The amount of time that
has passed since my last post seems eternal. So much has happened in
these last five months. Five months. I was nearly five months pregnant
on July 7th
2014 when I delivered my son Gabriel who weighed 10 precious ounces. My
husband and I found out I was pregnant a few weeks into March. I
remember sitting alone in the bathroom, waiting for the watermark to
move through the result window revealing a positive
pregnancy test. My husband and I were going to have our third child and
the only thing I could do was laugh. I covered my mouth and laughed,
perhaps it was nerves, perhaps it was shock, I am not too sure. Aaron
was waiting patiently outside the door.
“what does it say?” he asked.
I laughed so hard and
so breathlessly that I couldn’t speak. So I opened the door and managed
to say “I’m pregnant.” And so began our journey.
In the weeks that
followed my thought regarding my pregnancy ranged from “oh shit! THREE
children?!” to “I cannot believe I get to hold another sweet baby in my
arms. I’m so excited!” The
latter remained and I pushed the fear out of me and embraced all that
we would get to do with this new little one. I thought of the afternoon
walks we would take through the woods, I could join a Mommy and Me
class, I would try to breastfeed longer, I would
get to bod with him more, I would be supermom! A tall order for a woman
with three children, this I know, but I dreamt it. Oh, the dreams were
so real I could feel them and every time I placed my hands on my tummy
and every time I closed my eyes I dreamt of
him.
On May 23rd, I noticed a
small brown spot on my underwear in the morning. I was about 13 weeks
pregnant and I made it into the “safe zone.” I knew spotting was normal
in early pregnancy but
it concerned me enough to call the nurse. She told me its most likely
nothing to worry about but to follow up with my doctor on Monday. So I
did. After about a week of continuous spotting I began to have what
seemed like a full on period. Eventually I was
diagnosed with have a Subchorionic Hematoma. 20% of women who have this
go into preterm labour. Well that was that. I remained positive as I
had an 80% chance of having a healthy pregnancy and making it to term.
I felt him move, his heart beat was strong
and by all accounts he was a healthy baby boy so there was no need to
worry.
After many scary experiences which put me in the emergency room 3
times, my doctor thought it best for me to see a High Risk Specialist.
On July 2nd the specialist told
me that I had a membrane rupture and had no amniotic fluid left. I was
19 weeks. Of course since I had been bleeding nonstop for over a month I
never noticed leaking fluid. He went over my options and I remained
calm, but then he said “or, we can schedule
you a time next week to terminate the pregnancy if you don’t go into
labor on your own.” What?! I fell to pieces right there in his office. I
told the doctor that I didn’t want to schedule and induction and that I
would come back again to see if the situation
had change. He was incredibly comforting and kind and understanding,
handing me tissue after tissue, as he told me over and over it was not
my fault, there was nothing I could have done differently.
I called Aaron, sobbing
and told him what the Doctor had said. He took the rest of the day off
work to be by my side. I needed him and he was there and as always he
was strong for me. Each
in our own way we mourned our Son. We mourned the baby that was still
growing side me, that still had a strong heartbeat, that still depended
on me yet we mourned him. With every bit of me I pray and I prayed and I
pray,
God please don’t take my baby! God please don’t make me have to induce! Please God!
That Saturday, July 5th
we decided to get away and go to a cottage that Aaron’s parents were
renting, just for the weekend as we needed to relax and enjoy some time
with the boys.
We would come back on Monday to go to my follow up appointment.
Somewhere around 2am on July 7th, I woke up to what felt like
Braxton hicks so I got up, used the bathroom, drank some water and went
back to bed. Then around 3am I woke up again to
more painful contractions, however they weren’t that painful
certainly not what I remember labor contractions to feel like. I decided
to time them anyways and noticed they were about 40 seconds in length
and came every 5 minutes for the first 3, then
suddenly they were every 2 minutes! How could that happen so fast?
Aaron and I jumped out of bed as I rushed to get ready to head for the
hospital!
“Wait!” I told him right before we were to head out the door. “I have to pee.”
I went into the
bathroom and sat on the toilet, when I looked down I saw the umbilical
cord hanging out! I yelled for Aaron. This part is a blur but I
remaining absolutely still, trying not
to move so that nothing more came out. Somehow I ended up with a towel
in my hand, Aaron doesn’t remember if I asked for it but I think I did. I
looked down again and I could see his tiny feet slowly sliding out. I
calmly and robotically quickly dropped the
towel on the floor, I sort of cupped myself down there and slowly moved
got up from the toilet. As soon as my bottom hit the towel, Gabriel
came out. He never moved, he never took a breath he just laid there limp
in my hands. I screamed and I cried this guttural
cry that echoed throughout the bathroom. I kept saying “No, no, no,
no!!!” over and over. I slightly covered him with the towel whenever
Aaron came by. I don’t know why but I kept saying “Don’t look at him!
Please don’t look!” I suppose I knew that Aaron
needed to remain strong as he called 911 and he did.
It took the EMT 8
minute to find the cottage, and for those 8 minutes I held him. I
studied him; looking at his feet, his toes, his fingernails. The shape
of his face, his nose, his ears.
His little hands, one resting on the side of his face. Gabriel was
fully formed just very tiny, roughly the size of a sweet potato from
head to bum. He did feel “heavier” than I thought he would. He had his
oldest brother’s nose, his father’s feet and face
shape, my pudgy fingers. Then the EMT arrived. They were so nice to me
as they tried to talk me down. One of guys told me his name. At this
point I still had Gabriel blocked off from view. He told me that he
needed to cut the cord, so I lowered the towel.
“Wow,” he said taking in a deep breathe followed by a large exhale. “Okay.”
I could tell by his reaction and the look on his face that he had never seen an 19 week old baby before.
I went to the hospital,
where I stayed in my room and was cared for like any other postpartum
woman. I was given my three meals, I had the nurses come in to check my
bleeding to massage
my uterus. I had a visit from the Chaplin, he prayed with Aaron and I
and spoke to our boys about what happened. They took it well. I asked
over and over for a death certificate even though they don’t issue them
for “miscarriages,” meaning not for less than
20 weeks however since I was so close, only 2 days away, they said they
would. When it was time to check out, I left the hospital with an empty
uterus, empty hands and an empty heart.
The day I left the
hospital, Aaron and I went to the funeral home to make arrangements for
his cremation. I picked out his urn, and we went over the paper work.
They owner told us that everything
would be taken care of and we only had to pay for part of the urn and
some government fee or something. They also said they would take a cast
of his footprint and in 1 month we could expect to get a pendant with
his footprint on it. We then asked to see him
one last time. They prepared him on a white pillow with a white blanket
wrapped around it and had it tucked under his arm making it look like
he was asleep. The put him in a special room and told us to take all the
time we needed. This was a special time for
us. The first week was of course the most difficult, but I will discuss
my grief further in another post, just know that the grief we had for
our son was strong.
There is so much more I
could say, and in time I will find a way to say it but for now I will
end with this. There are so many families out there that are going
through or have gone through
a loss of a child. When we lost Gabriel the one thing that provided me
comfort during those dark hours was to be a part of miscarriage and
child loss support group. I wanted to hear their stories, I wanted
someone to relate to, I wanted to offer support to
other people going through similar situations as well. The reason why I
wrote this, wasn’t just to tell my story but to offer the same comfort
and warmth that I received and continue to receive from those who have
also dealt with a loss. My heart goes out
to you, you are not alone.
From talking with
parents, the one thing that I think all of us want people to acknowledge
or to understand is that our children existed, our children were loved and our
children will never be forgotten.
