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.
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.
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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