Hello, Goodbye

 


There were a lot of things that I worried about going wrong during pregnancy, but having a child that was stillborn wasn’t one of them.  I knew there was a higher risk of miscarriage during the first trimester.  I knew there could be a possibility of having a child with special needs. I knew that if the baby was born too soon, their body might not be mature enough to survive outside the womb.  I never imagined that I would have a “picture perfect” pregnancy, carry a perfectly healthy baby to full-term, and then have my baby die inside of me… for reasons that no one could explain.  Call me naïve, but I didn’t even know what the word stillbirth meant before it happened to me.  With innocence shattered, I am now a statistic… 1 in 200 babies die every year from stillbirth.



Wednesday, August 10th, 2011 (40 weeks and 2 days)
On Wednesday, the routine visit to the doctor’s office went fairly normal.  Dr. Gfeller was out of town, so I was scheduled to see his “on call” doctor.  Dr. McNeely checked for the heartbeat, and showed me the readout on the Doppler.  137.  “That seems lower than usual,” I said, part statement, part question.  (Evan’s heartbeat is usually between 150-160bpm.)  “He’s snoozing,” was the reply.  “It’s still within the normal range for a heartbeat.”  So, I told myself not to worry.  Was this a sign that he was in distress??  Dr. McNeely checked for dilation and effacement… 50% effaced, but not even a full 1cm dilated.  I went back to work in my classroom after the doctor’s appointment and stayed into the late hours of the night.  Should I not have worked so many long hours??  Was I under too much stress??  I came home and started feeling some contractions that I thought might be the start of labor, so I texted Cody @ 10:25pm… “Be ready-tomorrow may be the day.”  Cody had agreed to stay at our house and watch Wriggley while we were in the hospital.  As I had been doing for so many nights now, I started out sleeping in bed, laying on the left side, then the right side.  Sometime between 3am-5am, I would move to the reclining couch in the living room to sleep out there because my hips hurt so bad from all of the weight bearing down on them.  I put the feet up but didn’t recline, as I knew you weren’t supposed to sleep on your back during the last trimester. Was I leaning too far back on the couch??

Thursday, August 11th, 2011 (40 weeks and 3 days)
I almost didn’t go to work Thursday morning.  I had seriously considered starting maternity leave early.  I wasn’t in labor yet, but I was simply wiped out… and I had a headache.  Was that a sign that something was wrong??  If I had stayed home, would I have been able to change the outcome of events??  I sent a message to my sub asking her if she was planning on going to school that day.  She was.  I didn’t have to go in, but for some reason I made myself get up and go.  I didn’t even shower.  I pulled my hair up in a clip, threw on some “work day” clothes, and cried as I asked James to put the dog in “her room” so I wouldn’t have to.  Once I got to school, the headache went away and I was fine.  Michelle and I worked to make sure that the room was ready for Open House later that evening.  We all went out to lunch at the China Buffet, but other than that I was on my feet most of the day moving and arranging things, getting classroom materials ready.  I went home to shower and get ready for Open House.  I sat on the couch for awhile, and then mentioned to James that I didn’t think I’d felt movement all day.  I pushed on my stomach trying to get the baby to move, and nothing.  But there have been other times I’d tried to get him to move and he didn’t respond, and he was fine.  I was active all day, and he was probably just lulled to sleep by all of my movements.  Labor is coming any time, he is probably just resting up for labor and delivery.  There isn’t much room for him to move around in anyway.  Maybe he HAD moved and I just didn’t notice.  James was getting ready for his bowling tournament that night where his team was going to be awarded the first place trophy, so his mind was focused on that.  It was 5:30 and my doctor’s office was closed.  I would have to go to the Emergency Room, and I didn’t want to have to pay for that if I was just being paranoid.  James didn’t seem to think I needed to rush off to the ER, and we were just at the doctor’s office yesterday.  Everything was fine then, so I convinced myself that I didn’t need to worry.  Pastor Aaron had just preached a sermon about not worrying too much.  Besides that, I didn’t want to be the over-anxious mother that everyone (including me) knew I was going to be.  The thought that calmed me down and kept me from going to the doctor that night was that there had been other times during the pregnancy where it seemed like there were long periods of time where I didn’t feel movement.  Then he would start moving again, or we’d have our next appointment and hear the heartbeat and find out that everything really was okay.  We had just been to the doctor YESTERDAY… everything had to be okay.
I went to Open House and again, I was on my feet all night.  As soon as families started arriving, I felt extremely hot and quickly went to the thermostat to turn it down.  I thought at the time that it was just from so many people in the room, but was that a sign that something was wrong??  After it was all over, my colleagues, friends and I joked that NOW it was okay for Evan to be born.  It was time to try all of those “home remedies” for inducing labor… pineapple, spicy food, cleaning, sex.  I had wanted Evan to wait to be born until after I had gotten a chance to “start the school year” so I could make sure that all the details had been worked out for the substitute.  I am a planner (which I suppose is my not-so-subtle way of calling myself a control freak).  I had joked throughout the whole pregnancy about how I had “talks” with Evan telling him he couldn't be born until after his due date.  Now I joked that he had listened to his mama when I told him he had to wait to be born until August 12th.
Everything had worked out perfectly… or so I thought at the time.  I wish I hadn’t said I wanted him to wait to be born.  If I had only known that Evan wouldn’t survive that long.  Would Dr. Gfeller have scheduled me to be induced sooner if I hadn’t been pushing so hard to keep working??  I still had the worrisome feeling that I hadn’t felt Evan move all day.  I shared this with my friends as we were getting ready to leave for the night.  They shared the same rationalizations that I had given myself earlier that evening… he was rocked to sleep by my movements, movements slow down close to delivery time, he doesn’t have much room to move anyways, maybe he had moved and I was too busy to notice.  I didn’t give it a second thought at that point.  I figured everything was okay.  I kept focusing on the minor contractions I was having, and assumed that both Evan and my body were preparing for labor.  I went to the bowling alley so I could support James and the team in their first place bowling victory.  Looking back now, I am so angry with myself for not going to the doctor sooner.  I knew something was wrong, how had I convinced myself there wasn’t??
Friday, August 12th, 2011 (40 weeks and 4 days)
Friday morning, I kept feeling contractions as I sat at my desk and worked on lesson plans with my team.  By Friday afternoon, I made the call to the doctor’s office.  I had been sitting down at my desk all morning working at my computer… not up and moving around rocking the baby to sleep.  I still didn’t feel anything.  I didn’t want to panic, but the more I let myself think about it, I knew.  Yet I still questioned that there was anything I should be worrying about.  I thought maybe the receptionist would schedule me for a late afternoon appointment, as they had done every other time, so that James could get off work and come with me. The secretary didn’t hesitate, “How soon can you get here?”  “I can be there in half an hour,” I replied.  I went to tell my principal that I was leaving early for a doctor’s appointment, and to discuss a couple other details of my maternity leave. I quickly packed up some things in my teacher crate, and rushed out the door.  I called James to let him know I was on my way to the doctor’s office because I still hadn’t felt any movement.   I could feel my throat start to tighten as I drove.  I didn’t know, but I knew.  I told myself not to panic, because I didn’t know anything for sure.
          I usually don’t have to wait long at the doctor’s office, but it seemed like there was an even greater “swiftness” in the nurse’s actions as they checked me in that afternoon.  Dr. McNeely was also quick to come into the exam room.  “What’s going on?”  “I haven’t felt any movement in a couple of days,” I said, hoping that my confession wouldn’t be cause for alarm.  He practically screamed at me, “A couple of days?!  Elizabeth, why did you wait two days to come in?”  I could barely muster a reply… “I didn’t want to worry or panic,” I said in a barely audible voice.
The next minute was the longest minute of my life.  He put the Doppler on my stomach and began fervently searching for a heartbeat.  Only silence.  I had to remind myself to breathe.  He’s searching in the wrong place, he’s up too high.  Dr. Gfeller always puts the Doppler lower on my stomach.  As soon as he puts it in the right spot, he’ll find the heartbeat.  I knew this wasn’t true, but I was trying to hold on to something.  My very worst fear was being realized.  He kept moving the Doppler around, but only up high.  Silence.  Finally he moved the Doppler to my lower abdomen.  Only silence.  I stopped holding my breath and felt my heart sink in my chest.  “Has Dr. Gfeller ever had trouble finding the heartbeat?”  Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head no.  He didn’t have to say the words… I knew my baby was gone. 
“Where is your husband?  Do you want me to call him?” the doctor asked.  In my heart, I felt like I should be the one to tell James, but all I could manage to say was “sure”.  My world was spinning out of control, and I was helpless to stop it.  I knew what was happening but I tried not to think about it.  The doctor left, and I cried.  Before I could even think my next thought, the nurse came in to sit with me.  A nurse I didn’t even know.  I was on Dr. McNeely’s side of the office, with no one I knew.  “Do you need water?”  “No.”  “Kleenex?”  “Sure.”  My ability to communicate had been reduced to one word answers.  Dr. McNeely came in and began describing what would happen next.  Ultrasound.  Hospital.  Induction.  Epidural.  Then he rushed out the door as quickly as he came in.  Hunh?  No, “I’m sorry”?  No, “can I get you anything?”  No, “do you need time to grieve?" “You must be a really horrible mother if it took you so long to come in when you thought something was wrong with your baby.  Let’s just get this situation over with,” was the impression I got from Dr. McNeely.  I didn’t question his response - I felt like a horrible mother.
Elaine, Dr. Gfeller's nurse, came in to be with me shortly thereafter.  She hugged me and I cried.  She went to get me a glass of water, and that is when James came in.  We hugged and we cried… but barely had any time alone before Dr. McNeely came bursting in the room again.  He described again what would happen next.  Ultrasound, hospital, induction, epidural.  All I could make sense of was the first thing… ultrasound.  If we are going to get an ultrasound, that must mean there is still some sort of chance, right?  There might be a heartbeat that is so faint that the Doppler couldn’t detect it?  “Is there any hope that he’s still alive?” I asked.  “There’s always hope,” he replied with his back to us as he walked out the door.  As we headed to the office where we were going to get the ultrasound, however, I realized that he couldn’t have possibly thought there was any chance of survival, or we would be heading straight to the emergency room rather than another “office”. 
The first person I called was my dear friend, Linda from church.  I wanted our request for prayer put on the prayer chain at church, and I also knew that she would be there for me as a friend. 

Sylvana
Aug 12

3:39pm
Received a call from Linda.................

Liz went in for a check- up on the baby and no heartbeat was found

Liz and James are on their way to the hospital for further testing

Please pray they will find a heartbeat and that the baby is fine
Pray for Liz and James and also for the medical team

Linda will keep us updated

I called Christy at school so she could let Kristen and Michelle know what was happening.  It didn’t take long for us to arrive at the place for the ultrasound.  We went to the wrong office first, and we were told to drive around to the back of the building.  I remember sitting there in that waiting room for what seemed like forever.  My whole world was crumbling and they expected me to sit calmly in a waiting room??  The two ladies at the receptionist desk visited amongst themselves, completely oblivious to the pain and anguish that I was feeling as I sat right across from them.  Unaware of the events that had transpired in the last hour, Ashley texted me a message with a photo of her son: “Jackson says, ‘please come out Evan so you can play with me.’”  I didn’t cry because I was still in shock over everything that was happening, but I wanted to text her back and ask her to pray for us.  James told me I shouldn’t text her with news like this, so I waited. 
Finally a woman called us back to a room, and asked me to lie down on the bed next to the monitor.  I knew I couldn’t look at that monitor.  I couldn’t look at the images of a baby, my son, who was no longer moving.  I couldn’t look at his face that no longer smiled or yawned, nor look at his heart that no longer beat.  I couldn’t do it.  James held my hand as I laid there.  I wanted to have hope, but I knew.  This ultrasound was so much different than the last one.  Silence.  Silent people.  Silent machines.  Silence coming from my womb.  The tech scanned, James held my hand as he watched the monitor, and I lay there with silent tears in my eyes staring blankly at the dark ceiling.  The longer the silence lasted, the heavier the realization was that there was no hope.  The tech left and said she was going to call the doctor.  Dr. McNeely uncompassionately came on the phone, and said that it was time to go to the hospital.  “The baby has died, so you’ll need to go to the hospital to be induced.” 
That’s when the realization hit me that, not only had I lost my baby, but I was still going to have to deliver him anyways.  Wow… how do I do that ??  I had to mentally, emotionally, and physically gather up the strength to go through labor, the whole time knowing that there would not be a happy outcome at the end to make it all worthwhile.  How do I do that??  I called Linda back as we drove to the hospital, and she told me that she was already at the hospital waiting for me to arrive.  She said that Pastor Aaron was already on his way to the hospital as well.

Sylvana
show details Aug 12

4:58pm
Linda just called to say that the medical reports show that Liz and James lost their full term baby

Please pray for Liz and the next medical procedures and for both her and James through this time

I had tried to call my brother Mark before the ultrasound but couldn’t reach him, and James had tried to call him as we sat in the ultrasound exam room waiting to hear from the doctor.  I called again while we were on our way to the hospital, and was finally able to talk to him.  I called Ashley and Christy.  I called my mom at work.  I tried to call Melanie but accidentally ended up calling Dan’s cell phone instead.  I thought I was doing a good job of staying calm, and “holding it together”, but this was the first sign that reality was starting to get to me.  We ended up losing cell reception, and I couldn’t call him back. 
I had so been looking forward to calling everyone to tell them we were on our way to the hospital… and everyone was excitedly anticipating the news that we were on our way to the hospital.  However, this was not the joyous occasion that it should have been.  I was about to have a baby… that was no longer alive.  How do I do that??
I walked through the hospital in a daze.  I had to go to the bathroom, and so I stopped on the main floor to go before we went up to Labor and Delivery.  I rode the elevator in a daze, and I walked past the first nurse’s station (post-partum area) in a daze.  “Do you know where you’re going?” they asked. 
“Umm, yeah,” I replied.  I knew where I was going; I had taken the hospital tour.  I had done everything I could possibly think of to get ready for labor and delivery, only this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  Nothing was going according to “plan”.  Control-Freak Liz had a “plan” for everything… thought that I had thought of everything. 
Hadn’t thought of this.
I held James’s hand as we walked down the long hallways, past pictures of healthy, smiling babies on the wall, past rooms with bassinets that my baby wouldn’t get to sleep in.  I hadn’t even showered that day.  My “plan” was that when labor started, I would go home and spend the first part of early labor showering and gathering up last minute things to take to the hospital, trying to distract myself as long as possible.  Then we would head to the hospital when contractions got stronger and closer together.  This was not part of the plan.
It was about 4:30 in the afternoon when we walked up to the L&D desk and told them our name.  The nurses knew to be expecting us.  “You have some visitors in the lounge across the hall.”  Linda and Pastor Aaron were there in the waiting room, and gave us both hugs.  Then, the nurse walked James and me down and around the long hallway, to the back of the L&D area.  Away from all of the other laboring moms, so we could have some privacy… so we wouldn’t have to hear the cries of other babies being born.  We were told that this was the room we would be in during the entire length of our hospital stay; we wouldn’t have to be transferred to post-partum where the “other moms” got to go with their healthy babies.  The nurse placed a hospital gown on the bed, told me to change into it and then she would be back “in a bit”. 
All afternoon had been a rush of activities… rush to the doctor’s, rush to find the heartbeat, rush to the ultrasound, rush to call everyone before we got to the hospital, rush to get to the hospital.  After I had changed, Linda and Aaron came into the room to visit.  The nurse came back in what seemed like no time at all, to ask if I was “ready”.  Ummm, no.  Seemed like she was in a hurry too. 
“Can I have some time?” I asked.
At that moment, the racing clock seemed to slow down, and everyone seemed to realize that I needed time to process everything that was happening to me.  The nurse told me to push the call button when I was ready, and didn’t come back in for awhile.  I sent James home to get the “labor bags” that I had packed (which were actually two suitcases stuffed so full you could barely zip them).  If I was going to have to go through labor just the way any other mom would, then I wanted to have the things I had packed.
At this point, details become a little fuzzy.  I remember Linda telling me that it was okay to be angry.  At that time, I didn’t feel angry.  I was in so much shock, and under so much stress, that I didn’t feel (or want to feel) much of anything.  Other family and friends began showing up at the hospital.  I hadn't asked anyone to come, but the immediate outpouring of support from friends and family members was appreciated.  I remember Mark and Ashley were the first ones there.  The nurse came back in while James was gone, but I did not want to get labor started until James could be there with me.  So I visited with the people that had come to the hospital.  We cried for a bit, but I knew I had to stay strong.  Mark and Pastor Aaron were telling stories and laughing to keep me distracted.  They were just taking their cues from me; this is what I wanted them to do.  I was already worn out from a long week at work, and knew I was still in for a long night/day of going through labor.  I couldn’t expend too much energy crying right now.
Paula, the principal at the school where I work, sent out a mass call to staff around 6:45pm letting them know what happened.  I just remember taking in all of the information around me as if I were a third party, like it was a sad situation, but somehow it wasn’t really happening to ME.
A message from **** ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

This is Paula from ****** Elementary. I am sorry to call you on a week-end, but I have some hard news to share. Liz is a 2nd grade teacher at *****. She and her husband were expecting their first baby to be born any day now. Liz became concerned about the baby today and went to her doctor. They discovered that the baby had died. Liz' teaching team is with her and her husband at the hospital and I will go shortly. I would like to offer an opportunity for any staff members who would like to gather together to come to my home tomorrow morning any time between 10:00 and 11:30. My address is ******.  I talked with Pam of the LPS Crisis Team. She and several others from the team will be available at my house to help us. We will rally around Liz and her husband and her team and support them in whatever way is best. I also know that this is a staff who will support each other as we all grieve this loss in different ways. I thank you for your compassion. The crisis team will also help us work with Liz' students and families that will be impacted by the news. Please call me if you need to.

I was told that the staff had gathered together in the lounge at the end of the day after I called Christy the first time, on our way to the ultrasound.  Jacqueline, Christy, and Kristen came in with flowers and a chocolate bar.  Paula and Sara C. came.  James’s parents came.  My mom came at some point.  Other people began telling stories to distract me and keep me from crying.   It was my coping mechanism for the evening.  I didn’t want to cry… I felt I had to stay focused and conserve energy for labor and delivery.  There would be plenty of time for crying later.  The nurse brought in a packet of materials for grieving families.  Usually, when presented with informational pamphlets, brochures, or books, I read them right away so that I can be “prepared”.  I knew I wouldn’t read these right away.  Being prepared hadn’t done me much good up to this point.  Thankfully, Linda took it and read through it for me.  At some point, the nurse told me to be thinking about whether or not I wanted to hold the baby, and brought up the option of having a professional photographer come in to take pictures of Evan.  I really didn’t think that I wanted to do either of those things.  (Looking back, I am SO glad they gently talked me into both… or I would have even more regrets.)
Eventually, somewhere around 7:30-8:00pm, I decided that I had better get labor started.  It was getting late, I was wearing out, and I had a headache.  The nurse came in, started the induction, and hooked me up to the machine that monitors contractions.  Kristen and Christy went to Wendy’s for me to get me a baked potato.  After I ate something, my headache went away.  Mark came back with Nichole, and she brought me a journal for writing in.  I was appreciative of her gift, but at the time I thought, “What am I possibly going to write in this thing?  I am sad?”  Someone else had brought me a box of chocolates.  I didn’t like them and I remember Mark and Nichole ate a couple pieces of it, making some funny jokes about the chocolate.  It’s crazy what the brain does and does not remember during stressful, traumatic times!
Linda, Ashley, Kristen, Christy, and Sara stayed into the late hours of the night, but hung out in the visitors lounge.  The machine showed that contractions started right away, but nothing yet was painful.  I had to be hooked up for three hours and then they were going to let me go about an hour and a half without monitoring.  When they unhooked me around 11:30pm, James and I went for a “walk” down the hallway to the visitor’s lounge.  I wanted to visit with people, and I also thought that getting up and moving around might move labor along quicker.  Everyone there was telling stories and laughing, which might be considered inappropriate given the circumstances, but still I didn’t want to cry or think too long about the situation I was in.  I was appreciative of the mental relief.  Eventually, I decided I should go try and get some rest, even if I couldn’t actually sleep.  Kristen, Christy and Sara left, but Ashley and Linda stayed the entire night in the visitor’s lounge.  I tried to convince them to leave, the couches in the lounge would not be comfortable to sleep in, and there wasn't anything they could do there at that time anyhow.  They wouldn't leave me, though, and in all honesty it was a great comfort knowing they were still there.  The nurse came back into my room about 1am, gave me another pill (to induce labor), and hooked me back up to the monitor.  I asked her to order some pancakes for me so I could try and build up some energy but didn’t eat very much.  I think I got a little sleep that night, maybe from 2-3:30am.
Saturday, August 13th, 2011
  At 3:30am, the contractions started getting a bit more intense.  James fell asleep right away and kept on snoozing even after I woke up at 3:30.  Ironically, I had a giant suitcase full of things I had planned on using to distract me from the pain, but didn’t use any of it.  I handled the contractions okay by myself until about 4:30am, and by then I was becoming more uncomfortable.  I woke James up, barely, and he started rubbing my back during contractions.  At first, he kept falling asleep, until I yelled at him and made him wake up-completely.  Like I said, the pain was getting worse.  Around 5:30am, the nurse came in and suggested using the hot tub to ease the pain.  That didn’t work either, and by 6am I was already miserable and ready for the epidural.  I thought I would be tough and see how long I could go before I needed any pain medication.  Yeah, I wasn’t tough at all.  I also kept thinking that I had no reason to be in any more pain.  I no longer had to worry about the safety of the baby, so bring on the pain medication.  I had hit a brick wall, mentally, and that made the pain even harder to handle.  Unfortunately, it took another half hour before the anesthesiologist came in.  I was ready to be done with the pain, so it was a miserable half hour.   Some say that contractions may have been intensified because of the induction medication but admittedly, I couldn’t tolerate the pain of labor.  After the epidural was in, the nurse checked how far along I was, and I only made it to 4cm.  Only 4cm.  The epidural kicked in almost instantly.  One minute I was asking how long it would take to work, and the next minute I was pain-free.  I was told that contractions kept going, but I felt NOTHING.  So thankful for pain medication. 
Saturday morning and afternoon were again, a blur of visitors in and out of the room.  If I hadn’t had pain medication, there would be no way I would have been able to have visitors.  With pain medication, I was able to lie there very comfortably.  Ashley and Linda had never left but stayed in the visitor’s lounge overnight.  The nurse’s offered to let my visitors have their own room to gather in, and Friday night they declined but at some point, they all started gathering in a nearby hospital room. 
Dr. McNeely came in to break the bag of waters (early afternoon?).  There was meconium in the fluid, which indicates the baby was in distress but that still didn’t tell us when, how, or why he died.  Nurse Linda came in and explained that after Evan was born, they would look for any clues that might explain why he died, but also warned us that sometimes there isn’t an answer.  She said that we should expect that he would look like any other newborn baby born at full term, and he would most likely look very peaceful, like he was sleeping.  She again told us to consider holding him.  I asked the nurse if she thought Evan would look “okay” considering that he had most likely died a couple of days ago.  Everyone said that he was well protected inside the fluid of the amniotic sac.  James had decided to hold him first, and then I would hold him next.  (I am so thankful they talked me into seeing him and holding him.  However, after seeing my own son and doing some research about stillbirth, babies who are stillborn sometimes do look different from other babies.  It might have been helpful to know that ahead of time.  I have absolutely NO complaints about the hospital staff who were there advising and helping us through this situation; they were wonderfully compassionate, supportive and kind, but just a word of advice for any other families who may go through this.)
We also decided that we did want to have pictures taken, even if I didn’t want to look at them right away.  So Nurse Linda made the call to the photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep.  We knew the photographer would take pictures of Evan with our wedding rings, and I hadn’t brought mine with me, so Kristen and Christy ran home to get it for me, along with the diaper bag that I had packed with clothes for Evan.  (They also went to my house a second time to watch Wriggley so Cody could take a break, and come visit me in the hospital.)
It seemed I was dilating very slowly at first, because I was only at 6cm by around 1-2pm.  Nurse Linda didn’t think that I would be ready to start pushing until late evening (after dark).  At least twice, I started shaking and shivering uncontrollably for a long time.  They kept bringing me warm blanket after warm blanket but I could not stop shaking.  By 3pm, I was about 9cm.  Unfortunately, it seemed like the epidural was also starting to wear off about this time and I definitely did NOT want to begin feeling pain.  It took her awhile, but the nurse eventually decided that it was okay to give me some more drugs through the IV. 
At 5pm, I wasn’t quite at 10cm, but they thought I was close enough that I should start pushing.  Everyone gathered to pray, gave me hugs, then filed out of the room.  We only went about 15-20min before they decided that I wasn’t fully dilated enough to continue.
A few people came back in the room for awhile.  Ashley and Trish took turns rubbing my back.  About 6pm, I started pushing again.  Labor continued for about three hours.  The longer we went, the more they started tossing out the word c-section.  A few more pushes and then we’ll call in the doctor to evaluate whether we need to go ahead with a c-section.  At the thought of having a c-section, I pushed harder.  By 9pm, however, it was clear that no further progress was being made towards getting the baby through the pelvis.  I would have kept pushing for another three hours if what I was doing was getting somewhere.   It wasn’t that labor was progressing slowly… it wasn’t progressing at all. 
Again, I mentally gave up and was ready for the c-section.  All of that work to try and deliver regularly, to end up having a c-section anyway.  Really??  Why couldn’t I have just started with this option?  They called in Dr. Hattan, to get his opinion.  He told me he could try using something to try and pull the baby out, as a last attempt before doing surgery, but he didn’t think it would work.  He gave me the final choice on what to do next.  Mentally, I had hit another brick wall; I didn’t want to be uncomfortable any more, and we weren’t making any progress anyhow.  I was ready for the c-section.
Somewhere between 9-9:30pm, Dr. Hranac (“I like this guy”) came back with more drugs for the epidural.  He asked me how coherent I wanted to be during surgery.  “Pain-free but still cognizant of things going on around me,” I replied.  They asked if I wanted to have someone come pray with me before I went into surgery, so everyone filed back into the room and we prayed.  Again, everyone hugged me as they left the room.  Someone came to take blood in case I needed a blood transfusion.  James put on his scrubs.  Nurse Lisa put on a hair net, and I got one too.  At about 10pm, they wheeled me down and around the long hallway, past the lounge where everyone had gathered to wait during the surgery.  I was nervous as they wheeled me past the doors to the surgical area.  The lights were bright and I was again very cold, and started shaking and shivering.  They lifted me off of the bed, and onto the operating table, and strapped my arms out wide, “crucifixion-style”.  I have to say that made me even more nervous about undergoing major surgery.  They gave me warm blankets to put over my chest, but I was still afraid that I would be shaking while they cut me open, and I was positive that this would not be a good thing.  After they put the privacy sheet up, much of this time is foggy to me as well.  I wasn’t uncomfortable at first.  I was actually very sleepy.  I could not keep my eyes open, and wanted to simply fall asleep.  I didn’t pay any attention to conversations going on around me, but I very clearly remember them announcing: “Baby is born at 10:25pm”.  I briefly looked over at the “warming table” where they laid Evan.  I only saw the bottom half of his body, but that was enough for me realize I would start sobbing if I looked at him.  I made the decision to wait to see him until after they had finished the surgery.  I was still convinced that a bawling, shaking body would not be a good thing to be operating on.  They handed Evan to James, and he held him as I laid there staring at the IV full of drugs I was given.  I couldn’t look at them.  They told me I needed a focal point to distract me from the pain of labor… I didn’t know I was going to use the IV as my focal point to distract me from emotional pain.  James started to cry, but I was afraid to.  It seemed like the anesthesia began to wear off during the surgery, because it became very uncomfortable.  I kept asking for more drugs.  It wasn’t stinging painful, but I could feel tugging and pulling in my abdominal area.  I kept asking how much longer it was going to take, so I could keep going mentally, but no one would answer me.  After it was over, they wheeled me to the recovery area. (11pm)
This is where I saw Evan for the first time.  I thought I would cry, but I was just in awe as I stared at his little body.  I asked what happened to his eye, because it was red and the skin was peeling.  I was more scared than anything, because I thought that he was bleeding and was going to continue bleeding.  I was still worried that his physical body wasn’t completely “normal” due to the fact that he had been gone awhile.  Some skin had peeled away on his arm and leg also. I studied his face while James pointed out how big his hands and feet were.  He looked just like his daddy.  We had a few minutes alone with him, and then James went out to get Nichole and Ashley.  Technically, the nurses weren’t supposed to allow anyone else to come to the recovery area, but they made an exception for us.  Nichole took a few pictures, and I didn’t know then how much those pictures would come to mean to me.  I hadn’t even thought to bring in my camera after I found out Evan had died.  I wish she would have taken lots more pictures.  I developed a fever once again while lying in the recovery area, but this time I wasn’t shaking.  I was only focused on looking at my son, my baby.  He was absolutely perfect, so handsome and so cute.
After about a half hour, (11:30pm) they wheeled me back to my room.  Thankfully, they took the “back way” so I wouldn’t have to be wheeled past everyone in the visitor’s lounge.  As we settled back in our room, James propped pillows up all around me, so I could relax while holding Evan.  We decided that James would go tell everyone they could come down, a couple people at a time, to see Evan if they wanted to.  I was nervous about what people would think of my baby because of the maceration (skin peeling away).  It must have been after 1am by the time everyone left.   We had a few moments to ourselves as a family, but I don’t remember much after everyone left.  James held Evan each time the nurses came in to check on me.  Nurse Lisa kept coming in and pushing on my stomach to check the uterus.  Then another nurse took over, I didn’t catch her name but I didn’t like her very much, because she caused me a LOT of pain.   So I’m just going to call her Nurse Torture.  She came in to push on my stomach, and she pushed a LOT harder than Nurse Lisa did.  I dreaded the times when she came in my room.  I made her tell me what time she would be coming back, so I could prepare myself for her torture.  I also became very irritated by the oxygen monitor that I was hooked up to.  It kept going off seemingly every minute or two.  I was soooo exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep because that thing kept waking me up.  Now I wonder if my “low oxygen level” was a result of surgery, or a condition that existed prior to surgery that caused Evan’s death??  James, of course, had no problem falling asleep right away.  At one point, I tried to get him to wake up and he wouldn’t.  I called out his name, and yelled out his name as much as I dared to… I didn’t want to alarm everyone else on the L&D floor.  He wouldn’t wake up so I tried to find something to throw at him.  I finally woke him up, and I asked him to set up the fan by my bed so I could cool off.  The fan also provided just enough background noise for me to be able to drown out the beeping of the monitor.  Then I was able to get some sleep.  Nurse Torture came in at one point to do her thing, but James was fast asleep so she laid Evan down in the bassinet.  I told her that she could go ahead and take Evan down to the nursery to do the hand and foot prints, but by the time she was done with her torture session, I had changed my mind.  I couldn’t let anyone take him away from me yet.  Other than my torture sessions,
I held Evan in my arms, and didn’t let go all night.  Looking back now, I wish I had stayed awake the whole time just to take in and memorize every part of him, and spend more time with him. 

Sunday, August 14th, 2011
Most of Sunday morning is a blur, also.  Nurse Linda was back on duty, and offered to give Evan a bath… his first and only bath.  We picked out an outfit that I had packed as his “going home outfit”.  Nurse Linda put a knitted hat next to his outfit that some volunteers had made to give to families.  The hat had a puffy, white, yarn ball at the top of it.  “That’s going to look silly on my handsome baby boy, but okay,” I thought.  We watched as she carefully undressed him, and washed his body first, then his face and hair.  Just the way we had been taught to give a sponge bath during our Infant Care Class.  During class, I had watched James carefully bathe a doll.  Tears formed in my eyes as I thought about how I would never get to watch him give our son a bath.  As Nurse Linda dressed my son in his cute little outfit, I can hardly describe how I felt.  In the hospital blanket, he looked like a handsome ‘tough guy’, with lots of dark hair, big body, big hands and feet, so much like his daddy.  In his blue striped “Heaven Sent” outfit, he transformed into a soft, sweet, innocent baby boy.  He was the most adorable baby I had ever seen.  And the hat was perfect, too. 
Dr. Hranac came in early in the morning and asked if I was ready to take the epidural out.  I wanted time to spend with Evan, without being in pain, so I said no.  I didn’t think I was going to be allowed to eat until after the epidural was out, but Nurse Linda asked me if I was ready for breakfast.  (10am?) I ordered some pancakes and hashbrowns, even though I wasn’t hungry.  Turned out I was hungry, and it tasted really good.  Dr. Hattan, the surgeon, came in at some point that morning to check on me.  Linda came in about 11am.  A specialist had come in to talk about doing a chromosome study, and they asked if we wanted to have Evan taken for x-rays.  We were also reminded that the nurses could take Evan, when we were ready, and have hand and foot molds made, as well as hand and foot prints.  Dr. Gfeller came in at some point to offer his condolences.
Linda wanted me to order lunch, but I had just eaten breakfast, so she “allowed me” to wait until later in the afternoon to order food.  Around 2 or 3pm, Linda wouldn’t let me wait any longer.  I picked out a philly sandwich, and again it turned out that I was actually really hungry.  At some point, they took the epidural out, and “unhooked” me from everything else that was attached to my body.  The epidural had begun to wear off earlier, and I could already feel my legs and move them on my own. 
The NILMDTS photographer came in sometime that afternoon, as I was being wheeled out of the room to go take a shower.  She went on into the room to begin taking pictures.  I wanted a shower before pictures were taken of me with Evan.  I was still recovering from the epidural, so I had to be careful as I walked from the wheelchair to the shower chair.  The shower was awkward, not because I was showering in front of two women I didn’t know, but because it was hard to have two women trying to do the work of showering for me.  I had to sit down in a shower chair, and one of the nurses held the sprayer while I shampooed & rinsed my hair.
Once I got back to the room, I felt really rushed to get ready to take pictures with Evan.  I wanted time to do my hair and put on makeup, and everyone kept telling me I didn’t need to.  “You look fine.”  I was very upset because it seemed like no one wanted to “wait” for me to be ready.  These are the only pictures I am going to get with my son and I want to look the best as I can!  Well, some of the pictures didn’t turn out the best anyway, because I look ticked off in them.  More regrets…
Later that evening, James’s parents came, Frank and Kim came, Michael and Christina Cate (from school) came to visit.  At some point, Trish held Evan, and then my mom held him.  I remember her singing “You Are My Sunshine” to Evan, while I sat there and ate dinner.  How I longed to sing that song to my son, but now that he was dead, I couldn’t do it.  I wouldn’t have been able to get past the “please don’t take… my sunshine away…”  At some point, I finally let the nurse take Evan to do the hand/foot prints and molds, and again to go take x-rays.
I went to sleep that night holding Evan, but in the middle of the night, I asked James to take him for a bit so I could go to the bathroom.  James laid Evan down in the bassinet, and went back to sleep.  I could have woken James up again to have him bring Evan back to me, but I didn’t want to bother him.  I could have walked over there myself to get him, but I was still recovering from the epidural and wasn’t sure of walking “unsupervised” and carrying Evan too.  So, I never brought him back to bed with me.  I have all day tomorrow, I thought.
Monday, August 15th, 2011
I was up early this morning.  Dr. Gfeller came in to check on me before heading to his office. I waited to hear when he would release me from the hospital.  The nurses had said yesterday that I might go home early, but Dr. Gfeller said to wait until Tuesday.  I was okay with that, because then I would have more time with Evan.  I thought I would have all day today with him, but when I went to pick him up I could tell his little body wouldn’t last much longer here on earth.  The reality of the situation was that the body can only last so long after death.  I cried long and hard that morning as I held him, but we still had decisions to make and things to do.  James asked me if I wanted him to call Pastor Aaron and have him come to the hospital to discuss the memorial service.  I said yes, but looking back now I wish I would have just sat there and held my son.  Why was I so quick to “keep on going”??  As the three of us sat there talking, I was afraid that there might be an odor in the room, and so I made the decision to have the nurse come and take Evan to a “special place” to preserve his body.  She didn’t come in for a long time to come and get him.  I also ordered breakfast at some point, because I remember  thinking it was rude to try and eat it while sitting there talking to Pastor Aaron.
Pastor Aaron left the room for a bit to talk to the funeral director at Lincoln Memorial, James went to get something to drink, and I sat there on the couch in the room feeling very alone.  I felt like life had lost its meaning, and felt a deep depression settling in.  What am I going to do with my life now??  While pregnant, I finally felt like I had found my purpose in life, and that was suddenly taken from me. Now what??  Immediately, I reached out to James when he came back in the room, “I’ve felt this feeling before, and I’m really scared,” I admitted.  Pastor Aaron came back in, and we prayed about it.  Instantly, the sad, hopeless, depressed feeling went away.
Pastor Aaron was there with us all morning and afternoon, praying for us, helping us make funeral arrangements, and just being there as a friend.  Michelle Bales came in to visit for a bit late in the afternoon, and Pastor Aaron left about 4pm. 
Ashley and Brandon not long after.  Ashley massaged my arms and legs, and Linda came and made sure I was eating.  I ordered another philly sandwich.  Linda went and tracked down the dessert cart that circulates around the post-partum area.  It had never made its way to me because I wasn’t in the post-partum wing.  I know my mom was there for awhile, because she was “jealous” of my massage and cheesecake.  I just kept thinking, “you shouldn’t be jealous, you don’t want to have experienced what I'm going through to be sitting here getting a massage and eating cheesecake”.  James’s parents were there for awhile.
At first, I knew Evan was gone, but he was still physically inside of me.  I was still “pregnant”.  I could irrationally hold onto the thought that when he was born, it would all be a mistake and he would be alive.  Then when he was born, I knew he was gone, but he was still physically in my arms.  I just wanted him to wake up.  Facing the fact that I would have to leave the hospital tomorrow, knowing he was gone and that I couldn’t take him with me seemed unbearable.  Ashley and Linda promised to come to the hospital to be there with me as I left the hospital without my baby boy.
I remember having a bit of gas at some point, but even that made me sad because the sensation is sometimes similar to feeling a baby move inside of you.  It was a cruel reminder that Evan was no longer inside of me, and it wasn’t his movements I was feeling.
Someone brought James a change of clothes and had also grabbed my external hard drive for me.  After our visitors left, I spent the evening looking on YouTube for songs to play at Evan’s memorial service.  I also looked through my pregnancy “journal” to see if there was anything in it that I wanted to share at the memorial service.  (There wasn’t.)  James wrote a poem, which he has never done before in his life.  Nurse Linda brought in the molds that were made of Evan’s hand and foot.  Tears of sadness…and joy…streamed down my face.   What a precious keepsake of the son I would never get to bring home.  As we were getting ready for bed that I night, I wanted James to move the hospital couch up next to my bed so even if we couldn’t actually cuddle up next to each other, we could still hold hands.

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011
Dr. Gfeller came in again this morning to check up on me before heading into the office.  I had developed a cold sore, and so he said he would write a prescription for me.  I was actually able to go back to sleep after he left… I was so exhausted.  I also think part of me was trying to escape the reality of what today would hold.  I finally got up, ate breakfast, and took a shower.  James helped me with the shower this time; they brought in a shower chair and put it in the bathtub in my room.  I had to hurry because people were going to be arriving soon…Pastor Aaron and Pastor Shaun came, and Linda and Ashley came for support, knowing that leaving the hospital without Evan would be extremely difficult.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to see Evan again.  I had kind of made the decision overnight that I didn’t want to see him today.  I wasn’t sure what he would look like, and I didn’t want to have any unpleasant memories.  Linda and Pastor Aaron had gone to look at him, and Linda said that she felt it would be okay for me to see Evan again.  I’m glad I did, and I wish I hadn’t spent so much time worrying about showering.  Why didn’t I hold my son earlier in the day so I could spend more time with him???  I wanted to take his outfit home with me, so I had to pick another one for him to wear in the casket.  I had packed a onesie in the diaper back that said “Born in 2011”.  I asked if anyone had a sharpie so we could write “Heaven” at the top of it…  “Heavenborn in 2011”.  All of our belongings had been packed up and taken to the car, so all I would have to think about later was saying goodbye to my son.
I asked Linda to take some more pictures.  I knew I didn’t have enough… I would never have enough.  I wanted some pictures taken of me smiling while holding my son.  I didn’t want to be crying in all of them.  James held him first, then me.  I asked everyone to leave me alone for a few minutes so I could be alone with Evan.  It had been just him and me for so long. I wanted it to be him and me again, one last time.  I held him and told him how much I loved him.  I told him that I would have taught him to be strong and trust in God during difficult circumstances.  I told him that I would try to do exactly that, even during this, the most difficult situation I’ve ever had to face. 
As everyone came back into the room, I was trying to imagine how I was ever going to let go of my son.  How was I ever going to leave, knowing that I would never see him again?  We had made, (or at least I had made) the decision that this was going to be last time I would see him, because again, I didn’t know what he would look like later. 
“It’s going to take supernatural strength for me to get up and walk out that door without him,” I said.  “You’re not going to walk, you’ll be riding in a wheelchair,” someone smartly replied; it was probably James.  Nurse Linda came in, and I handed Evan over to her, knowing she would take good care of him for me, but still not wanting to let him go.  Talk about the hardest thing a mother would ever have to do.  I was absolutely numb as I walked over and picked up Evan’s things out of the bassinet, and sat down in the wheelchair protectively guarding the only tangible things I had left of my son… his hand and foot molds.  I waited for them to come and wheel me even further away from my little baby.  Was this really happening to me??  The wheelchair ride to our car was so surreal.  Everyone walked behind me, and no one said a word as we rode down the elevator.  I couldn’t believe what was happening to me.  Other hospital visitors made eye contact with me as we made our way down the long hallway to the parking garage but no one smiled, no one nodded, no one gave the sympathetic head tilt… they couldn’t have known that I was supposed to have been holding a baby in that wheelchair… we weren’t carrying any blue balloons or a hospital sign that said, “It’s a boy!” that would announce my baby’s arrival into this world.
We went straight from the hospital to the funeral home and planned Evan’s service.  Linda and Pastor Aaron came with us, which was good because I was about at the end of my ability to make decisions.  Was this really happening to me??  Was I really sitting in this funeral parlor planning my son’s funeral just three days after giving birth?  Why couldn’t I be at home taking care of a newborn?
First we wrote the obituary… “Survived by parents Liz and James S.”  Well, I suppose you can call it “surviving”… I was still alive.  It was the first time I got to see the word “parents” in writing, and it had to be written in an obituary.  Next, we chose the design for the program cover.  None of the designs seemed right.  I didn’t like any of the designs that were “supposed” to be for a baby’s funeral, and the one I liked didn’t seem “appropriate” for a baby’s funeral.  That’s when I first learned that hospitals put up some sort of “sign” on the door to inform hospital staff that the baby has died.  A dove was the symbol on my door, but sometimes a flower is used.  So I chose the flower program.  We picked a poem to place on the inside cover of the program, planned memorial songs, and the order of service.  We had to pick a casket.  They shouldn’t have to make a casket that small.  We were asked if we planned on seeing Evan again before the service.  Me: “no”.  James: “yes”.  I finally lost it.  I had made the decision at the hospital that I would not see Evan again, and told myself to be at peace with that.  Now here I am again faced with the option of seeing my baby??  Torn… all I can say is… torn.  Of course I wanted to see my baby again!!! I wanted to see him and hold him forever.  I wanted to grab him from wherever he was and take him home with me.  But the reality was that I couldn’t hold onto him forever, and his earthly body was fading.  I stuck with the decision not to see him again, so I could hold onto his beautiful, earthly face in my mind.  Again, all I can say is torn… oh, how I long to see his face and hold him one more time.
Linda followed us home afterwards.  Her plan was to stay in the car while we went inside, but she wanted to be near in case we needed her.  She ended up driving to Walgreens for me, to fill my prescriptions, and to give us some time to go inside by ourselves.  We walked in, and at first, I was just excited to see Wriggley.  It had been almost five days since I’d seen her.  She ignored me at first as a sort of temper tantrum for being away so long, and then wouldn’t leave my side.  James tried to start unpacking right away, and I wanted to just take things slow.  I knew there would be plenty of time for unpacking later.  I walked around the house in a daze, looking at Evan’s things; his room, his toys, his clothes, his bassinet.  I didn’t cry right away, I had prepared myself for this.  Honestly, I think I was just in shock.  I was processing everything mentally, but had somehow shut off the “emotional switch” for awhile.  I knew what was happening around me, but somehow it didn’t seem like it was happening to me.  Linda came back and dropped off my prescriptions, and some clothes that she had brought for me to try on.  She wanted me to have something to wear for Evan’s funeral.  And then she was gone.  The “emotional switch” kept wanting to turn on so I busied myself unpacking and cleaning, even after I had just told James not to do it because we would have time for that later!  James had to talk me out of it this time.  James’s parents came by a short time later and brought dinner, but I didn’t want to eat.  As the night went on, and I stopped thinking of all of the things I had “to do”, and began to realize that this was my reality now, I began to feel really depressed.  The same depressed, hopeless, feeling I had in the hospital.  I began to cry, and then literally at that second, Ashley came walking in the door.  She came bringing food, and other things, but I was just glad to have her company at that moment.  Immediately, the depressed, hopeless feeling went away, and God MUST be at work here, because miraculously that feeling never came back again. 

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011
            The day of Evan’s funeral again, kept me focusing on everything I had “to do”, and kept me from breaking down.  Linda bought some new clothes for James to wear to the funeral, and so she brought them over in the morning for him to try on.  She “mended” one of the dresses that she had brought earlier for me to wear, so that the sleeves weren’t so long and uncomfortable.  The photographer from “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep” came over to drop off the CD with pictures she had taken.  She had created a slideshow set to music but I wanted to make my own.  I wanted to combine all of the pictures I had, not just the ones she had taken.  Nichole and Linda had both taken some pictures that I wanted to show as well.
I was running out of time to get ready to go, but also I wrote some things down that were on my heart, that I wanted to say at Evan’s funeral.  I hate speaking in front of large groups of people, but I knew I wanted to say something, and read his “bedtime” story at his memorial service.  Only God could have given me the courage to speak in front of so many people, and the strength to not break down crying at my son’s funeral.  I just knew I had to do it, and I wanted to do it, for my son. 
Moving Forward
          Though I asked many questions… Was it this?  Was it that?  Should I have done this?  Should I have avoided that?  We were never given an explanation about why my son died.  Genetic testing revealed no chromosomal defects, x-rays revealed no physical deformities, and the placenta looked normal.  The umbilical cord seemed a bit longer than normal, but that isn’t necessarily a cause of death, and it wasn’t wrapped around his neck.  The doctor said I wasn’t leaning too far back on the couch, and I asked that a test be done to check my blood oxygen level and it came back normal.  The only answer I was given was that whatever happened, it probably happened quickly.  They said that it was not likely that I would have been able to change anything even had I gone into the doctor’s office sooner.  Unless I had been in labor when it happened, there was nothing else that could have been done.  I wonder if they tell me that just to keep my heart from feeling guilty.  I will never know. 
Visiting with my doctor at my postpartum checkup, he said he went back and looked through the medical records of my prenatal visits and there wasn’t anything that stood out to him.  In fact, he said it is so rare that you look at a medical file and see NOTHING written in the section for pregnancy complications or concerns.  The pregnancy really was “picture perfect”.  And yet my baby died.  It is so hard not having an explanation why. 
Anyone who knows me knows that I wear my emotions on my sleeve.  The fact that I held up so well throughout all of this, and the fact that I have been able to have any sense of peace and hope in this whole situation is through faith in God, and the power of the Holy Spirit.  James and I have felt the peace the passes understanding… and that can only be attributed to God.  This has been the worst thing I have ever had to go through, and somehow God has protected me from hopelessness, depression, and despair.  That’s not to say it’s been easy.  I have to continually remind myself that Evan is in heaven, and that I will see him again someday.  If I lose that eternal perspective, and I have a few times, then I begin to lose hope.  The road has been, and will continue to be, a long and difficult one.
I had waited a lifetime to become a mother. And now I am. To a child waiting for me in heaven.











 
 
 
 
Dear Lord,
We would have loved to have held our babies on our laps and tell them about you, but since we didn’t get the chance, would you please hold them on your lap and tell them about us?  
 


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