What an incredible time this has been. I have lost another baby to the sting of death…this time from within my womb. The pain was still very real. We are waiting on the D.N.A. results to learn if this child was a boy or girl and what the genetic defect was. Based on the 12 week sonogram, our midwife felt confident enough to tell Steve and I that our baby appeared to have a chromosomal defect. One that would make it incompatible with life. We were hearing this news for the second time and we were crushed. I immediately began to cry.
We were to come back within the week to repeat the sonogram and look for any changes. Those next few days seemed to drag until we were back in the doctor’s office hearing that not much had changed and actually the edema (swelling) of the baby was quite severe and perhaps even more pronounced around the head and abdomen. As the doctor conferred with the sonographer and set up an appt. in Pittsburgh we heard the whispers telling us our baby had severe edema throughout all of it’s tissue from head to rump.
We would have to wait until I was 16 weeks along to have the amniocentesis test in Pittsburgh which would confirm the actual condition our baby had.
Two weeks later I was concerned over a little bleeding and knew that I wanted to make sure our baby’s heart was beating before we made the two hour trip to Pittsburgh. Although I thought it, I wasn’t actually prepared to see my tiny one curled in my womb without a flutter in it’s chest. The sonographer gently let us know our baby was no longer living. I was surprised by the depth of emotion that sprang from somewhere deep in my heart. I was mourning this little child I had walked with for those last 16 weeks. Perhaps it was the combination of looking at the monitor screen and actually seeing such a tiny, well formed baby with it’s hands curled up by it’s head and it’s legs crossed while hearing that it no longer lived ~that cracked me somewhere deep in my core.
We were given three options. First, we could allow my body to spontaneously deliver the baby. This could take up to six weeks depending on how long ago our baby died. Second, we could go for and D and C in Pittsburgh because it was too large for our doctors here in Erie. However, it would be done in their abortion department. Thirdly, I could go into the local hospital and be given a medicine that would induce labor and I would deliver there.
I chose option three…and I wanted to do it that very afternoon. My midwife was calm as she let me know it is important to grieve the loss of this baby emotionally before letting go physically. She also let me know that once a mother knows her baby is no longer alive it can signal to her body it’s time to let the pregnancy go. I was scheduled to go to the hospital the next afternoon to be prepped for the delivery the following day. I then left to go home and grieve.
After the kids were tucked in for the night I curled up on the couch with a book. I couldn’t really get comfortable due to some mild cramping in my back. After a while I gave up and went to bed. I held my belly in the dark that night and knew this was my time to physically be with my child. I was literally wrapped around this baby. Yes, I knew I no longer communed with my child…but still it was present as I said goodbye.
I woke the next morning to the sound of my husband trying to get our eldest out the door in time for his bus and welcome our second to his day. All of a sudden there was a warm gush as I tried to move out of bed. I was so startled I hopped out and felt a second gush. I called Steve’s name several times and tried to keep my legs pressed tightly together to staunch what I believed to be a flow of blood. I thought I was hemorrhaging. The next few minutes were a whir. Steve came rushing in and closed the door. I was afraid and was crying as I told him I was bleeding. I gently tried to get changed to get to the hospital when there was another sudden gush and we both knew I had just delivered our baby. Steve called out “there’s the baby!” I just kept repeating, “Oh God, Oh God,” as he went to pick our little one off the towel on the floor. He was adamant about me not looking since we didn’t know how long our baby had been decomposing. I was crying and trying to get to him as my placenta was delivered and I heard him whisper, “it’s not gruesome at all.” There was genuine awe in his voice. I moved to look at the miniature baby he held cupped in his one palm with it’s umbilical chord still attached. We marveled at the sweet little fingers and the perfect heels on the other end of the ten tiny toes. I could see eyes and tiny ear buds…we were witnessing a beautiful revelation of one interrupted in the midst of it’s formation.
It was all so crazy and fast and the children (all seven were now awake) were huddled outside our bedroom door. Concern in their voice and impatience in their questions brought Steve out of our room while I tried to get ready to leave for the hospital without losing too much blood. The reality of this awkward unknown experience meant the baby was placed in a plastic container and wrapped in a special towel our son had sewn onto to memorialize his brother who had died two years earlier. Steve kept poking his head in the room to ask if he should show the baby to the kids. Stevie Jr. our second was adamant about wanting to see. I was torn between distraction of my physical condition and fear of scarring our children. Ultimately I figured if they want to see so badly, let them.
I was curious about their reaction…but a little afraid too. I had determined this latest child was beautiful no matter what. I also knew that children can be blunt and uncensored. I peeked around the corner of the door ready to dive back in the room to protect my vulnerable heart. I saw Steve in the midst of all but our eldest who was the only one who did not want to see this sibling. Gently he uncovered the baby and there was a collective gasp followed by a unanimous “aaaawwww.” The children began to blurt out their observances. “I can see a leg!” “Look! There are his fingers!” Our four year old peeked over Daddy’s hands and exclaimed, “he’s soooo cute!” They peppered Steve with “is it a boy or a girl?” And Steve was honest in telling them it was too early for us to know. He then said to the clustered group, “this is why we don’t believe abortion is right. This is a baby…not just a bunch of tissue in your Mommy.”
I can confidently say I think that’s a lesson they will never forget.
Though I chose not to hold the baby at that time I was given an opportunity to hold him or her later that afternoon in the quiet calm of my hospital room. The nurse had done her best to take photographs that would honor our child and there was even the tiniest bit of ink on the edge of an even tinier foot from attempted footprints at my request. We marveled at the intricacy of a 16 week formed human being cupped in the palm of my hand. Yes, we were saddened by the telltale sign of abnormality shown by the distended abdominal wall. And we trusted that this child’s Creator called him or her home when He knew it was the right time. But we also knew we were experiencing some part of wonderment that accompanies any great creation. We were viewing a miraculous sight that very few will ever have the privilege to see in the flesh.
Little one, how honored I am to have been chosen to house you as your fingers, toes, arms, and nose began to take shape. You are of my flesh and blood and that tie is no less real in death as it would be in life. I love you and long for the day when, perhaps unexpectedly, you rush up and lift me off my feet that were walking the golden streets of Heaven. The alarm of being grabbed by a stranger melts into pure delight as my heart is filled with the recognition of you. I imagine my tears will burst forth as you wrap your arms around me with the vigor of a ruddy youth. Tears of gratitude and inexpressible mirth slide down the curve of your cheek as we both begin to understand that your short life on earth has been rewarded with an eternity of joyful discovery within each others company. Lord, Your ways are far above our own!
Yep...the very observant words of the Wicked Witch on The Wizard of Oz signaled her collapse under the powers of H2O. I'm more than a little curious why my five year old son couldn't be that concise during his most recent "melt-down" at Waldameer (local amusement park) today. "I'm hot," followed by thrashing and pulling on the stroller which caused me to feel a few beads of sweat of my own were his words of choice during one stressful wait for a ride. Then there was the "I waaant to plaaaay the dart game," which would have been my cue to signal the flying monkeys to carry him off as he kicked at my leg and tugged at my shirt. But, truly I was so busy avoiding any possible eye contact with the overcrowded population circling the Steel Dragon I probably would have mixed up my primate language and ended up with King Kong...and I was way to cranky to be hoisted up the Empire State building anyway...
