Mom to Ryley, Timothy and Daniel

March 3, 2004, May 5, 2012 and May 18, 2013

Alvin, TX

You never think your life will end up with your babies dying. I never thought as a kid/teen, that it would end with me losing babies. It is just something that you don’t even think happens. Until it happens. Then it feels like it is going to kill you. I didn’t even know the depth and grief of miscarriage until I had Ryley. It hit me like a ton of bricks.


It’s crazy, I can still remember it like it was yesterday. Every feeling, every moment is as fresh in my mind now, 7 years later [at the time of submission] as it was that day.
It was the first weekend of February, 2004. I went in for my shift a the Golden Palace. It was the weekend and we were slammed, and I mean SLAMMED!!! The other hostess did not show up so I was doing the job of two, alone. Top that off with being 9 weeks pregnant, dizzy and nauseous. My stress and anxiety levels were through the roof that night. I felt like I was having a heart attack.
I took a harmless potty break and I began bleeding BADLY. Now if you know anything, bleeding + pregnancy = BAD! Well my sweet husband happened to show up and we decided if the bleeding has not stopped by the end of my shift then we would go to the E.R.
And to the E.R. we went.
I fully expected to hear that I had lost my baby. I already started preparing mentally for that news. After all the hubub, the ultrasound showed a living healthy little bean of a baby. He measured right at 9 weeks and his heart was beating, he was still alive! That was the first time seeing my baby and I was head over heels in love! I dreamed of our future together. I pictured how perfect our lives would be.
So the doctor sent us home and told me to stay in bed. I had an appointment with my ob/gyn doctor Monday morning. I was just praising God that our little bean was okay that day.
Monday morning I was still bleeding and we in for my appointment. The doctor did a check and an ultrasound. Things looked good, baby measure right on and his little heart was beating away.
I got put on bed rest/no work. I also had doctor appointments twice a week, every week to keep a check on the baby, growth and everything. Things kept measuring right on and things were going perfect……..except the bleeding. It was the most amazing thing. When I look back now, all of those appointment were such a blessing. I got to bond with my son. I got to see him and hear his heart beating. I looked forward to seeing how much he had grown. I look back now and treasure those memories from those appointments.
My appointment on March 3rd, 2004 was at 11:30am. She checked and he had grown quite a bit. He was sleeping and the ultrasound wand woke him up. He wiggled and squirmed and it was so cute. He looked amazing and she told me she was 99% sure that things were going to be okay and that I would carry him to term. I loved seeing him that day because he was so active, little did I know I would be holding him that night.
We went home and all was okay until the early evening. I started having severe cramps. Later, I learned those were actually contractions. I just thought I was dying.
I just kept telling myself over and over what the doctor said, she was 99% sure all would be well. I couldn’t fall into that 1% could I? I couldn’t bare the pain any longer so Matthew called the doctor’s office and she said it was okay and all checked out and I should be fine, but prescribed me some pain pills. Against my instinct I sent Matthew to the store to pick them up. Of course they took forever to fill the prescription.
While my sweet husband was gone I went into the bathroom. There I gave birth to my baby. I was 13 weeks along. This was NOT supposed to be happening.
I passed my son and then the placenta. Then I screamed, I yelled, I cried, I shook my fist at God. I felt so many horrible things that I never knew I could feel.
Then I sat there. Numb. How was I supposed to tell me husband that our baby had died? Why me? Why was this happening to us?
Once I regained some composure I really looked at my baby. I did what any parent does and I counted his fingers and toes. Yep, he had all of them. He had the most tiny little delicate fingers and toes with little fingernails and toenails growing. He had my feet for sure. Long and skinny. I was also able to see that he was a he. The doctor later told me that if it had been any earlier of a loss that we wouldn’t have been able to tell. What a blessing to get to know. I am so thankful that we got to know the gender. Little Ryley Jacob fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.
Matthew came home and all that I could say was “he’s gone” and all Matthew could manage to say was “WHAT??” Then he came in and saw for himself.
That was the first time I had seen my husband really cry.
We cleaned Ryley up and took some video and pictures of him. Then we went downstairs to get ready to head to the hospital.
Matthew stopped and he started playing Jesus Loves Me on the piano. I sat on the couch with our son and cried my guts out. To this day, that song still makes me cry this many years later.
Matthew called our pastor and told him what happened. It just happened to be during church and everyone stopped and prayed. I felt those prayers. We felt those prayers. Those prayers kept us together, kept us sane.
We headed to the E.R. Stupid, stupid doctors. It was just an awful trip in there. The most stupid question I was asked “What makes you think you are having a miscarriage?” I was like “DUH!! My son is in this cup that I already told you about”. It was just the most horrible experience ever. After all the bad, the chaplain came in. She was a God-send. She prayed with us, she gave us pamphlets and information on loss. The best thing she did was take out this plaster mold thing and her and the nurse made us a hand and foot prints of our son. I cherish that to this day. It is the only “Proof” that I can display and show someone who asks. Yes, our son was real. It wasn’t “just a miscarriage”. I hate it when people say that. Anyways, I cherish those prints. They are barely visible because his hands and feet were so tiny and fragile, but she got them good enough for me. I will never forget the love and compassion the chaplain showed us when we had such a hard time with the rest of the hospital staff.
We made sure that they released Ryley to the funeral home so that we could give our son a proper burial. They did tests on him and then sent him over to the funeral place.
After we left the hospital, we went out to Kelso to Shari’s to eat though neither of us were hungry. We were both numb. I was numb. I was sick and numb. I was still in shock, I was carrying new life one second and the next it was all gone. How could it be over so fast?
My loss, I remember so clearly. The healing process is all a blur. Some of it stands out though. I have shared the story of my loss before many, many times, but I have never really written out what  happened like this. I wanted to document it, one day my kids may want to know what really happened when they are much older. I want to be able to tell them and not leave anything out. I also hope that someone may be helped by reading my story and seeing that there is healing after a loss. There is hope and there is happiness. And that through it all God IS GOOD.
When Ryley died, I found out that I had a thyroid problem, lost Ryley in March and had my thyroid removed in May to test for thyroid cancer. 
In 2012, after months of trying, God blessed us with Timothy!
I was so so sick with my little guy. But I was so happy. I would just praise God that the sick meant that things are going well.
At about 14 weeks into my pregnancy I started detaching myself, I started feeling dread, I started feeling like something bad was going to happen. Was God preparing me for losing my baby? Maybe. I told Him I could not handle another loss. I would have a breakdown. Maybe He was giving me a small heads up or something. I do not know. I did not speak a word of my fears to anyone until about 16 weeks or so and I texted my sister. I told her that I am feeling like I will be getting bad news soon, and the fear is starting to consume me. I tried to brush it off and pray for joy…. I could not brush it off.
At my doctor’s appointment that week, he pulled out the ultrasound wand like usual and checked the baby. He was unusually quick this time. The dumb doctor NEVER showed me my baby, but luckily Matthew was there over his shoulder looking. Well, Matthew did not see our baby move and saw no heartbeat. The doctor did not seem concerned though, so Matthew just brushed it off, maybe he did not see correctly or something. I mean, a doctor wouldn’t see a dead baby and not tell us…..right? I began feeling Timothy move around 13 weeks, and did not feel another movement after 16 weeks. That is another reason the dread and fear never left.
That was at 16.5 weeks, at 17.5 weeks I had a nurse appointment, and then at 18.5 weeks we went for our big ultrasound. I journaled that day “Either the technician is going to tell us happily the gender, or tell us to wait because she has to go get the doctor”. I tried to be excited for that appointment, when I texted people I used lots of !!!! and tried….but in my heart I was not happy or excited. I was scared and already a little brokenhearted.
She told us our baby was not moving and she had to go and get the doctor. Then I could not breathe, my chest got tight and I got dizzy…… anxiety attack….. The doctor confirmed that our baby was dead. Our son was gone. The doctor was excellent, very caring and answered all of our questions very very well. He told us the sooner we checked in to deliver, the better.
We asked for a minute, they left, we cried, and cried and cried…… our poor kids did not know what was happening. Trevor didn’t care and when Hannah realized no baby would be coming home with us, she was so sad.
We left there broken and sad. We began the string of texting people and facebooking our devastating news. The more people we could tell without calling or being face to face, the better.
After making arrangements for Trevor and Hannah and getting an appointment with the hospital, we got it all set to go and would arrive there at 8:30am on May 4th……….ending the day with a lot of tears and no sleep, and a 1am bowl of cereal with my honey, and then more tears….
We got the sitter here and left, we checked into the hospital. I am so thankful for Matthew. He did all of the talking. He did it all. He checked me in, and I went to sit down, and then the lady that checked us in came over and hands me a packet of info on BREASTFEEDING!!! Did she not even peek at the notes while checking me in??? OMG, I was holding it together so well and then I lost it. Then some more waiting and then a doctor came to talk to us, the same one from the previous day. Again, I cried. Then seeing pregnant women coming and checking in, cried some more. Wow, my heart was broken. I longed for my baby to be alive and kicking and moving and growing. This sucks!!
We finally got in a room. They put a leaf and water drop thing on the door so people coming in would know that this was a sad time and not a joyous one, they would know to be extra sensitive. The first nurse said she knew exactly what I was going through and was very sweet. Every loss is different so you don’t really know exactly what I am going through though….I hate when people say that. She was very nice and caring though. All of the nurses and doctors were.
We waited until like 12:30pm for them to administer the first dose of the induction medicine. I got the meds at 12:30pm, 4:30pm, 8:30pm and then pitocin after that. My water broke somewhere between the 4:30pm and 8:30pm meds, but I was not dilating at all really. Thankfully this was all a blur and I had morphine. That stuff saved me from the pain and also dulled the emotional pain. (not advocating drugs to dull heartbreak though) at around 5:20am on May 5th I started feeling pressure and the need to push, I held it off as long as I could and then yelled for Matthew, he yelled for a nurse who yelled for the doctor, I had to push, just as the doctor was coming in. I delivered my baby and then the tears, panic, fear and heartbreak set in. My whole body began shaking terribly, my chest hurt, I could not breathe and I felt like my world was falling apart.
No parent should go through labor and delivery and not get to hear their baby cry…..
Through all the shaking and hyperventilating all I remember is Matthew’s face, softly and calmly telling me to breathe. I cry just thinking about it now because when I locked eyes with his, and heard his soft voice, and I calmed down instantly and began to breathe.
Then the doctors were asking me if I was sure I wanted to see my baby….. I was like “YES” but he did not look good, he had passed away in the womb longer than they had anticipated I guess. Matthew told me “it’s okay, it’s okay, yes you want to see him” and I did. I held my precious baby boy and cried some more. The sweet nurse took him over and cleaned him up while I finished with the doctor, and then they brought him back. I got to look at him some more, I checked his tiny little feet, I counted his precious little toes, I checked his little fingers, I stared into his little tiny face, I marveled at his tiny little ears and his cute little mouth. And my heart broke more….. I would never hear his sweet newborn cry. I would never change a dirty diaper, I would never get up in the middle of the night with him, I would never see his first steps, or feed him his first real food. I would never get to teach him or see him learn and grow. I was grieving for all of the “never’s”.
We got to spend time with him and then they took him down and took a picture for us and we got his footprints on a card, they could not get his little hands, they were too fragile. They brought us a memory box with a little bear and a small blanket and some other things along with his picture. They brought Timothy back and we said one more goodbye.
We got a bit of rest and eventually they moved us to make room for someone that was giving birth to a live baby. I understood they needed to do that but I also felt like “your baby is dead and gone, time to shove you off and make room for someone that really needs this space” and we got put in this tiny triangle of a room that was very old and creepy looking.
The doctor came in after a bit and we demanded to go home that day. They usually keep you 24 hours after giving birth, but I said NO!!! So she made us stay 12 hours and ended up letting us go home at 5:30pm.
We got home and rested.
Now I forgot to add, the doctors could not tell me why my son had died. They said chromosomal something maybe, I say it was regarding my thyroid again. Mommy instinct is never wrong. I told the doctor about my nausea, he wouldn’t give me medicine for that, so I keep throwing up my thyroid medicine… I was probably not getting the dosage I needed to keep my levels normal in the time between when the levels were checked. It all pans out and makes sense, but they wouldn’t agree with me.
After about 8 months of healing we found out that our sweet Daniel was on his way. The fear and worry were like a huge elephant sitting on my chest. The doctors were checking my thyroid once a month, I went to the doctor twice a month and we were seeing Daniel growing and looking so healthy. His heartbeat was so good and strong and he was moving and so very cute and sweet.
Before my 16 week appointment, Matthew changed. He was worried. I saw it is his eyes. I knew the worry and dread feeling because I had it myself. God slightly prepared us I think. We went in to my 16 week appointment with fear. The doctor came in all happy and bubbly and asked how I was and if I had any questions. I told her that I have great anxiety this appointment and I just want to check my baby now. I knew he was gone the minute she put the ultrasound wand on my stomach. She usually was quick to say “Look at your little babe!” and this time she was silent.
I went hysterical, Matthew embraced me and we cried for a good while together. In the midst of our tears we hear Trevor say “Looks like another funeral”
My kids were unphased. My kids shouldn’t know that babies die. I think that’s what makes me the most angry. I think they had to grow up too fast. No little ones should know that babies die. It is wrong.
We got to leave the hospital out the back door. I was thankful that people wouldn’t be staring at my tear streaked face. I was a mess. We went home, found childcare for the kids and were at the hospital by 4:30pm checking in.
We waited in the waiting room with pregnant women checking in to give birth and one annoying loud lady that couldn’t control her kids and made my blood pressure rise.
Quite a bit later we got taken back to triage. A cold small room with a hard bed. When the doctor finally came in they did one last check for a heartbeat and just confirmed again that my baby was dead. Then they gave me the medicine to hopefully get labor moving.
Now here is the shitty thing (sorry for the swear word). But because I wasn’t far enough along, I could not be on the labor and delivery floor. My baby was referred to as a specimen more than one time by more than one person. I was booted up to another floor in a crappy room with crappy care when we first got there. The doctor that came in first was rude. She leaned on the counter all the way across the room from me. She answered my questions with one word answers and she was a totally cold, uncaring jerk. I was shocked to find out that she was a 4th year resident. The interns that later came in were amazing and I hope they never get as cold as this lady was. The nurse that I had with the stupid doctor was not good either. She was nice and all but she did not have a lot of skill. She went to put my IV in and blew a vein. She blamed it on me being dehydrated (me who drinks buckets of water) and then she tried another vein and blew that. It hurts freaking bad when that happens!! Let me tell ya! So she had to go get an ICU nurse to come and place the IV.
Then we sat and waited and waited for some progress in my labor. My days are blurry, because that morphine button was my friend. I kept pushing it as often as I could.
Saturday at 1:38pm I finally delivered my baby. I waited all night Thursday and all day and night Friday and all morning Saturday. It was torture and horrible. I felt like I was going crazy, sitting there laboring, waiting for my dead child to be born. But there he was after all that time and several doses of the meds. They were almost going to give me a d&c to get him out. I was thankful that he was born whole. He looked perfect. He had a perfect little nose, and tiny perfect little fingers and toes. He was perfect in every way.
The trouble was now that all of the placenta did not come out. They took me into another room and tried to scrape it out. Can I just say HELL. It was the most horrible pain of my life. I probably bit my lip so hard that I bled. I just was thankful to have my husband’s hand to squeeze and his perfect voice in my ear telling me to breathe and that I was doing so good. I would not have survived without him. Anyways, after that torture they still couldn’t get that placenta out. So we waited and got more meds to see if it would come out by morning and it did not.
Sunday morning I went to for a d&c. I sat in the waiting area and then got wheeled back to the operating room. It was really scary. It is always scary going under anesthesia. They put the breathing mask over my face and I was out. I woke up crying. I don’t remember why or anything. I just remember tears rolling down my face. Matthew said that the doctor came out and said I was very emotional in there. I don’t know what was up. I woke up and felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was hacking and coughing and my throat hurt. I woke up though and got to see my sweet mans face.
We got wheeled back to my room and waited a bit. Matthew had to leave for a job that he couldn’t cancel and then he went to pick up our kids and by 6:30pm I was going home.
Now I know I left a lot of things out, but like I said it was all such a blur for me. A horrible nightmare of a blur.
One thing that will always stick in my mind was the nurse Roselyn. She was sent from God. I get teary eyed thinking about her. She was on the weekend day shift. I got her from 7am to 7pm. She had lost babies herself and she was so tender-hearted and compassionate. She talked with us and was just so sweet and supportive. The day I was leaving she ran in and hugged me. Just the sweetest nurse ever. I hope she goes on the become a doctor because she was amazing.
I have so many feelings right now, I am on overload and am numb. I am shocked and numb and mad and sad. I will blog and post whatever I need to when ever I need to in order to get through this with my sanity and my faith still in tact. I am not wallowing in my grief. I know other people grieve too. I am not depressed. I am not any of the stupid things people have already said to me. I held my dead baby just a few short days ago [at time of submission] and I have a right to be sad if I want to and I have a right to…..well……do whatever I want to. I will not have anyone telling me how to grieve or that I shouldn’t grieve and I should choose to move on (I was told that while I was still sitting in my hospital bed….) I don’t need people to respond to what I write. I am not looking for sympathy or words or anything. I am just looking to get crap off of my chest and this is how I choose to do it! I will soon have two boys buried right next to each other and it kills me… just let me be!
The biggest thing that I want people to know by reading my stories of loss is that GOD IS GOOD. I have been mad at Him, and have yelled and screamed to Him. I have quit reading my Bible and quit praying and quit going to church…….none of it made me feel any better. The only thing that brought me healing was diving into His word and staying in His word. Being in a constant state of prayer……begging God to carry me. If I didn’t have Him in my life and my heart I would totally be in the loony bin right now, because I know I would have had at least one mental break. God is good, bad things happens but, He is good. He hurts for us, He knows our pain. He cares. He loves us and wants to bring us healing.
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