Today, October 15th is Stillbirth and Infant Loss day. Its a day to stop and reflect and remember the beautiful children that we never met, never saw, never held, or never had the chance to take home. Its a day to hold onto the small and few memories we have of the children that are a part of our family but so unreachable and far away.
This is my story. For three years I've pushed these memories out of my mind. I don't deal with sad stuff on my own very well. I don't know how to grieve. I like to be happy. I push the sad down to somewhere deep. It doesn't go away but I can cover it up. After jumping onto facebook and learning about the special day today, I decided its time to go down deep, grab those sad feelings, cry a little bit, and remember my angel baby. After all, Paul and I made her with the hand of God. She is not to repressed but celebrated and remembered.
It was late January. Paul and I had a sad and busy month as we said goodbye to Paul's beloved aunt. Shortly after the funeral, I learned I was pregnant. It was a traditional story where I just knew I was, bought the test, and tested early in the morning. I was delighted to share the news with Paul but waited a couple days because I wanted to plan the perfect way. At that point we had our beautiful boy Max who was about 18 months. I couldn't wait to grow our family.
The next morning I woke up with the dreaded stomach flu. Paul stayed home from work as I was sick all morning long. On complete impulse, I blurted out the news to Paul when he came to check on me in bed. We were so happy and spent the rest of the day talking about adding to our sweet family.
The next few weeks flew by. Before I knew it my 10 week OB appointment was already here. Paul was unable to go so I went by myself. At that point, there was no ultrasound planned that early in pregnancy. The doctor did her routine check up and even searched for the heartbeat. She couldn't detect the heart beat but said she wasn't concerned at all. She said it was just too early to hear it. She did ask that I come back the next day for an ultrasound. Paul arranged to go with me.
We went the next day a bit nervous but not talking about the possibilities. The next few moments are a blur in my memory. The technician of course called me back and conducted the ultrasound. It didn't take her long and she simply said, "No, there is no heartbeat. I'm sorry." And with that, she turned off the machine. That's when I felt tunnel vision. Everything on the edges went black as I felt numb and shock at the news. When she asked me if I wanted a photo of my baby, I was so angry at her and blurted out, "no". I remember thinking, "Why would I want a photo of this horrible moment." That was my biggest biggest regret. I now realize she wasn't trying to capture death but give me the only thing I had to remember my baby's life. Due to my hasty decision, I have nothing to hold onto, touch, or feel from my angel baby.
We of course met with the doctor. Even though I didn't want Paul to touch, talk, or even look at me, I was glad he was there. (That's just how I deal with sadness...I want to completely isolate myself). The doctor said she wanted to conduct a D&C because the ultrasound showed that our baby died at 7 weeks. She said that the baby did have a heartbeat but something happened and we lost her at that point. Therefore, it had been three weeks and I still hadn't naturally miscarried. The doctor explained the risk of infection was high and wanted to conduct the D&C the next day. I couldn't make a decision. For real...I just found out I lost my baby and now this? It was too much to handle. I just shook my head no. She said I had until Monday and then would require the procedure. Paul asked if there was any chance there was a mistake...she said no.
I sobbed the whole way home in the car. I was by myself and I was so glad. I wanted to be alone and just cry. When I got home, I went to my room and crawled into bed and went to a deep and dark place. I remember a dear friend stopped by with ice cream and chocolate. She knew what had happened because she had been babysitting Max during the ultrasound. I didn't want to eat...I didn't want to talk. She didn't ask questions about what happened but she was there for me. Even though I didn't want her there, I will always remember she was there in person and I love her for that. She did give me a hug and tell me something I will never forget as she left. She said, "Kristie...I don't know if you are ever going to have a baby again. But I do know you will somehow be a mother again." I loved her for those words.
The next day I knew I had to get a D&C. I couldn't stand the feeling of carrying around the baby I had lost. I wanted it to be over. Not because it was creepy but because I felt like a failure. I wanted her to be free of me and go to heaven with Jesus where he could take better care of her than me. I called Paul and told him I wanted the D&C. I got one scheduled for the following day.
Paul drove me early the next morning to Lutheran Hospital. I filled out the paperwork and sat in this dingy waiting room while they called my name. Paul and I went back to the pre-op place where they did routine doctor things. I remember the Today show being on and wondering how strange it felt that this was such a normal day for everyone else. We didn't talk much about our baby. WE talked about trivial things and tried to keep it light. Why were we being so strong? We smiled at the nurses and engaged in small talk. Nobody mentioned much about what happened. When it was time for the procedure Paul and I said goodbye to our baby...
I remember waiting on the table and finally crying...silently...but real tears. The nurses bustled about, laughing, and talking about their mornings. I was so alone and I hated it then. I wanted Paul. When the nurses realized I was upset, they said, "Let's just hurry this up...it will soon be over..."
I woke up from surgery calling out, "Max! Max! Max!" I don't know if I had a dream about him or was just holding onto what I had. The nurse asked me who Max was and I told him it was my little boy. In my grogginess, I opened up to her and pleaded with her to tell me that my baby girl was in heaven. The nurse started crying and held my hand. We cried together and she told me my baby girl was safe with Jesus in heaven. The nurse was a beautiful person and I will never forget her kindness.
And then I went home. We didn't talk about her. We don't celebrate her birthday, the day I lost her, or her due date. We don't have anything to remember her by. And we still don't talk about her. Our children don't even know about her. I'm ready to break down those walls. She is our child. I didn't get to hold her, count her toes, rock her to sleep, or listen to her breathe. But she is a part of our family. We have 4 children. Three with us today and one with Jesus.
And she you ask? A baby girl? They do test to see what gender your baby is. I chose not to ask. Because I knew deep down....she was a little baby girl.
So I want to give my baby girl two days to make up for this lost time. March 13th is the day we lost her. That will be a day of remembrance, grieving, and crying. And that's okay. This March we are going to plant something to remember her by. Maybe a flowering tree or maybe some daffodils. But October 4th (her due date). That will be a day to celebrate with the family. It will be a day to celebrate a birthday...of our child. We will have balloons, cake, and smile through the day. And it will be an extra reminder to hold on tight to our three beautiful children with us.
I also want to thank another special friend - Kerry. She found out what happened and went on a walk with me a few months later. Kerry lost a baby much further along. We shared stories and she gave me a huge hug. I will never forget that walk or moments of kindness.
We do need to talk about this. Yes, its common. Several of my friends have had miscarriages or still births. It breaks my heart. I am so glad people open up and talk about it because our babies stories need to be heard.
For at least six months after our miscarriage I begged, pleaded, and asked Jesus to have me dream of our baby girl. Any image...a baby, a girl, a woman...just something remember and know about. Jesus didn't answer that prayer - well - at least the way I wanted him to. But I haven't stopped praying. Whether I will meet her in my dreams or in heaven...I will meet her. And oh how I will hug her.
Daffodils are the flower of March. It means "unequaled love". Ironically it also means "rebirth". While my baby can't be reborn...her memories can. The hidden meaning for the daffodil in the Victorian era is "You are my angel". How beautiful. My angel baby.
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