren) this holiday season, but a chance to connect with someone you may not have ‘met’ before.

Here are the details of the exchange:

1.)  Sign-up at https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/viewform?fromEmail=true&formkey=dHAwLUxXeU9GMy05TTNTOV8tNGpWYXc6MQ.

Jennifer

Mom to Agustin
Born and died September 30, 2012

and

Aristeo
Born sleeping September 30, 2012

Bradenton, Florida

Knowing I was pregnant was the scariest and happiest day of my life. It was even scarier telling my mother; she already knew, but was scared to ask me. One day she handed me a pregnancy test and told me to take it. I was so scared, but after taking the test, which you could hardly read what the results were, I told her I was already 3 months.  She was happy because she was not yet a grandmother.. I was frightened I’d be a mother at 18.

A few days later at my first prenatal check-up I heard my baby’s heartbeat, I was so excited that I almost cried. I sent the video to my baby’s father and he was speechless. It was the most beautiful thing I could have ever heard. My due date was set for February 2, 2013, which was great because my boyfriend’s birthday was the 27th and his sister’s and dad’s were on the 25th. My in-laws were out of this world happy, already getting ideas for my baby shower and picking out clothes.

The day of my first ultrasound(September 5th) had came around so quickly. I was so excited to find out if I was on team blue or pink.  That day, my mother in-law and boyfriend accompanied me to the ultrasound. As the ultrasound tech squirted the blue slimy gel on my belly I closed my eyes for a brief second. Still with my eyes closed, I opened them quickly, because she was asking me if I ever had an ultrasound before. I quickly responded, “No, why?” With her big eyes opened wide, she said, “There’s two in there!” My eyes grew as wide as hers.“OMG.” I couldn’t believe my eyes as I saw to little babies squirming on the TV screen. I was beyond happy, I almost cried. My boyfriend and his mother were busy telling the world we were having twins. Now the question was, what gender were they? The tech asked, “Would you like to know gender?” I immediately shouted out, “YES!” Not even a few seconds later she said Baby A was a boy, and after checking him and all his body parts, she said he was nice and healthy. Finally, she got to Baby B, and she said he was also a boy. OMG! I was so happy and my in-laws were beyond happy, because they only had one grandson and two more they could spoil…who wouldn’t be happy?  On September 7th, I had another prenatal check-up and everything was perfect. My due date was changed to February 9, 2012.

A few weeks passed and I felt something different. My babies weren’t moving as much as they did. I told my mom and my boyfriend. My mom said maybe they grown a little bit and didn’t have much room as before. My mind was at ease after that, so I didn’t bother calling the doctor. At my next prenatal appointment, which was September 21, 2012 I was extremely happy because my boyfriend was going with me that day. The doctor gave me an ultrasound and after a few minutes I knew something was wrong by the expression on his face. He told me one baby (Baby B) wasn’t moving and didn’t have a heartbeat. Oh, my God. My heart stopped, and I couldn’t help my tears. He said he might be wrong, because he wasn’t a tech and he ordered me to get an ultrasound with Manatee Diagnostics. So here I go, getting an emergency ultrasound, my eyes full of tears…ugh. I knew my baby had passed the week I didn’t feel much movement. In my mind, I said to myself, “You should have called!” I felt so guilty; maybe I could have prevented his passing.

We finally got to Manatee Diagnostics and there I had another ultrasound and the doctor didn’t really tell me clearly that he passed. My boyfriend and sister in-law were with me when I was getting the ultrasound. I could see tears running down my boyfriend’s face. I was trying my best to hold my tears in. After that we had to wait in the waiting room. My sister in-law asked what had happened, and he said, “Well, the baby passed away, obviously.” My face changed. I felt so angry; he didn’t have to say it so rudely. I started to weep like no tomorrow. The tech said to report to the hospital, which was right next door.

So here we go to the hospital nobody likes because so many people pass here. I call my mom and I cry so hard. She couldn’t believe it. I get into the gown they give me and take some blood. I’m in the room with my sister in-law Yesenia, my boyfriend, my mother in-law and my other sister-in-law, Kasandra. Kasandra and Yesenia are weeping as much as I am. We ask the nurse when the doctor is going come and they say in a few minutes. I call my mom to see if she’s on her way. A little after my second call she arrives. I look at her and I immediately hug her and I cry my heart out, and she is trying her best not to cry. We wait and wait. The doctor is nowhere to be found. So we decide to go to Sarasota Hospital, because I didn’t even know why I was at the hospital and what was going to happen to me. At Sarasota, they were so kind and they told me all we could do is wait. A week later, on a Wednesday, I had some liquid coming out of me; it felt almost like I had peed. I didn’t think anything bad, but I told my mom. On Thursday the 27th of September I had an ultrasound with Hill & Barren. There they told me everything was going to be fine, because the baby that had passed was the baby that formed second. I told them about the liquid and they said to call my doctor’s. The next day I went to Tampa General Hospital where I was checked by three doctors. None of them told me anything except the last one; she said she wasn’t sure my water had broken, but that I was one centimeter dilated. I was sent home and told if I had any fever or contraction to head to the hospital.

September 29th was a normal day for me. I was at my boyfriend’s house enjoying myself and eating like no tomorrow.  Throughout the day my back was hurting and I would get a pain in my stomach. It hurt so bad, but I’ve had pain like this before so I didn’t pay attention to it. They started to hurt more and more. I still felt my baby kick (the one who was still alive), and it make me think everything was going to be ok. In the back of my mind I knew exactly what was going to happen…I had a dream a week before that my babies came early and passed away. I got home that day around 11 p.m. and I told my mom my back was hurting.  She gave me a look, giving away something wasn’t right. All that night I felt like I had to use the restroom. I couldn’t sleep and the pains were getting worse. My mom finally got up and asked if I was okay, I responded and said no. She called my in-laws and they were at my house so fast it even made me laugh. I got ready and we left. I went with my in-laws and my boyfriend while my mom went in her car. As I sat next to the love of my life, my heart was breaking with every pain I felt. I squeezed his hand with every contraction, and I could see the sadness in his eyes because he knew what was coming, too.

When we arrived at the hospital I was admitted immediately. The contraction were so intense, I couldn’t even walk. They checked baby A and he was fine, moving so much the nurse couldn’t find his heartbeat. I ended up throwing up because I was in labor. When the doctor came in he checked me and said I was 5 cm dilated. He gave me a look that just broke my heart, with sympathy he said, “I’m sorry, but Baby A isn’t going to survive, because he’s simply to small and not fully developed at 21 weeks.” I nodded with tears in my eyes. I called my boyfriend, who was in the waiting room, and told him what the doctor had told me. I walked to the delivery room and the contractions were so severe I almost fell to the ground. I stayed strong and made it to the room. Once there, the nurse put me on IV and asked if I wanted the epidural. I said no. After being asked a few questions by the nurse, the doctor came in and checked how much I was dilated. I was already 10 cm and it came the time to push. A few minutes later at 7:59 a.m. on Sunday, September 30th, my little Agustin was born. He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. He was so tiny and fragile. I got to hold him. I kissed his forehead and he made a sound that made me feel so happy. I gave him to my boyfriend and it was beautiful to see my boys. But there was one more to come. My little angel was yet to come into this world. Aristeo was born sleeping a few minutes later on Sunday, September 30th 2012. My little boy was lifeless, but mommy loved him no matter what. As I got to hold the two of them in my arms, I asked myself why they had to leave so early. They were in a better place with god and other family members.

We named them after my mom’s father (Agustin) and my mother-in-law’s father (Arsiteo), who had passed when she was little. I was blessed to become a mother even if it was for awhile. The joy of feeling their movements was amazing. Forever in my heart. R.I.P Agustin & Aristeo, Mommy & Daddy love you.

You can contact Jennifer at Latina12295@gmail.com.

Xochitl

Mom to Baby Spoerer

March 29, 2012

California

I guess you can say my story started a few years ago. My husband and I have always wanted kids. We tried and tried with no such luck. We had talked about it and decided if we could not get pregnant on our own it just wasn’t meant to be. I was finally getting comfortable with the idea that we would be childless. Then, in January 2012, to our greatest surprise, I was pregnant. It was the best day of my life and to top it off, I told my husband the night before his birthday the big news.

Nothing mattered; we were the happiest people in the world. We decide we would keep the secret and send cards to everyone.  Our joy didn’t last very long; 5 days to be exact. I was at work and all of a sudden something wasn’t right. I went to the bathroom and there was blood. I immediately called my husband and OB. They told me it was normal to have some bleeding, but I knew this wasn’t normal; I just had this feeling. It got worst throughout the day and I started to pass clots, big ones. I immediately called my OB again and over the phone I was told I was probably having a miscarriage and they would call in the morning to see if anything had changed. I called my husband and told him the news. He tried to comfort me as much he could over the phone, and to top it off I was at work and had to hold back my tears. That night all I did was cry and cry some more.

The next day came and the nurse called. She wanted me to get my betas checked every two days.  On the second lab results, she called me and told me, “Well, your numbers are on the rise.” Yay! We were back on tract, or so we thought. I went in for an ultrasound on a Friday, and they found an empty uterus and a cyst. The doctor told us it was ok as I was only about 5-6 weeks along. We were sent home and told just to keep getting my levels checked and a follow up in a week.  My levels were still on the rise at first, and then they began to slow down. At the second ultrasound, I still had an empty uterus and cyst that had grown. He still wasn’t convinced I had an ectopic pregnancy, since I have a history of cysts. I was to keep getting levels checked and come back in two weeks. Those two weeks felt like two years. Throughout the entire time I just kept telling myself and my belly, “We will be ok, everything will turn out just fine.”As my love for my peanut grew, so did my fear. Finally, another ultrasound and still nothing. My doctor wanted me to go get an ultrasound at an imaging center just to make sure. That was on a Friday and he told me if I didn’t hear from him by the end of the day, it was probably a good thing.

The weekend passed and no phone call. Yay! See, I knew we would get through this. That Monday morning while at work I get a phone call from the doctor. I was sure he was going to tell me, “Mrs. Spoerer, you are in the clear,” but nope. He said I still had an empty uterus and my cyst was growing too fast. He wanted to do surgery to remove the cyst and the pregnancy if it was there. That was it…10 weeks of my baby growing in me and my love for her.  He told me we needed to do surgery right away and the nurse would call me with the date and time. I called my husband, trying not to just scream and cry. He asked me if I wanted him to come home from work. I told him no, that it wouldn’t change anything. A few minutes later the nurse called me and said, “Wednesday at 12.30 your surgery is scheduled.”

At that point we still hadn’t told anyone. What was I going to tell everyone? What about work? I was to a point embarrassed this was happening. What would people think? Why was this happening to us?  I can’t even explain what my feeling and emotions were. One minute I was sad then went to being angry; thinking we are good people we can provide for this child. Not like others who get pregnant and cannot take care of their child. I didn’t actually tell anyone about the pregnancy or the surgery until the night before. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone in person or by phone so I sent out a mass text to our family and closest friends. 

That Wednesday I put my big girl pants on and told myself I would not cry; I needed to stay strong. I stayed that way, talking positive and telling my husband it was ok, that God has other plans for us, but inside I was dying and felt alone. No one understood what I was going through.  After the surgery was over, my emotions just came flooding out. I told the nurse I didn’t want anyone in my room except my husband. No one was allowed to see me like this. (I don’t know why I felt ashamed to be sad and cry). As soon as my husband walked in I just cried like I have never cried before. He just held me and let me cry.   Finally it was time to go home. All I could think is why us, what did we do to deserve this?  As the calls of concern came I put on my brave face and told people I was fine. I let it bottle it up.   It has been 7 months and this month would have been the month we should have welcomed our bundle of joy into the world. It hasn’t been easy the entire time, but this month something changed and changed me. I was heartbroken that I didn’t have my baby. I finally let all my emotions out to my husband and to the world. I started my blog and I feel so relieved to let it all out and know that there are other women going through the same thing. I feel like this angel has made me want to be a better person and help others. Even if we do not have another child, I will always be a mommy to an angel waiting for me in Heaven.

Xochitl blogs at http://forevermychild.blogspot.com.

You can contact her at Xo1187@aol.com.

Candace

Mom to Scarlett
Born and died September 19, 2012

and

Aiden
Born and died September 20, 2012

Fontana, California

I felt like we had been awaiting these babies for over two years; with all the planning and hurdles we had to get through, this was finally going to be the big reward.  We were finally going to have these babies in our arms, only three or four more months to go. Then everything changed and we were in the battle to save our babies lives. We never thought this was the one battle we would lose.

My husband and I met in January 2007 and were married June 2009. After a year of being married, we thought I would stop taking birth control and we would shortly get pregnant. It just didn’t happen that way. After many test and doctor visits, we found that my husband had an obstruction in his vas deferens from a childhood surgery. The only way we would be able to have a baby would be through IVF with ICSI after my husband went through a sperm retrieval surgery. 

This put a hurdle in our plans, but we were still very positive about having a baby.  We had planned on moving and getting settled in our new home before moving forward with getting pregnant.

In April 2012, we decided it was time and before you know it, I was officially pregnant in May; even though we had to have the help of modern medicine, I got pregnant on our first round of IVF. We were so excited.  We soon found out we were having twins. With every appointment things were more and more reassuring that we were going to have our little babies soon.  I was having some occasional tightening in my stomach, but knew that I was growing quickly and it was normal as long as they went away if I rested, and they did.  Everything was looking good at our 19 week appointment with the perinatologist; everything was wonderful. We found out we were having a girl and boy, how perfect?  Scarlett and Aiden.

On September 9th, I was 20.4 weeks pregnant, and I woke up with some lower back pain and thought I had a kidney infection. I was also having a lot of tightening in my stomach, and being a labor and delivery nurse, I knew that an infection could cause preterm labor.  I told my husband I’d better go to the hospital so we could see what was going on.  After a few hours in the hospital, they found no infection and were able to calm down my what they called an irritable uterus. It looked like I was going to stay for a few days to make sure everything was all right.  Later that night, the contractions came back and the perinatologist came into see me and did a vaginal ultrasound. My cervix was closed, but very thin. We were told I would deliver early, but they didn’t know how long my cervix would remain closed if the contractions didn’t stop.  I was given a cocktail of medication to stop the contractions and spent the next 10 days in the hospital bed on my side. I knew that as uncomfortable as I was, I could stay like this for the next 3 months, but it was now up to my body.  My husband and I felt sure that this was going to work and we would take home our babies.

On the evening of September 19th (at 22 weeks exactly), for some unknown reason my contractions came back strong and hard, and I knew this was it. I told my husband I felt like they were going to be born, that this was the day. I fought it the whole time, but I knew she was coming and there was nothing we could do.  I pushed out little Scarlett, weighing 15 oz. She was so beautiful. My husband and I were able to hold her and talk to her for just under an, hour before she passed away.  Three hours later Aiden came weighing the same as his sister.  We were amazed at how much he looked like my husband. We were able to hold him for about 30 minutes before he passed.  They both stayed in our room with us. We were able to all lay together in bed and memories – special memories – were made even, if they were just a few.  We were there when our beautiful babies took their first breaths and we were there when they took their last.

We buried them together in a cemetery garden near our home.  They will always be our first babies. They made us parents and we are so thankful we got have them for a little while.

You can contact Candace at candyvalenz@aol.com.

Sunshine

Mom to a baby lost July 2012

West Virginia

This July, I lost a baby.  This was my third baby, the one I had carefully planned for and looked forward to for months before conceiving.  For the last month before trying to conceive, I took my vitamins, stopped drinking caffeine and even alcohol.  But I got extremely sick right at ovulation, and I’m pretty sure that’s what affected the baby. 

I was fortunate to be with my entire family in California when I miscarried, and so losing the baby was not as scary for me as it would have been if I’d been on my farm.  I’d known the baby was gone for almost a month by the time my body decided to let it go, so that month was very hard on me.  When I look back over the summer, I can see the implosion that started to happen in the gardens as I turned my heart away from them.  In my head, I imagine the Einstein model for gravitational pull of planets (his General Theory of Relativity); in this picture, space/time curves down and around the power of a planet.  I can see, in retrospect, the way the gardens started to fall down into a hole with me for a time.

While I was in that hole, I asked my mother to come and visit me.  I’ve not asked so much of her in recent years…I’ve been proud to be standing on my own, proving my level of maturity.  Been happy to show her the evidence of what she taught me coming through in how I raise my own children: healthy food, not too much media, home-schooling, music.  But in those two months of waiting to lose the baby and then dealing with the loss, I asked my mother to carry a large part of my emotional breakdown.  I left the baby’s remains with her to be buried in California, and she did a beautiful job of treating him with respect and love.  But being back on the farm, surrounded by urgent farm tasks, I started to fear that this piece of me would leave forever.  I needed something tangible to hold onto.  So, again, I called my mother and asked her to bring home the now empty childhood jewelry box that she’d transported the baby in.  We had recently been doing some major excavating on the farm to build a root cellar–a literal hole to reflect the emotional hole inside me–and we went down in the rain on her last afternoon to scavenge for rocks.  Amongst the usual sandstone sunsets and surprising splashes of purple that pepper our rocks here, we found a beautiful headstone with a mountain perfectly carved on it.  Then we had a burial ceremony with my husband, two children and mother.  This baby, my only conceived here in the mountains, is now—in part–at home in these mountains again.

I’m mostly back out of that hole now, thanks largely to my mother, sister, mother-in-law and amazingly loving husband.  But I just learned about Remembrance Day, for all parents who have lost a baby.  It is the first time I’ve ever even heard about this day, and now suddenly here it is in my life.  These days, I feel marked in the same deep way as when I lost my stepfather in 1995.  Death is a real specter in my life, visits me every day, and reminds me how lucky I’ve been so far.  And it reminds me that it will inevitably be a part of my life again.

I’m hoping to try again for a third child at the beginning of 2013.  I hope to be blessed with a healthy pregnancy this time.  The hardest thing for me has been letting go of the idea that I could have done things any differently and maybe kept the baby.  As his birth date gets closer and closer, my feeling of loss overwhelms me at times.  At those times, having a quiet place I can visit just a few steps from my front door to remember him helps me feel calm again.

Shannen

Mom to Asjiah-Fate

September 18, 2012 – October 8, 2012

Toronto, Ontario, Canada

It all started when I was 7months pregnant. I had my 18 week ultrasound done over and over. They kept repeating it, saying they just were not getting clear pictures of baby’s heart. Then I was told I had to go to Mount Sinai hospital to have it done, just because they had better equipment. I was so confused about what was going on. I had 3 previous miscarriages back to back prior to this pregnancy, so was very worried. I asked, “Are you sure that is the only reason, because I’m going to be going alone?” They told me everything was fine.

I finally got my appointment and went there alone. I went into the ultrasound room, and the nurse was asking me a lot of questions, and then when I laid down she started to ask if I was alone. I said yes. She started to tell me I should call someone. I questioned why, and she said because the reason I was there was because the baby had a rare condition called Diaphragmatic hernia. I didn’t know what to say or do. I got up and said I need a break after I was there for 2 hours of getting ultrasound. I went downstairs and called my mom to get here quick from Barrie. I went back up and finished the other 2 hours of ultrasound, and then had a doctor come in and take more pictures. Then they said they needed me to meet a team. So, my mom and sister got there finally and we went into a room where there were doctors everywhere from Sick Kids and Mount Sinai to explain what was going to happen. They started to explain that her heart was on the wrong side, blocking her lungs, her liver and bowel were pushed up into her chest and there was a hole in her diaphragm. They told me there was nothing I could have done to cause or prevent it; it’s like 1 out 5000 odds and I happened to be the one .She had a 60% chance of survival and when I had her it would need to be planed, so I’d be in Toronto for sure, because she would have no chance at any other hospital. They also made it very clear that when she was born, she would be rushed away from me without me holding her or anything; it was for the best to try to keep her alive. Then, when they got her good and stable, she would go through surgery to place her organs to where they should be, in their original places.

I was so overwhelmed. I came home and read and read on her disorder, trying to find out more information on it. I didn’t understand. I was always told my baby was so active and her heart was very strong. I had so many ultrasounds throughout my pregnancy and NO ONE told me this before I was 7months pregnant.

So, I went on with my pregnancy having hope. All my doctors then changed to Toronto, and I was coming to appointments all the time in Toronto. Then we added on two more doctors from Barrie as I got bad diabetes through the pregnancy and had to start insulin as well. I was due September 30, 2012. They gave me an induction date of September 17, 2012 that would make me 38 weeks 1day.

I was ready September 17th. I went into hospital early that morning to Mount Sinai and was induced, and later that night the doctor came in said he was going to try keep me from having the baby until later next day, because my team at Sick Kids wasn’t ready for her. He would rather it be on a day shift when more higher up docs were there. So at 3am, doctor comes in to break my water and then it begins; I was finally taken to the O.R and had my little girl, Asjiah-Fate on September 18th at 6.31pm, weighing 6.6 lbs. She let out a little cry, which they said she wouldn’t do, because she really only had one lung, but she was always surprising them.

They rushed her into the room next to me, trying get her ready to go to Sick Kids, but she just wasn’t stable enough. I just wanted to see her. I had my mom waiting in the waiting room, as I was not allowed anyone in the room with me for delivery. So, they came and took me to recovery and my mom came there, and then they came and said they were going to let me look at her quickly because they were just waiting for her to become stable before they transported her to Sick Kids across the street. My mom came with me. She was beautiful; she had hoses hooked to her but she was so pretty and perfect. I sat there holding her hand, just looking at her. They then took me to my room and took Asjiah to Sick Kids. They called me later that night to tell me they got her to Sick Kids and were still trying to keep her stable.

The next day I was alone and just wanted to go see my baby. I signed myself out of hospital; I had few problems during the time I had her and had a lot of stitches and had her through natural birth, so hospital didn’t really want me to leave, but I was leaving anyway. I walked over to hospital across the street, which felt like the longest walk ever. I went up to the second floor PICU and saw my little girl, where the door read Bailey Girl Baby. They didn’t even have her name. No one asked me her name. So first thing I said to nurse was, “She has a name, can you please put it on the door?”

I sat there as I held her hand. She was so perfect; she had so many machines, but I looked past all that.

Days went by and I decided I was going to drive to Barrie, where I live, to get some stuff and come back .Then I got a call when I was in Barrie. They said she was not doing well, she needed a blood transfusion and they needed me there. I said, “I’m on my way…give her the transfusion, don’t wait for me to get there before you do it.”

I arrived to hospital and as I was walking up, I got call from the doctor telling me to hurry, that Asjiah had had a cardiac arrest and they actually were pumping her chest. The doctor took my sister and me into a family room and sat us down and told us she wasn’t well, she wasn’t going to make it on her own. My eyes filled with tears. I said, “Please save my little girl. She is all I have and I need her.” She then mentioned a machine called “ECMO”; it’s very risky. It is two big hoses going into her neck vessels, one running to heart and the other to her lung, and it would do all the work for her to give her body a break. It circulates her blood. But a risk was that it could cause blood clots. I said, “Do it. There is no other choice,” so they went and took 2 hours roughly to do it. I went in and saw her and as soon as I saw the machine, I cried so hard I had to leave the room. I always heard nurses tell me that Asjiah was such a fighter and had been giving them a run for their money lots of times. I then called Ronald McDonald house to stay there, because there was no way I was leaving Toronto again until I had my baby with me. She was on so much medication since birth to keep her fully sedated and free from any pain or anything. I was so scared of this one machine, but it was keeping her alive. She was on 7 machines total, but this one particular machine scared me so much. She couldn’t have anyone visiting her, I kept it to very few people. Even when she was ok for the day, it could change so quickly, and go from an amazing day to cardiac arrest. So, just to keep her from catching any infections, I needed to keep her from everyone for her heath. I did try to get some family in when she was having an ok day, but know one liked or wanted to see her on the machines.

The doctors told me she got a blood infection and they think that’s what caused her to have the cardiac arrest. They did tests and found out she had e-coli as well. She was just getting all this stuff, making it so much more difficult. We needed to get her in for surgery, but she just wasn’t strong enough; she was on too many machines. So, days went by and I had my cousin come up and see her a few times, and my mom. My sister was staying with me at the Ronald McDonald house for a little while, helping me cope with things. I had my little brother meet Asjiah once as well. It was very hard for me to get anyone in to see her with her heath changing so much. I spent day and night at the hospital, walking back and forth all hours of the night. I wasn’t eating or sleeping, just wondering daily what could go wrong next. 

They then said they needed her to come off ECMO; it had been too long and they wanted her off before they ran into problems. I was so scared because once they took her off, if she didn’t do well and had another cardiac arrest, she couldn’t go back on it, and that’s it. She wouldn’t make it through another cardiac arrest. I left for 2 hours as they took her off. The doctor called, saying she took well to it. So that night I decided to get Asjiah baptized, I didn’t believe from all the hurt I had from previous miscarriages, but I wanted Asjiah to be able to make her own decisions, so I got her baptized in her bed that night. I had her prayed over all the time. I thought I’d give it another shot and try to believe for my daughter.   Every day I went back to Ronald McDonald house to sleep or try to sleep. I was so scared every time my phone rang, thinking something had gone wrong. I would get calls in the middle of night, in the early morning, making me run to hospital to get there. I was not healed from having her, so I was in so much pain, but didn’t think of that at all. I thought my baby was going through way worse, so what I was going through was nothing compared to her. With my ankles so bad I could hardly walk, I just kept running on them.

Then I got a call at 8:30 am that Asjiah had had another cardiac arrest and was gone for 7 minutes, and they brought her back. Then again for 4 minutes and she kept coming back. She was such a fighter and they said she wasn’t going to make it! They took me into a room where all these doctors were surrounding her, manually pumping air to her lungs, and I stood over her crying, so scared as I looked at her blue .This was the worst thing I have ever seen. Then they said, “We think you should finally hold your baby,” and I almost did and something stopped me.  I said, “NO! I’m not letting this be the first time I hold my baby.” They got her back stable and I asked the nurse, “So, how would I have held her with all the machines?” She said, “We really thought that she was not going to make it that day.” I said, “So, you were just going to take her off the machines?” She said, “Yes, we thought that was it.” So basically, they were giving up on my daughter when she was still fighting for her life. I was so angry.

Days went on again and at this point I felt like they just had no hope in my baby girl, and I had asked for core nursing so that I would have same nurses working with Asjiah, because Asjiah had such an attitude with new people. She may not have been awake, but you could see it in her numbers on machines that she was so angry. I questioned everything they did at this point. I needed to know what was going on step by step. I asked doctors daily were they giving up on her, and they said no. Every time I’d go in to see her and she had a new nurse, it seemed like that is when she had really bad days, because they do not know Asjiah like other nurses did.

On October 8th, I got to hospital at 4am. The new nurse said Asjiah was not doing well; her numbers showed good, but her blood work didn’t…her organs were failing. I called my mother in Barrie right away and said get here. The doctor came in and said she wasn’t well, so they wanted to get baby in her mommy’s arms today. The nurse finally did some foot prints that I had asked to do for weeks, but Asjiahs heath was just too bad at that time, so they decided we would do it on this day. I then knew it wasn’t good. My mom and sister arrived there just in time; they were unhooking some of her machines and put her on the machine that they said she wouldn’t do well on, that she needed to be on for her surgery. She was finally in my arms after 3 weeks and I finally held her. I cried and cried. My sister on one side, mother on the other, watching over me as I held her .Then I heard a doctor say, “Let’s get some of these out of your way so you can hold her up like a mom should.” As they cut cords off her I knew she was then gone. My baby, my life, my everything…she was gone!! .My first time holding her had just turned into my last time holding her. My heart was so broken. Why me? Why her? She was fighting…what happened?? I left the room after seeing my baby for the last time, so confused and feeling lost, filled with so much anger and hate.

On our way home, my sister and mom told me the doctor and nurses were turning her machines down slowly until it reached off. My mom and sister thought I knew and it was part of the plan, I didn’t know this was going to happen. I thought she would pass on her own, not with the help of them. I was so angry. I called the doctor, but he said I was prolonging death if I kept her on it. I’m so glad my mom and sister were there for this, and they arranged her funeral as I couldn’t. I had so much help from my cousin as well, who was also Asjiah’s God mommy.

I went from holding my daughter for the first and last time to having to pick out her first outfit and music for her funeral. I held her through all of her funeral service and they had her in her bouncy chair through her viewing. I did not want a coffin and didn’t want her lying down; she had lain down long enough. I knew I was having her cremated, but I needed people to see my baby; I needed to show her off. I didn’t ever expect it to be at her funeral, but that was my only choice. I also had a non-profit organization come in to do private photos of Asjiah on my lap and her dad beside me. They made the pictures look like she was just sleeping. I felt I needed these photos, since all I had was pictures from the hospital with hoses. I needed this for me.

Every day is harder and harder. I miss her so much and I have so much hate toward so many people. I will never understand why one person has to go through so much pain. Then you get people who start avoiding you or make comments like “she’s with the angels”, “she’s in a better place”, “she isn’t suffering”…all these comments you don’t want to hear, all the comments that just anger you more.

Now I have to try to take it one day at a time, except that it’s not a bad dream. She really is gone.

You can contact Shannen at s_hilditch@hotmail.ca.

Dana

Mom to Kaleb Joseph

Born February 20, 2012
Passed February 22, 2012

Baraboo, Wisconsin

My husband and I found out we were pregnant shortly after we were married August 27th. On October 18th, I had gone to the clinic for my yearly PAP. I was told that I would get the results in the mail unless something major was wrong. So that same day at like 4pm, I got a call from the doctor telling me that the blood test had come back and I was 8 weeks pregnant. We were so excited. We set up an ultrasound and my first prenatal checkup. During the ultrasound, the doctor played our baby’s heartbeat on the speaker; it was so amazing to hear. Tears began to build in my eyes as my husband already shed a few. Everything felt so perfect. We told everyone about it, how our child’s heart rate was 176 and strong. So far everything in the pregnancy went great.

At 20 weeks along we had our ultrasound and were informed it was a baby boy. We began picking out names and planning a baby shower. But all that changed so fast…I still wish it was a dream. February 2nd around 5pm, I sat eating dinner and all of a sudden, my right side had some extremely sharp pains. I moved to the floor and tired to get comfortable. My husband, Joe, asked me what was wrong. I told him, and he suggested I try to sleep and see how that works. I woke up around 2am on February 2nd and told my mother about the pain. We went to the doctor’s in Baraboo. I was checked in and taken to the OB  ward and the nurses monitored my baby and made sure I wasn’t having contractions. I asked when the doctor would be in, and I was told he wasn’t going to see me until he did his final morning round around 8am. They told me to sleep and gave me Tylenol and a blanket.

When the doctor came in finally around 8:15am, he pushed on my side and said it was round ligament pain. My mother asked him if it could be my appendix and he said that no, there was no blood in the urine test they ran and I wasn’t running a fever. She was very concerned that he was wrong. She told him that she had had 9 children and the pain I was feeling wasn’t close to being round ligament pain. He still said it was, and sent me home with Tylenol 3′s with codine. I called my OB, and he said he agreed with the doctor’s finding and he didn’t want to see me.

After going to bed and trying to get up it, took me an hour and a half to get up to go to the bathroom. So we decided it was best to get a second opinion, and around 6pm the 3rd of February we went to Sauk Hospital. Upon arrival they were very concerned. I could barely walk and I hurt so badly. They ran a blood test and a urine culture; next was the worst feeling in my life. They came back and said that my blood count was 34,000 and I was being admitted into the OB ward. They said I was smart to come in, because I was on the verge of death. I was so scared we were going to lose our son. I wasn’t really thinking about myself at the time. They pumped me full of IV fluids and antibiotics. They watched me overnight and would come in and listen to my son’s heart beat. It was still strong and fast that I was so happy that it hadn’t affected him.

Come morning, the OB on duty told me that they felt it was my appendix, and that I would need surgery. They had me sign all of these waivers and my mother and husband arrived just before I was taken down to the OR. What should have been a 2-hour ordeal turned into a 5-hour surgery. Turns out when I had seen the doctor the day before in Baraboo, him pushing on my side caused my appendix to rupture. They surgeon had never seen a rupture like mine. It blew up literally and was adhering to everything. They had to unwrap it from around my right ovary and carefully scrape it from the uterus.

Three days later, everything was looking okay and I was being discharged with a lot of antibiotics and pain meds. Not even 1 week later, I began having right side pain again. I had an ultrasound and they didn’t see anything. Baby appeared to be healthy and I was sent home. On February 18th, my pain became worse and I started running a fever. My mother took me to Sauk Hospital E.R. I had the urge to go to the bathroom and I asked; they said it was okay. When I was done, I looked down and there was part of my mucus plug in the toilet. The OB nurse said it wasn’t anything to worry about and they put a pad under me to see how much I was losing. Yet again, I had to pee. Same results, except more this time. Finally the doctor did a pelvic exam and told me that he could see the amniotic sac and that I was dilating. They called my OB in to double-check, and he said that according to the charts, I wasn’t far enough along to go to the Madison Hospitals where they could save my baby. I was very upset at this point, because my OB appointment was that next day, so he figured it out and said he was sorry and I was on my way to St. Marys in Madison. When I got there, they told me it wouldn’t be too long before I had my son.

When my body didn’t dilate any further, they moved me to a different room in the OB floor and put me on bed rest. About a day and a half later, the resident in training came in to check on me. After I asked him not to lay me flat, as I knew the bag would pop, he did anyway, and within seconds of him doing so and turning around, I was lying in a pool of fluids. They rushed me down to a birthing suite and while in the elevator my son was half way out, feet first. I could feel him squirming around as they told me, “Don’t push, don’t push.”

We got to the room, and within seconds my son was born. I never heard him cry and didn’t see him until 3pm that afternoon. They tubed him and rushed him off to NICU. So there I sat, and shortly after a nurse came in and told me that he’s stable and they have him on antibiotics, and he’s in a induced coma and he seems to be a fighter. I was happy to hear this until the 22nd of February, when in my hospital bed we got a call that he’s not going to make it; his kidneys are shutting down and he’ll pass sometime today. We called my family and told them to hurry and get here to say goodbye. Our son, as if he knew they were coming, stayed strong until everyone was there…..as we slowly watched his heart rate drop. I held my angel baby close to me and watched as his little heart finally gave out. I was relieved that he never suffered.

I know that I will see him again and he’ll be just as perfect as the day he was born. In the end, when my appendix ruptured, it had gotten into his blood and when he passed, his blood had an infection that wasn’t caught. But with my go ahead, my son’s legacy will live on as the samples they took are going for research to find a antibiotic that will fight this kind of infection in infants and preemies. So, my son may be gone, but he is part of a bigger picture that could save many lives.

Tia

Mom to Jaron Robert

August 3, 2012 – August 8, 2012

Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada

Being diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome at the early age of 14 felt like a death sentence, as the possibility of infertility was so high. My husband and I had been married 5 years and together for 13. During that time, we had said if pregnancy happens we will embrace it, but if it doesn’t, then we will embrace that, too…although, deep down I think we both wanted a child so badly and were using the “whatever happens, happens” motto to ease our pain. After 6 years of not using contraception, we became pregnant. It was the happiest day of my life. I came into our bedroom hysterically crying, and my husband thought something was wrong until I showed him the stick.

My pregnancy was typical, with nausea and exhaustion. At 15 weeks I lost my mucous plug, but was reassured by my obstetrician that it wouldn’t cause labour. Since I was a registered nurse who worked in labour and delivery and NICU, I was on top of any symptoms and even had a fetal heart rate monitor at home so we could listen to our son at our pleasing. It was reassuring to have that monitor after the mucous plug came out. At 22 weeks and 4 days I noticed some red blood. I went to see my co-workers in labour and delivery, thinking nothing was wrong as my son’s heart rate was normal, because I checked it at home. The resident gave me an internal exam and said I was 2 cm dilated. I was diagnosed with an incompetent cervix. My heart sank. I knew, as a registered nurse, that viability of a newborn is 24 weeks, and my son was only 22 weeks and 4 days. I also knew that if he was to live, the chances of disability were high. I was put on bedrest with bathroom privileges and admitted to the hospital. I was greeted daily by my co-workers to see how I was doing, which made the next four days on bedrest bearable.

At 23 weeks, I went into labour. It was surreal, as if I was the nurse helping this poor family in their time of need, not like I was the patient at all. I gave birth, and my son cried a very tiny cry as only 23-week old babies do. He was whisked away to be resuscitated (at my request and after much discussion with the pediatricians, who although wouldn’t normally recommend it, understood). While they worked on him, I continued to bleed with none of the usual methods working to control it. I required surgery to remove an accessory placental lobe, not realizing that during that time my son could have died, and I would be coming back to the unit without being able to hold him. Thankfully, when I returned from surgery, he was stable. He amazed all my co-workers and doctors, as he didn’t require oxygen or medications, and he was kicking and moving around. He was transferred to another hospital out of town for more intensive care, while we had to wait until 2 days later due to my surgery. Those two days were agony, as I had only seen him briefly before he left. He was doing very well and I was still thinking like a nurse, asking pertinent medical questions, reading his chart, talking shop to the physicians. The nurses said he had such a personality, as he never stopped kicking and moving about, just like he was when inside me. He was doing so well, too, well for a 23-week old baby.

On his 6th day of life, the bomb dropped in the middle of the night. My son contracted pneumonia and his bowel perforated from nectrotizing enterocolitis. He was no longer the jovial little boy in the incubator, but rather very still and guarded. He was on 100% oxygen and requiring medications to keep his blood pressure stable. The decision to stop treatment was an easy one, as I knew the chances of him surviving were low and the chances of lifelong extensive disability were very high. I couldn’t bear seeing him suffering and in pain. Thankfully, my husband and I were able to cuddle, sing to, touch, smell and love our son while he was alive and during his death. He grabbed our fingers, rolled his eyes when I spoke and sucked on his endotracheal tube while we held him. It was the most beautiful, devastating, joyful, unbearable time of our lives. I miss him every day and still feel like the nurse who had a patient who went into labour at 23 weeks and lost her son 6 days later.

You can contact Tia at ktcooney@shaw.ca.

Kylie

Mom to “My Little Potato”

Went to be with God on October 14, 2012

Gray, Tennesse

On Wednesday, October 3rd my dream came true when I found out I was pregnant. I only got to enjoy my little potato for a week. The OB doctor told me something was wrong. He couldn’t find the baby, and the sharp pains I was feeling in my stomach were not looking good. The phone call I got a couple hours later broke my heart.

I can’t explain how within only one week I had fallen in love with this being I never really even had time to know, but I felt like everything I had ever wanted had been ripped away from me in only a matter of moments. A few doctors’ appointments later, they confirmed my miscarriage to be ectopic, and I had to get the injection.

I’ve been through a roller coaster of emotions from depression to hating the world. I’m scared for my future, wondering if I’ll ever get to be a mom. But this much I know: I’ll never forget my angel.

 <3 I would have given you the world, but you got Heaven instead.