I woke up on Thursday, May 5 with a headache, swelling in my hands and feet and elevated blood pressure. All things that I had not experienced the whole pregnancy so I called into the office and they FINALLY told me to come in for a non-stress-test. I wasn't sure if they would keep me so I packed my childrens' bags just in case and finally finished packing my own.
We arrived to the midwive's office and I was called back into the Non-stress-test room where the nurse couldn't quite find the heartbeat. I thought nothing of it but found it strange that she moved me back into another room.....same thing happened....she probed and probed yet couldn't find the heartbeat. She left and I looked at my husband with wide eyes...."she can't find the heartbeat". She came back and picked up a heartbeat but I told her that heartbeat was my own....she left again...tears began to well up in my eyes. She came back and took me to the ultrasound room where a tech put her image on the screen. I had never seen her so still....she was always kicking or waving...but this time, she was just there.....floating. The tech left to "get the doctor" and I looked at my husband and said, "there is no heartbeat." I still didn't REALLY think that she was dead because that couldn't happen....not just a few days before her scheduled arrival....babies don't die and certainly not like this. They just weren't doing something right and the doctor will come in and take a look and she's fine. Well, he probed, and probed....and began asking many questions. All I was thinking was.....WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ASKING ME THESE QUESTIONS....TELL ME SHE'S FINE ALREADY. The one midwife came tearing in the room and put her arms around me, and told me she was so sorry. The rest is a blur.... My life has been a blur now for four and a half months. The doctor doing the ultrasound somewhat scolded her because he "had not told me yet". FUCK HIM! He was STILL probing and asking questions....I didn't give a fuck at that point. She was gone and time just stopped.
They finally left and Larry and I held one another and cried. After a while, I sent him home to pick-up our daughter from preschool and I was given the option of going home with him or starting the induction. Why would I want to go home....what for? To carry around my heavy and dead baby....to prepare for what? She was gone and all I could think was I cannot do this. I cannot do this. They couldn't possibly expect me to go through labor and give birth to my dead baby! I texted my sister to let her know what happened. All I could type was, "baby died...going to labor and delivery". The midwife walked me to labor and delivery and it was like a Spike Lee movie.....everything was happening around me but in a blur, while I was just stuck....floating. I remember her repeatedly saying, "I can't believe this happened".
Very shortly after I got there, my sister came and the midwife had to go back to the office. We sat, talked, cried a bit, my sister asked me questions....me still in complete shock. My sister told me that they could be wrong and she could still be alive and all I could say was..."no, I saw...she's gone". The tears had stopped falling by then because I realized that I was lying in the same room and same bed that I had delivered my daughter three years before then and I was expected to go through the same thing but no happy ending. No moment of pure bliss to hear and hold and see my newborn baby for the first time. "What the fuck" kept repeating in my head. Then I heard footsteps coming towards my room and in walks the midwife (that I dearly love and now call a friend) that I had planned (when I was a simple, ignorant ass) to deliver my living, breathing baby in four days. She sat on the bed, held me and when I somewhat focused on her, I saw the tears running down her face...and I was in total disbelief and shock that this was my life.....A trippy horror film. I don't think I'll ever be able to put my experiences from that day into words...
She walked through everything with me.... and told me that it could take days but my precious baby would come out perfect and she'd do her best to keep me as comfortable as possible. She told me that she hoped to be with me during my labor. I couldn't speak then but again, my mind kept repeating...."what the fuck". My sister called my mother and put her on the phone with me and I remember crying to her and asking...."how does this happen and why couldn't it have happened 20 wks ago"? The latter was an ignorant question because I'm sure I would have been devastated if I lost her at 17wks but I was still thinking.....I'm 4 days away....4 days. I have to tell ya.... It's been 4 months and I'm still repeating the same words...."4 days....you were 4 days away".
My family kept filing in....and I was still in the zone. I just wanted to be alone and alone with my husband. At one point, I did ask for a c-section and I was advised against one. All I was thinking was....there is no fucking way I'm going to labor and give birth to a dead baby...no fucking way. They cannot expect me to go through labor and deliver a dead baby. Well, I did. My family eventually left and I heard crying babies enter the world all night and day and thought to myself....this cannot be real. This is a nightmare....I'm going to wakeup. My favorite midwife was up ALL night delivering live babies and I barely saw her. She did begin my induction around 6pm and loaded me up on drugs. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to work. I got an epidural that took the resident 4 pokes to have the attending take over. It would last about an hour and the pain was excrutiating. The epidural was taken out and put back in again and the pain quickly came back. I basically felt the majority of the labor and a whole lot more than I wanted to feel. Come time to push, I was in horrible pain and couldn't believe that they expected me to push past it. I cried and cried and something in me got me through. I don't think I opened my eyes the whole time I pushed. I can only imagine poor Larry, having to support his poor wife and watch his dead child be delivered at the same time. She came out silently....there was no rush to clear her airway....no rubbing her back to get her breathing....no first cry. Just silence....deafening silence. We asked that they clean her up before we saw her. We were both terrified to look at her. I thought that we missed something....what if she was deformed or sick? I still wanted and needed to see her....seemed like it took forever for them to clean her and when she was finally placed in my arms....I broke down....I couldn't breathe. She was perfect. Well, as perfect as a dead baby could be. BEAUTIFUL. She looked just like her big sister with a head full of dark hair like her biggest sister. Perfect with a huge flaw....a heart that wasn't beating.
My family didn't know that she was born yet but started to arrive. My sister was the only one that held her that day, other than me. A photographer from 'Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep' came and took pictures...pictures that I'm so grateful to have. Pictures, that for many, make others uncomfortable. The thought of taking pictures of your dead baby can seem morbid for some but so incredibly important to a parent who has lost a child. We looked at her perfect little body and picked out all the little parts of her that belonged to us. She had her daddy's hands....my lips...perfect little toes...a head full of hair.
Aren't baby feet amazing??? One of my obsessions...
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