TW: This birth ends in a pregnancy loss.
I’ve told this story several times to my friends, but putting it down on paper feels impossible.
How do I put into words one of the worst days of my life?
I guess you start from the beginning. At 28 weeks I went in for my glucose test. You know, the awful sugary drink you have to chug in 5 minutes. Well, I got lucky and mine honestly tasted like sprite.
Probably the only time we got lucky that day.
I finished my glucose test, got my bloodwork done, and then went to meet with my doctor.
I remember telling my doctor I had some pain in my pelvic area two days ago. She said, “Let’s take a look at her.”
I don’t know if she knew immediately.
But she pulled out the doppler and rubbed it on my belly. She couldn’t find the heartbeat. She pulls out the small ultrasound tech, and says, “not to worry let’s look here.”
While looking around, her face got sad. She said, “This right here is where the heartbeat should be, and I’m not seeing anything. But let us double check on the big one.”
So we wait a moment and go to the big ultrasound area. I remember just sitting there in silence not being able to process. The doctor comes and gets us and takes us to the ultrasound.
You could see it on the office workers’ faces as we walked by.
You could see it on the tech’s face as she performed the ultrasound.
I asked her, and she told me the doctor will come and talk to us.
Our doctor comes in and I remember her saying, “I’m so sorry, there’s nothing I can do to save your baby girl.”
She told me I would have to deliver her. We went home for a few hours and waited for the call that would tell us to head to the hospital.
Those few hours felt like a lifetime. We sat at home and sobbed. So confused. Crying out to God to try and save her.
We got the call from the hospital later that night telling us we could come in.
I started packing my bag, and that’s when it really hit me. I’m packing my bag but not hers. I have to have a coming home outfit. She doesn’t.
How is this fair?
How am I, at 26 years old, supposed to decide if I want to bury or cremate my daughter?
This is wrong.
This isn’t right.
We arrive at the hospital and get checked in.
The hospital was in the middle of renovating, so our room was right next to the nursery. Yep, where all the living newborn babies sleep. We heard newborn cries almost the entire time we were there.
That stung.
We started pitocin around 10:30pm, got another dose at 2:30am, and then 6:30am.
I was able to sleep some but not really. Everything felt so wrong.
I started having contractions around 6am, and they came in strong.
I guess I thought that since she was smaller, labor would be easier. Less contractions. Less pain.
But that wasn’t true.
The contractions hurt.
I opted for the epidural this time, and fun fact, epidurals last as long as you need them.
I got the epidural about 7am and that took away all the pain. The physical pain, at least.
I was able to sleep about 30 minutes or so.
My OB came in at about 10:40am. We started to make a plan for delivery and answer any questions.
Around 11am, I was about 8cm dilated. She asked if she could break my water. I said yes, and then I slightly readjusted myself, and sweet Eden was here.
She was born at 2lbs 12oz, 11:02am, and 16in long.
Eden Camille looked just like her sister.
She’s gorgeous. She has long fingers and toes. She has brown hair. She would have been Maeve’s twin. She’s perfect.
I wish I could have seen her eyes.
Heard her newborn cry.
Those next few hours were perfect. Well, as perfect as they could be.
We got to hold her and love on her. I’m so thankful for those hours.
I’m thankful for the amazing nurses that talked with me through the night and treated me as if I was their only patient.
I’m thankful for the nurse who took photos of our time with Eden and encouraged us to have private time with her before extended family came in.
I’m thankful for family who dropped everything to be with us.
I’m thankful for all our wonderful friends who showed up for us during this time.
This was without a doubt the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I didn’t have to do it alone.
That’s because of my amazing friends, family, and most importantly, David.
If you’re going through something similar, reach out. Talk to someone. Don’t do this alone.
