Keepsake Box

I've talked about looking at the pictures of Madeline in her keepsake box, but that first day I couldn't look at anything else. About a week later I was able to look at everything. It was still hard and overwhelming, but it was good to finally see it all. It also let me get another good cry out.

Madeline's keepsake box

Under the pictures was a "birth certificate" from the hospital. It had all of her stats, time of birth and delivering doctor.  On the back were her footprints. Under that was the card that would have been on her bassinet in the hospital saying "It's a Girl" with our names and "Baby Girl Browne." In a couple of the pictures Madeline was holding a necklace that said "Mommy" with some pink stones. The necklace was in the box. There was also a dress very similar to the one she had been wearing. It wasn't the same one. My hope is that she'll be buried in the one we saw her in. There was also a tiny white hat and another smaller outfit.  That one would have been too small for her.  My guess is that these boxes are pre-packed with whatever they may need.  Madeline was pretty long for her age.

Under the clothes were hospital bracelets that would have been used for me and for her with our information. There was also a paper tape measure so we could see how long 11.5 inches is.  There was also a card about the memory box itself and who provided it along with some resources for dealing with grief.  Another card you could mail to stop receiving advertisements about baby products in the mail.  Below that was card with a silver heart on a ribbon that said, "You will always be in my heart."  There was also a card that could have held a lock of hair (she only had a little fuzz when she was born). At the very bottom was a booklet that was designed to be a grief journal. There were quotes on all the pages that made me cry even more. I had started so I just powered through so I could get it over with. I'm glad they provided it though. I've been using this blog to help me work through my grief and keep a record of that time and now, but I know that's not for everyone.

Once I made it through the booklet I was done. I had looked at it all. It was hard and afterwards I laid on the bed with Madeline's bear and blanket for a while and cried. But it was a good release. I needed to let it all out.

Madeline's bear

I decided to use this box to store everything about our daughter so it would all be in one place. I had gotten a few Mother's Day cards in May, they went in the box. All of her ultrasound pictures went in. I got a couple cards and flowers with cards while I was in the hospital. In they went. All of the cards and letters we had received since she was born went in too. It's a testament to how lucky we (and Madeline) are to be loved by so many people that I'm going to have to find another box to keep everything together. The box from the hospital isn't big enough anymore. I also plan to print out all of the electronic condolences and support we have received just so I can see it all at once if I want to. I'm also going to add the CD of all the pictures taken at the hospital that I got in the mail about a week ago.

For now the box will still live on the shelf in the closet of the small bedroom. Eventually it will move to our bedroom because hopefully someday that room will be a nursery again. Right now it's still too hard for me to move it out of that room. It was supposed to be her room and I want everything to stay there for now.

The front flap with Madeline's footprints 

Pictures

Sorry for my absence for the past few days. I was out of town visiting with a few of my friends. Three of my friends (and sorority sisters) from college and I all get together 4 times a year, rotating houses. It's always so nice to see them and we catch up while crafting or baking or just relaxing. We were supposed to have one of our gatherings at the end of June. After I went into the hospital we talked about postponing. Then when I was going home on bed rest we were going to still get together, just switch the location to Lexington and they would stay in a hotel and come over for visits (so I wouldn't get too worn out). When Madeline was born on the 26th we decided to postpone until I was ready, hopefully sometime in July. Our June weekend had been scheduled to start that Friday, the 28th and it was too soon for me. Plus I wanted to enjoy our time together and be able to talk about other things. So after some messages and schedule moving we were able to get together this past weekend. It was lovely and so needed. Another little bit of normal.

All of this plays into the title I promise. A couple weeks ago the perinatal grief counselor from the hospital called to follow up and check on us. It was nice. Once she called I had remembered the hospital saying this would happen, I had just forgotten. She asked about how we were doing emotionally and if we needed anything. We had gotten pictures the nurse had printed out, but I remembered her taking more than what we had. I don't remember what they could have been like or specifics, but I knew there were more. I asked and she said she could burn a CD of all the pictures and mail it to me. Looking at the pictures we have really has been a comfort to me and I wanted to see them all.

I realize that to some, looking at pictures of your baby that passed away can seem a bit weird and morbid. In all honesty before this happened I felt a little like that too. It's difficult to understand until you've been through it. My mom had a friend who lost a baby not long after I was born. Her friend took pictures and showed them to people. Mom said that until now she had never really gotten it. Now she does. It was something Adam and I weren't sure we wanted (as I talked about in an earlier post), but you can't go back. We thought it would be better to have them and never look at them than to not have any (because none were taken) and want them. I know we made the right decision because they have been a comfort to me.

I'm not going to pull out an album of these pictures and show them to people when they come to my house. However, if someone wants to see them I'll share them. Again, I know it's not for everyone and I don't expect a lot of people to take me up on it, but I know it's helped me. My mom has seen them. We looked through the printed ones together. I haven't said anything to Adam's parents at this point because I really wasn't ready yet, but I will now, especially because now I have them all.

This relates to my first paragraph because one of my friends (in our group of four) had asked to see the pictures when I was ready. We met at her house and I stayed an extra day so we could hang out and also because I came up a day later (we normally start on Friday night, but that was the 26th and I wanted to be with Adam since it was one month). I brought the CD with me. I didn't say anything when the four of us were together because I didn't want to put the others on the spot. I didn't want them to feel like they had to look at the pictures if they weren't comfortable (again, I remember being uncomfortable with the idea until it happened to me). So after our other friends left, we sat down and looked at them. It was hard, but also comforting. It was nice to share Madeline with her and hear her compliments as well as her sadness that she didn't get to meet her. It also actually gave me some joy. While looking at two pictures if Madeline's face I noticed in one I think she looks a lot like me, but in the other she is all Adam. It was nice to share that with someone. In the new pictures I was also able to see her head without the bonnet. We saw her briefly without anything on her head, but not for long. It was nice to really be able to see her head and ears. I was also able to see (and remember) that she had Adam's ears. His lobes are attached and mine aren't. Madeline's were attached. Every time I look at the pictures I see new things to love about her and ways she was so much like each of us.

Again, I know it's not for everyone and I totally understand. I promise I won't be hurt if no one else wants to see her pictures, but I do want to say if anyone ever does, just ask. It's bittersweet, but she really was beautiful and so much a part of Adam and I, and I like sharing that. It really has helped me to have some happy memories amidst all the sadness and, especially for those closest to us, it may help too. I'm not going to offer (or post them on the blog) but if you ask I'll show them to you. I like sharing her with others and this is the only way I can. I miss her, but looking at the pictures reminds me how lucky we were to get that time with her. I'm so glad I have documentation of our time as a family.

Follow Up Part 4

I guess this appointment really wasn't a follow up about reproduction, but since my gallbladder issues all started while I was in the hospital I thought that title would work.

After seeing the results from the ultrasound of my gallbladder, my OBGYN referred me to a surgeon.  The appointment went well.  I had to fill out new patient paperwork yet again (still not a fan of the reproductive questions).  Once I got into a room and met the doctor, however, things were better.  He was very nice and thorough.  He said he agreed based on the ultrasound that I did indeed have gallstones and a polyp.  He asked if I'd had any pain.  About a week and a half or two weeks ago I did have what I believe was a minor attack.  I woke up with severe back pain focused around my shoulder blades.  It was sharp and I couldn't get comfortable or go back to sleep.  I also had pain under my right breast (the epigastric pain they'd always been asking me about in the hospital . . . now I knew what they were talking about).  After a while I took some ibuprofen and that helped enough for me to eventually go back to sleep.

After he did a brief exam he said his recommendation was to have my gallbladder removed.  He said once you have a problem, you'll always have a problem.  It's unpredictable, but it will happen.  He also said that while polyps in the gallbladder were not thought to be as severe when it comes to being an indicator for cancer as when they are in the colon, research is showing that they should be taken more seriously.  People who have polyps in their gallbladders are much more likely to have gallbladder cancer.  Basically: polyp + gallstones + attack =  take it out.  I'm just fine with this.  I'd rather get it out of the way now so I know in the future I won't have to worry about it.

Luckily the surgery is out patient and they do it laparoscopically.  I don't think I could handle being in the hospital over night again.  It's minimally invasive and the recovery time is shorter.  So that's what I have to look forward to on August 8th.  What's another medical procedure this year, right?

One Month

Today is one month.  One month since our daughter was born.  One month since she died.

Overall it's actually not been the worst day.  I took a friend's advice and woke up this morning expecting it was going to be a horrible, horrible day.  That way it could only go up.  I think that helped.  Adam and I also had a long talk on our walk last night and that helped a lot too.  We talked about all of my concerns and feelings about naming our daughter.  He talked about his too.  It's something we'd both been kind of avoiding and we let all of our feelings out.

That morning in the hospital we were under the impression for a little while that we HAD to pick a name.  We were both so all over the map with our emotions that we had misunderstood.  However, because of this Adam had picked a name just in case.  I didn't know that until last night.  It was one from our list of names we had liked thus far.  If I was being honest too, I had also come up with one in case we had to put something down (also from the list).  I just hadn't been willing to admit it because it meant it was over.  She was really gone.  This was the end.  I think that's why naming her has been so hard for me.  I wanted to think that because I don't have to relive losing her fresh every morning that I'd moved through acceptance.  Not really.  I'd just been fooling myself into thinking that.  Naming her is truly the step that can move me through acceptance.  I think part of me felt like as long as we didn't name her we really couldn't order her grave marker and thus it couldn't truly be real.  I also had been avoiding it because I was mad.  Naming your child is supposed to be something happy, not heartbreaking.  Talking about all of this with Adam I felt so much better.  I knew now what I wanted and what we both wanted.  As much as I would like to still live in my little bit of denial, I know I can't.  Naming her makes it truly and undeniably real.  We will be ordering her grave marker sometime soon with her name.  They're names we had both liked that were "on the list" and when we were finally honest, they were names we could never consider again (I know several of you had asked me about that and I'd said I thought I could . . . I was wrong . . . facing this and being honest I know that the name I had thought of in the hospital I could never consider again . . . Adam feels the same about the one he thought of).  It seems fitting that today is the day we decided her name.  It's one month and the day she will move to her final resting place.  It's a beautiful place and today has been a beautiful day.  Mommy and Daddy love you Madeline Claire Browne, always will.

It's real, but I know it's a good thing.  While it makes me sad, it also makes me feel better.  I can't live in any part of denial anymore and even though that's painful, I know it's best.  Finally being honest with myself is a relief.

Calling my parents and Adam's parents to tell them was hard.  I had to say her name for the first time to someone besides Adam.  They were all supportive and said it was a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.  I agree.

Thanks for "listening" to all of this.  I'm sure a lot of you (especially our family and close friends who I've been talking to a lot about this) knew that I was using naming her as an excuse to still live in a bit of denial.  Thank you for letting me get here when I was ready and for listening to me and supporting me along the way.



Madeline Claire Browne was born a month ago today and while we didn't get long with her, the time we did get I will treasure forever.

What's In A Name?

I'm stealing this title from one of my friend's blog posts.  I've been thinking about her post about the struggles she had naming her son a lot recently.  It's something I'm still struggling with and I think in all honesty I'll never be happy either way.

We had been kicking names around from early on, but at one point decided to wait until we knew if we were having a boy or girl to really start being serious.  We found out on June 4th our baby was a girl and I went to the hospital at 2:30 am on June 15th.  So we didn't have very long to really start thinking about it.  We thought we had another 20 weeks.  We had a few favorites, but none we were attached to and none we had attached to her yet.  We had also pretty much decided we would have a top 2 or 3 list by the end and then decide when she was born thinking we'd know when we saw her.

All throughout our stay in the hospital I refused to think about a name.  Several nurses asked me as well as family and friends and I simply replied that we hadn't had that much time yet to consider it.  What I didn't say was that I couldn't name her at this point.  In my mind giving her a name while everything was happening and things were so touch and go meant I was giving up.  It meant that I was saying she wasn't going to make it so we needed to pick a name so we'd have something for her birth certificate and grave stone.  While I had trouble being positive at times, I still wanted everything to work out and to carry her long enough to give her a chance so I just couldn't think about names.  I couldn't think about delivering her and thus needing a name.

That morning when she was born it was all so overwhelming I (and Adam) couldn't think about it then either.  I had so many feelings and emotions swirling around and I couldn't focus.  Part of me wanted her to have a name.  But I also didn't want to just pick something out of the air at that moment.  It didn't seem fair to her.  Plus we'd been calling her our "baby girl" since we found out and that seemed fitting in a way.  We'd also been calling her "our little brownie" but that wasn't appropriate.  So when we had to make the decision that day of what to put on her birth certificate we went with "Baby Girl Browne."

As I said earlier, I don't think I'll be happy with either decision.  Because of my association of naming her meant I was giving up on her (very negative in other words), I don't think I'll be happy with any name we could pick.  At the same time, part of me feels she deserves a name.  I also have a lot of guilt because we'd been saying we'd know her name when we met her and that day a name didn't spring into mind when I saw her.  I'm sure part of that was the grief but I still feel like I've let her down somehow.

Everyone has been very supportive when I talk to them about my difficulty.  It shouldn't be this difficult and I hate that it is.  One friend suggested using a family name that we probably wouldn't want to use in the future.  I thought that was nice, but at the same time the devil's advocate part of me says, "Well that means you're giving her a throw away name.  She's not worth a name you'd want to use?"  Another friend suggested flipping a coin and if I wanted to flip it again after getting an answer I'd know deep down I really wanted the other.  Again, a nice idea.  I tried it today and no matter what side it landed on I wasn't happy and wanted to try again.  I guess deep down I'm still conflicted.

The perinatal grief counselor from the hospital called me last week to check in and see how we were doing.  One of the things we talked about was naming our daughter.  They still had her birth certificate at the hospital and she said they'd hold on to in for another couple weeks just in case we changed our mind and wanted to give her a name.  She said it's a lot easier for them to do it than to change our minds later and go through Frankfort.  Tomorrow will be one month since her birth so she'll be transported to Lexington Cemetery and buried by next week sometime.  That means we need to order her marker.  Again, if we're going to give her a name we need to do it before we order the marker.  In other words we have to make the decision by next week and it's just been weighing on me a lot recently because we have a deadline.

I went to lunch with one of my friends downtown today.  Since I was there anyway I decided to stop by the cemetery to see where she was going to be.  I thought maybe looking at the other markers might help me sort out what I wanted.  It's a beautiful cemetery and the section she'll be in has some pretty tress.  I got out and walked around looking at the different markers.  There were markers with names but there were also makers that said "Baby ____" or "Infant Son/Daughter of ______."  When I left I was still in turmoil.  One of the reasons I lean toward giving her a name is that I don't want anyone to think she was loved any less because she doesn't have a name.  I know logically, "Who cares what anyone else thinks, especially if they don't know us," but it's something that has come into my mind.  Everyone I've voiced this concern to has said that they didn't think anyone would think that, and they're right, it's just tugged at me.  When I talked to my mom she asked if I thought that when I walked by makers without a name or spots that didn't have makers.  I said no.  She said, "There's your answer."

In all honesty I don't think I'll ever be happy with either option.  Mostly I think that's because both options suck because it means we lost our baby girl.  But I know we need to make a decision and it will be another step towards acceptance.  I think that really is a lot of my difficulty.  I have reached the point now where the loss of my daughter is a part of my reality (I don't have to relive it every morning when I wake up), but making this decision is the final step in admitting it is truly real.  Instead of this abstract thought of a marker, we will actually be ordering it and it will be placed on her grave.

We've still got a few days, so we'll talk about it some more.  We'll make the decision when we have to and whatever it is, it will be the right one.  It doesn't matter what others think, we have to choose what we feel is best for us.  We know and she knows how much we love her and that's all that matters in the end, not if she has a specific name or not.

Thank You

I want to say thank you to everyone who's been reading.  To everyone that has sent me a message.  To everyone that has commented on my posts.  To everyone that has sent us a card or gift.  To everyone who wouldn't let me get swallowed by my grief.  To everyone that has visited us.  To everyone who has shared their struggles on the path to parenthood with me.  To everyone who has been with us through all of this.  Thank you.  I can't put into words how much it has meant to me and to Adam.

All of the messages of support and love have meant a lot.  Some people I haven't really talked to in years and it meant a lot that they would take the time to say something.

I've been especially surprised and touched by the people who have shared their struggles to become a parent with me.  Some I knew about, but others I never would have known.  It helps to know Adam and I are not the only ones who have had trials and struggles to have a baby.  While I wish none of us had this in common, it's comforting to know that there are others like me (that I actually know) and that I can talk to them about it.

I've also been touched by some messages about how my blog has affected their outlook on some things.  Someone contacted me saying she truly didn't understand what all happens when a mother loses a child, both physically and emotionally.  After reading my blog she has much greater empathy for these families.  Someone else contacted me and said her grandmother lost a child at birth, but was not allowed to grieve the way she wanted to and it affected her for the rest of her life.  She thanked me for speaking for others who couldn't.  The theme was that being open about grief is not always embraced by society and it really struck a chord with me.  No one around me has said anything resembling "Move on" or "Don't talk about it" or "Shouldn't you be over that by now?" or "You need to keep this to yourself."  However, I have felt this overpowering sense that I should be less open and closer to being normal again.  It's as if society in general has engrained this in all of us without us really realizing it.  I understand that grief is difficult and uncomfortable to talk about, but sweeping it under the carpet doesn't make it go away.  I'm sure some people think I shouldn't be so open about my grief and the process of trying to find my new normal, but it has truly helped me and I'm glad to know it's helped others too.  That's society's problem and maybe if more of us talk about it, it will get better.  When I started this blog I was doing it for me, to help myself work through my grief and have a record. It means a lot to know that my posts have in some ways meant something to others.

So again, thank you to all of you for everything. I'm going to keep writing, but probably not every day. I hope you'll stick with me even if I get a bit mundane. That's the goal right? To find and live my new normal? I think I'm on my way. I know I'll have set backs and I'm not there yet, but I'm on the path.

Follow Up Part 3

This afternoon I had my follow up with the high risk doctor.  I had several questions for him and some clarifications from my appointment with my regular OBGYN.  I was also hoping he might have the results from the genetic testing.  It was too late in the afternoon for Adam to go with me, so my mom came to be another set of ears and support.

Since I had only been to the office as an inpatient in the hospital, I had to fill out all the regular paperwork you fill out at a first appointment.  It was easier than when I had the ultrasound on my gallbladder.  That had been the first time I had to answer questions about pregnancy on medical forms.  How many pregnancies?  2  How many miscarriages? 1  How many births?  1  How many children?  0
This time it was a bit easier.  It still stung, but I didn't tear up like I did the first time.

When I was called back they took my weight and then led me to an ultrasound room.  I didn't say anything because I thought maybe they just took everyone here to finish the check in process.  Nope.  She just hadn't read far enough down my chart.  Luckily we left that room and went to a consult room.  She went over the medical history I provided and took my blood pressure.  Then we waited for the doctor.  I was hoping I was going to see the one I'd had while in the hospital, but I wasn't sure.

Thankfully he walked into the room a few minutes later.  I'm just more comfortable with him.  He sat down and asked how I was doing.  I told him OK.  I have more good days than bad now.  Some good days have some bad spots, but the good outweighs the bad most of the time.  The first thing we talked about was the genetic testing.  He'd gotten it.  Everything was normal.  Thank goodness.  One less thing to worry about and a weight had been lifted off my mind.  Then we talked about my list.

I asked him about the infection again because in all honesty when I talked about it with my regular OBGYN I was still in a fog and was so surprised, it went in one ear and out the other.  He said there was acute coria immunititis.  Basically there were white blood cells along the placenta.  They wouldn't be there unless there was an infection.  He said he wasn't surprised since the amniotic sac had been hanging down into the vagina basically since that first night I came to the hospital.  He didn't think an infection is what caused my cervix to open because I would have been showing signs before they gave me the antibiotics and even with the antibiotics I would have shown signs.  The good news, however, was that everything else about the placenta looked good.

Next we talked about trying to get pregnant again.  He had told us to wait at least 3 months before trying to get pregnant again but I had never asked for the reasons.  Emotionally I know we won't be ready for a while, but I figured there were physical reasons too.  He said it was to ensure the membranes that help close the cervix have time to reform and my cervix needs to heal in general.  Also, the longer we wait the more time my uterus has to get back to normal and form a thick lining to provide the best environment for implantation and a viable pregnancy.

I told him about the test my OBGYN wanted to perform on my uterus and he agreed it was a good idea to check.  There are several tests they can do.  One is the hysterosalpingogram (HSG) which involves injecting dye into the uterus and then having an xray to see the shape and if either of the fallopian tubes has a blockage.  This isn't the one she was recommending.  Another is the sonohysterosalpingogram.  Instead of dye and an xray, this test uses saline and ultrasound.  I don't think this is the one she suggested either because she never mentioned my fallopian tubes.  The last is a sonohysterogram or saline sonogram.  It's similar to the previous one except it only focuses on the uterus.  I think this is the one she suggested, but I need to ask her specifically which one she is going to do and why.

We also talked about a future pregnancy.  He said basically what we had talked about before.  I would see both him and my regular OBGYN the entire time.  He would want to see me right away (as would my OBGYN) to get gestational age, an estimated due date and blood work (especially my progesterone levels since they were an issue this time).  If we got through the first trimester and everything looked good he would recommend a cerclage at around week 14.  This is a little different than what my OBGYN said (she said 12-13 weeks), so when we get there I'll ask more questions about the specific timing.  Either way I'll have the surgery.  He said we could do nothing because it's not a guarantee that because it happened this time it will for sure happen next time, but he wouldn't recommend it.  Me either!  Better to be safe than sorry in my opinion.  I'll be nervous anyway, not having the surgery just seems crazy.  Other than that we'd just see how things go.  I may not need to be on bed rest, but we won't know until we get there.  In his opinion there was no reason to think that I couldn't carry a baby to term (or pretty close) with an early cerclage.  This was nice to hear.

He also reiterated what he had said in the hospital about doing everything we could, despite the risks to my health.  He said we'd followed everything to a T (limited activity, cleanliness, taking my medications, keeping an eye on my temperature, etc.) and unfortunately we just didn't get the outcome we'd wanted.  He also said he's had women who have not followed all instructions to a T and ended up loosing their uterus because an infection had gotten so bad.  At least that didn't happen.  It was nice to hear him say again though.  I do take comfort in knowing we did everything we could to give our daughter a chance.  I wish it had turned out differently of course, but at least that's one thing I don't have to have any regrets or guilt about.

Overall it was a good appointment and I felt good having a plan for the future when we left.  He also said the surgeons I'm seeing this week about my gallbladder are excellent, so another positive.

Getaway

This Spring Adam and I started planning a trip with his family to visit a close family friend in Savannah (technically Skidaway Island). We'd decided on a long weekend, July 19 - 22, and the tickets were bought. After everything happened I wasn't sure if my mother in law had cancelled the tickets or not. We talked about it a couple weeks ago and decided to still go (she hadn't cancelled anything and was playing it by ear). We thought it would be good for us to get away for couple days and try to relax and enjoy ourselves.

We had mixed emotions before going, but overall were looking forward to it. We'd be spending time with a family friend we hadn't seen in a while, going to the beach and enjoying historic Savannah. Adam and I were going to leave Thursday after he got off work so we'd be at his parents' in the morning. We were flying out of Louisville. All day I was in a good mood and looking forward to the trip. This was going to be good for us. My mom had been nice enough to come down and animal/house sit for us. We'd spent the day getting last minute things and I packed. It was a good day until Mom went to bed.

I don't know why it hit me then, maybe because I was alone, but I was suddenly upset. It might sound crazy, but I was upset about leaving our daughter. It was the first time we were leaving Lexington since I had her. I took comfort in having her box on the shelf in the closet. When I needed to see her I could. When I needed to let things out, I could pull it down to help. I know we really weren't leaving her, logically, but my heart felt differently. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't take the box and I didn't want to take anything out of it. I pulled the pictures out and told her goodbye. It helped, but I was still upset. I decided to take her bear. It was small, could fit in my purse and it was like I had a part of her with me. I felt a bit crazy, so I kept it to myself.

When Adam got home I told him about my feelings and he was very reassuring. He told me I wasn't crazy and it was totally understandable. I felt a little better and a little less crazy. We got on the road and made good time. After a good night's sleep I felt a lot better.

We got up that morning and went to the airport.  We had a smooth trip (more leg room than I'd expected) and arrived in Savannah in the late afternoon.  We got to our friend's house and enjoyed a relaxing evening of catching up.  The next day we had a lazy morning before heading into Savannah for a day of sightseeing and exploring.  I wore mascara for the first time in over a month (a milestone for me).  We took one of the hop on hop off tours around the historic center.  We had a good guide and I enjoyed all the squares.  We got off down on the River Walk, did some exploring and ate a late lunch.  We finished the tour and then headed back to our friend's house.  We did some more catching up and played a few games.

As we were all going to bed our friend pulled me aside to chat.  We hadn't really talked since everything happened.  She wanted me to know she was always thinking of us and was reading my blog.  She had just read "Reminders" and said she could really relate to it.  Her husband passed away several years ago and she said she still gets them, but it wasn't as bad as when it first happened.  It was nice to talk to her.

The next day was our beach day.  I love to swim, but don't get to often so I was really looking forward to it.  It rained the whole drive out, but when we got close the sun came out.  It was still raining lightly, but it wasn't storming and it eventually stopped.  We had a nice time.  Adam and I especially enjoyed swimming.  I was truly happy as we bobbed in the ocean with the waves, trying to avoid jelly fish.  We ran into one of his cousins randomly on the beach.  We had known that part of the family was going to be there, but hadn't made specific plans to see them.  It was serendipitous.  We ended up meeting them for a late lunch before heading back to our friend's.  When we got back she took us to a place on the island with a view of the inter coastal waters.  It was beautiful.  We came back today.

Overall it was a wonderful trip and it did feel good to get away for a bit.  There were a few times I got a little sad and I had lots of thoughts of, "I was supposed to be pregnant for this trip" (especially when I would see pregnant women) but the good outweighed the bad.  I think having her bear with me helped too.  I saw it every day and I felt better knowing I had some small part of her with me.  Adam saw it the day after we got there and said he was glad I'd brought it too.  I'm really glad we went.  I think it was good for all of us.

Follow Up Part 2

Now that you know all about what happened in the hospital, I can go into what we talked about medically at my follow up with my OBGYN.

First she asked how we were doing emotionally. Still pretty much the same. More bad days than OK days at this point, but that was normal. Then she asked about me physically. I still had some bleeding, but it was changing the way it was supposed to. My cramping was almost gone. At this point my milk had been pretty much reabsorbed too. Nothing out of normal to report.

The first thing we talked about was the result of the tests on the placenta. She said there had been signs of an infection. I was floored. We'd done so much to ensure that wouldn't happen and I hadn't shown any signs. How and when had it happened? Did it have anything to do with the outcome? Unfortunately these really ended up being rhetorical questions. She said it was hard to know when it happened. She didn't seem to think it happened before my cervix opened (thus it wasn't the initial cause). It was a case of having more information but not more answers.

Next we started talking about the future and my list of questions. She said she wasn't sure who would get the genetic results, her or the high risk doctor, but whoever got them would discuss them with us. It would still be several weeks before they would come in though. She wanted to do the ultrasound of my uterus with the fluid at the end of my first period. That could be a few weeks or months, depending on what my body did. She explained that I would come into the office, she would inject saline into my uterus and then do an ultrasound there. That would tell her about the shape of my uterus and if I had a wall.

Then we got to the other questions on my list. She said I should start my metformin again. I should keep taking my prenatal vitamins. She also cleared me for physical activity (thus my start of C25K). She was going to have me referred to the high risk doctor for a follow up with him (that happens on the 23rd). She also wanted me to get an ultrasound of my gallbladder and that day have my blood drawn to check my liver enzymes. It was a lot to take in, but at least we had a couple answers and a plan for the next couple months.

I had my gallbladder ultrasound the following week. They got the results and determined I have gall stones and a polyp. My blood work showed my liver enzymes were still slightly elevated. Gallbladder issues and pregnancy seem to go hand in hand for lots of women. She said if I had issues this time I would always have issues. Better to get it taken care of now when I'm not pregnant and won't be for a while. These things led her to refer me to a surgeon. That appointment is on the 26th. One month. Somehow it seems fitting. We'll see what he has to say. For someone who is not often sick, this year's medical issues are more than out of control.

July 1-2

These days were particularly rememberable because my milk had come in and I was engorged. Over the weekend I had felt them filling up, but it was these two days that were the worst. I was wearing a sports bra or the bra the hospital had given me all the time and I was careful in the shower (the new shower head with the hose came in handy to direct the spray). I knew these things wouldn't prevent my milk coming in, but the point was to keep from leaking and making more.

It's a weird feeling, being engorged. Gradually my breasts had gotten heavier and more firm. By Monday night it felt like I had two large boulders hanging from my chest. I'm larger chested to begin with, but this was ridiculous. They were sore (I could feel huge lumps of milk in them), my back hurt and the sports bra was so tight it hurt and left indentations in my skin. They had told me if it got really bad to pump for a minute or two to relieve the pressure. However, this could lead to more production and I just wanted it to be over. It was a constant reminder I couldn't escape from. I had a little leaking (my mom helped me make some guards for my bra out of a panty liner because we didn't have any breast pads and I wasn't going out to buy a whole pack for just a day or so) but not very much. Tuesday they were still engorged but started going down.

While I felt a bit like my body was betraying me (didn't it know my baby had been born too soon to survive and wasn't here to nurse?), it was a bit of a relief to be engorged with milk. I was so mad at my body for failing to do it's job keeping our daughter in, it was good to know at least one part of my body worked the way it was supposed to. It sucked at this moment, but now I knew I wouldn't have to worry about producing milk in the future (hopefully, knock on wood).

I don't remember much else about Monday aside from my mom arriving and my friend and her son leaving.  Adam went back to work that night and he said it was a good decision. I was glad. I'm sure my mom and I talked. At one point we watched Harry Potter. It was an OK day aside from being so sore and my back hurting. Tuesday was much the same. We had family coming the next day, so I had that to look forward to. Most of those two days revolved around my milk coming in full force and me just pushing through knowing once I got through the peak it would start to be reabsorbed and this part would be over. I could at least put that reminder behind me.

Reminders

I can go through my day feeling relatively normal and then out of nowhere I get sucker punched.  I never forget that I've lost my daughter.  I think about it often, but there are some things that bring it rushing to the forefront of my mind and punch my heart.  There have been several throughout the past 3 weeks, but yesterday there were tons so I thought it was time to write about it.

The first reminder was before she was gone.  At the time it was just a reminder of that first awful night, now it's of everything.  When I came home for less than 24 hours from the hospital I saw them.  The spots on our bedroom carpet where spots of blood had been cleaned up.  I appreciated my mom cleaning them up so I didn't have to deal with it.  Unfortunately the rest of our carpet was so dirty that the now very clean spots stand out like neon lights.  Now every time I walk by those spots everything feels fresh again.

I was doing some picking up around the house and came across a stuffed animal that hadn't made it into the closet yet.  I also found a maternity nightgown in the bottom of my drawer.  It was the nightgown I was wearing that first night. I thought I'd gotten everything, but I'd missed it.

The other day our neighbor was walking to the mailbox at the same time I was.  She smiled and said, "How's the baby?"  It's not her fault.  We hadn't told them.  I was waiting to see them outside at some point (when they weren't grilling, having people over or just enjoying each other's company . . . I didn't want to ruin their good time).  It's not something you knock on the door and tell someone.  In a way it was a good thing because she gave me a way to tell her without bringing it up myself.  It still stung.  I also felt bad that she felt bad.

I went to pick up my metformin prescription at the pharmacy.  I got up there and when the technician told me the total I was surprised because it was over twice what I usually pay.  I asked about it and he handed me the prescription to look at.  It was for the procardia I would have been taking at home on bed rest.  They had accidentally filled the wrong prescription.  I told him I didn't need that one anymore.  It was set to be refilled one more time and I told him to delete it, I wouldn't be needing it anymore.

I was in Hobby Lobby at the checkout.  I glanced at the woman at the next checkout and liked her shirt.  As I thought about it more I realized it was because I owned that shirt.  Then my brain clicked and I remembered it was a maternity shirt.

My mom couldn't find a number in her phone to send a text and asked me to look. I pulled it up and saw a text that had never been sent to the person. It was from April and said, "Doing good, getting excited about a new grandchild!" I handed her the phone telling her I'd found the number.

I had deleted the couple of pregnancy apps I had on my phone. I thought it was clear. I was scrolling through my pictures and saw one of her ultrasound from June 4th. I'd forgotten I'd taken it.

There have been others and there will be more, this is just a smattering of the ones that have been particularly difficult.

June 29-30

Before I begin I want to apologize for the erratic nature of yesterday's post.  I was all over the place.  That's how my emotions were at that time (and sometimes still are) but I didn't mean for my writing to get that way too.  I wish that I had started writing right away to better remember exact details.  The hospital is still pretty vivid in my mind, but those first several days after are all kind of a blur and feel like one long day.  It all meshes together in my mind.  I'm sure it's because the grief was at the forefront of everything for me so details were blurred.  I'm going to lump several days together from now on since it all felt like it was one day anyway.  I'm not sure I'll blog about every day once we get through this first weekend.  I'll probably just share specific details or emotions from the rest of that time up until the present.

Saturday was an especially rough day for me.  I woke up and again had to remember that all of this was real.  Today wasn't the day it became a part of my reality.  I again woke up in the same position I fell asleep in.  I was sad from the moment I got out of bed.  It helped to have my friend and her son with us, but the ache I felt inside was closer to the surface.

We spent a lot of the day talking and playing with my nephew (or watching him play with the dogs).  At one point in the afternoon Adam went out to run some errands and my friend took her son for a walk (I just wasn't in the mood to go).  I was alone for the first time (even though it was no more than an hour or so).  I'd been thinking a lot about our daughter's keepsake box, tucked away in the closet.  I decided that since I was alone I was going to look through it.  I still had no idea what was really in it.

I opened the closet door and pulled down the small white bear with a green bow they had given us as well as the white material covered box.  The top is flaps that close with a ribbon.  I untied the ribbon and saw the white blanket she'd been wrapped in on top.  I looked at the flaps (now open) and saw they had inserted a card with her tiny footprints into one of the windows of one of the flaps.  They were so small.  I lifted the blanket out of the box and saw a picture of those tiny feet that made the footprints with Adam's second toe.  I lost it.  I knew this was going to be hard, but I was truly unprepared for how hard.  I lifted the pictures out and looked at them.  Behind the picture of her feet was a picture of me holding her in bed, looking down at her with Adam standing next to us also looking down at her.  You can see the love and sorrow in our faces.  The next picture was of her face next to the bear we were given.  Her head was smaller than the bear's.  Her tiny hands were next.  I flashed to being in the hospital and holding her tiny left hand with my right thumb and index finger.  Then there was a full length picture of her on a blanket.  Her tiny dress and bonnet could be seen a lot better because she wasn't wrapped up.

I sat on the bed with the pictures in my hands and cried.  I couldn't bring myself to look at what else was in the box at this point.  That would have to happen another day.  I put everything up and went back out to the couch.  I cried and bit more and then pulled myself together.  A few minutes later Adam came home.  He walked in the door and said hi.  When he looked at me he could tell I was upset and he put down what he was carrying, sat next to me on the couch and wrapped his arm around me.  I started crying again and tried to tell him about looking at the pictures.  He just held me while I got the rest of it out.

The rest of the day was better.  My friend and her son came back and we ate dinner not long after.  After my nephew was asleep we popped one of the Harry Potter movies in, ate some ice cream and enjoyed zoning out with the movie and talking when we both needed to.  When my friend went to bed, I went down to the basement to be with Adam and watched the movie he had started.  We cuddled on the couch and again enjoyed zoning out, but talked when we needed to.  Talking to him I felt less like a crazy person.

In all honesty Sunday is kind of a blur.  It was much like Saturday except I felt a little better.  It still wasn't the day that I woke up and our daughter's death was a part of my reality, but it was a little better. Another of my friends came over for a bit that afternoon/evening.  I appreciated that my friends weren't going to let my grief swallow me if they could help it.  After the miscarriage last fall I did retreat into myself for a while and shut most everyone out.  I didn't want to do that this time and I was making an effort not to, but I know if I hadn't been surrounded by my amazing friends and family who were actively trying to make sure that didn't happen again, I would have.  I know there is a fine line between having distractions to help you focus on something else for a bit versus using them to not deal with your grief.  I think I found a balance.  I had people around, but I also made sure I had alone time and time with just Adam.  I know if I hadn't had people in my house that first week I wouldn't have gotten out of bed.

That night as I went to bed I thought about the new week.  Adam would be going back to work, but I wouldn't be alone while he was at work yet.  He wasn't ready for that (he would worry about me) and I wasn't ready for that.  My friend and her son were leaving, but my mom was coming back.  Some more family would be coming by to visit.  I had a doctor's appointment at the end of the week.  There would be enough good things and distractions to ensure I got out of bed, but also enough down and alone time for me to continue to grieve as I needed to.  One day at a time.

June 28

I was still in shock.  I was still sad and cried at the drop of a hat, but I was in a daze.  I woke up in the morning having to remember that I wasn't pregnant anymore, that our daughter had died.  I knew one day it would become a part of my reality, but not yet.  I'm sure part of it was that I just didn't want to believe it and when I was asleep I didn't have to.

While I slept in this morning, I wasn't well rested.  I usually move a lot during the night, but not last night.  I think my body just went into some sort of hibernation mode or forced rest.  Goodness knows I needed it.  After almost 2 weeks in the hospital and everything that had happened, I hadn't gotten near enough sleep for that amount of time.

At some point I got up.  I'm not sure when.  I talked with Mom while she made a meatloaf I could put in the oven later that day.  We spent a lot of time at the table talking and crying.  Today I was still sad, but I was also mad.  Why had this happened to us?  Why did my cervix fail?  Why did our daughter have to pay the price for my body's failure?  Why is there no warning that this will be an issue and you only know once something like this happens?  Why is having children so hard for us?  Why is it that people who are awful parents can have children with no problems but we can't?  Haven't we been through enough already?

Adam's mom and sister came back that afternoon.  It was nice to see them again and be in our house instead of the hospital.  Mom left in the afternoon and said she'd be back on Monday because I'd asked her to come back then.  One of my friends and her toddler came to visit that day too.  They were going to spend the weekend with us.  She asked me if I wanted her to come alone and I appreciated her asking (especially because it would mean leaving her son several hours away and she's never been away from him for a night).  I told her to bring him.  I still loved him.  I was still his "Aunt" Amanda.  It wasn't his fault I didn't have my baby anymore.  Plus I thought it would be good for me to see a happy, healthy baby (scratch that . . . toddler . . . he's so big now!), to know it was possible.  Plus his laugh will brighten anyone's mood.

They got here late that afternoon and we all visited for a while before dinner.  It was nice to sit around the table and eat with family and friends.  It made life seem a little normal for that part of time.  After dinner another of my friends dropped by to visit.  It was nice to be surrounded by so many people who love us. We had fun playing with my "nephew" and watching him with our dogs.  Adam's mom and sister left and said they'd be back any time we wanted them.

It was a nice evening of visiting.  My friends let me talk about things when I wanted to, but also steered the conversation in other directions so I could focus on other things.  They also did all the talking when they knew I just needed to listen for a bit.  I'm lucky to have such amazing friends.  I'd had a lot of good distractions and I was truly thankful.  If these people who love me hadn't been there to give me something else to think about and focus on I know I would have retreated into myself and lived in my haze of despair all day every day.  They helped me remember I was still alive and needed to function.

Later that evening Adam and I had some alone time and watched a movie.  We were trying to have a semblance of normal.  It worked on and off.  Since we were alone we were also able to talk and share what we were feeling and how we were coping.  We were honest with each other, even when it was hard.  That's another thing I'm thankful for.  I don't think we'd be able to make it through this if we weren't talking honestly.

I went to bed that night a mix of emotions, as usual.  I tried to focus on the good parts of the day, his mom and sister visiting, my friends and nephew visiting, making it through another day.  For the most part I was able to, but then I would think about her face, or her tiny hands, or her tiny feet and it was over.  I knew this was only the second day after loosing her so it was normal for me to be all over the place, but I felt  bit like a crazy person.  I had to remember tomorrow was another day.  There would be good, there would be bad, there might even be times where I didn't feel anything.  The goal was to try and focus on the positive and good in my life even when it was the hardest thing to do.

June 27

Day one of what our new life and new normal was going to be.  When I woke up I was still clinging to to hope that it had all been a bad dream.  It was too awful to have been real.  But as I took in my surroundings (a different room) and could not feel our daughter moving inside of me, it all sunk in again.  The events of yesterday flooded in and I cried.  This was my new reality.  My baby had died.  It was just Adam and me again.  We had thought it would never be just us again.  I laid there trying to figure out what was next.  How were we supposed to go on with our lives?

A tech came in to check all my vitals before too long.  She was nice, but kept asking me questions and I really wasn't in the mood to talk (especially to a stranger).  I know she meant well, but I couldn't handle it.  I gave one word answers or nodded my head.  Breakfast came.  I ate some of it.  Time clicked by.

At this point I was done with the hospital.  I wanted to go home.  I wanted to be away from this place where my daughter had died and I had experienced the worst day of my life.  The high risk doctor came in at some point after 10 am.  He asked how my bleeding and cramping were.  I described both and it all seemed to be normal.  I was taking Motrin for the cramping and thus far that had been enough.  I think I was in so much pain emotionally at this point that my physical pain paled in comparison.  He said they would draw my blood again and see what my liver enzymes were doing.  If they were at least going down I would be able to go home.  He said that delivery may have tipped the scales, so he was hopeful.  I asked him about binding for my breasts (no one had brought anything yesterday after my OBGYN had left and I'd been too exhausted to ask).  He said he'd write another order and make sure they got it.  He also told me that when I got home I needed to wear a sports bra 24/7 and avoid hot, running water on my nipples in the shower.  Any stimulation could cause my breasts to make more milk and could also cause leaking which would have the same effect.  Just another reminder that I'd had a baby, but didn't have her anymore.

The day is kind of a blur.  I was still in a daze and exhausted.  It felt like the longest day I'd been in the hospital yet.  At some point someone came in to draw blood (what's another stick?).  They also brought in a bra that was similar to a sports bra.  I remember the tech asking if a medium would work . . . bless her.  No, I would be needing the XL.  In the afternoon my regular OBGYN came in to talk with us.  We had a long talk with her and she was very comforting.  The first thing she asked was how we were both grieving (I appreciated that she included Adam).  I said I thought it was pretty normal thus far.  I wasn't sure what to say.  I felt like a crazy person because I cried all the time (I wondered how I still had tears at this point), sometimes for no reason.  I felt so guilty because it was my body that failed to do it's job (OK, not my whole body, my cervix to be specific).  I felt angry that this was happening.  Why us?  I didn't want to interact with the world because that meant this was all real.  I was dreading telling people.  What is a good way to tell someone who thought you were pregnant, due late October, that you'd had your baby early and she died?  I was heartbroken because I'd wanted this baby girl so much and I'd only gotten her for the briefest amount of time.  Needless to say I was all over the place . . . which I guess is normal, so that's what I said.

She did the regular checks to see how my belly tenderness was and bleeding and so forth and then she sat down so we could talk about the future.  She asked if we were ready for that yet, and we said yes because I wanted to know what the plan was.  I needed to have something in the future to focus on.  She said the first thing would be to look at the genetic testing.  It would be several weeks before we would get that back though.  If there were any abnormalities Adam and I would get tested and see if either of us have an abnormality in our chromosomes that we'll always pass on.  She said what they were looking for was too much of a chromosome, not enough or extra chromosomes.  The karyotype wouldn't show small abnormalities, but they weren't really concerned about that.  She also told us it was pretty unlikely that was the problem.  Usually there will be a history of lots of miscarriages in several women on one or both sides.  We don't have that, so here's hoping.  She said the next step would be to do a test on my uterus.  It could be that mine is abnormally shaped and can't stretch enough to carry a baby to term.  Or there could be a wall that won't let it get as big as it is supposed to.  To check this I would come into her office and she would inject fluid into my uterus and then look at it on ultrasound.  She didn't really go into what kind of treatments might be available if I do have an abnormal uterus.  We'll cross that bridge if we come to it (and to be honest I'm too afraid to look it up on the internet because I'll just freak myself out . . . I have enough to worry about right now, I don't need to add that to the list when it may not be an issue).  If both of those come back normal, then we'll know that my main problem is that I have an incompetent cervix (aside from the PCOS).  And that's enough.  She said that unfortunately there is really no way to tell until something like this happens.  For a future pregnancy I would have a cerclage at the end of the first trimester.  They would monitor the baby and make sure it was healthy and I was doing well and if so at week 12 or 13 I would have the surgery.  At least I know what to expect.  A cerclage at this point would have a much higher success rate because there would be a lot more tissue to work with and the cervix would be completely closed and rigid.  The hope is that if my cervix tried to open too soon again, the cerclage would already be there to stop it.  It was a lot to take in, but I'm glad we talked about it.  I had an appointment with her Friday of the following week already, so she said to just keep it.  We'd talk some more and see how I was doing physically and emotionally.  She also went over the breast care instructions that the high risk doctor had talked to me about.

Then we came to my liver enzymes.  Finally some good news, they were going down.  They weren't normal yet, but decreasing.  That meant I could go home today.  It was a relief to hear.  I didn't so much care about the liver enzymes, I just wanted to be out of the hospital and in my own house again.  She said she'd get things rolling to discharge me.  Of course, that process took forever (or so it seemed).  My nurse came in to give me an MMR shot.  I'd already had it several times, but I wasn't showing an immunity to one of them (later I found out it's Rubella) so one of my doctors had ordered it.  I later found out from Dr. Case that the reason I got it was because Rubella can cause a lot of birth defects, so they like to do all they can to help ensure women are immune.  However, if you've had the shot 3 times and are still not immune, you never will be.  My mom later told me I'd already had it 3 times, so now I've had it 4.  Guess I'm just one of those lucky people who's not immune (fortunately it's not really a problem here in the USA, it's only a concern if I want to travel somewhere that it's still prevalent).  We waited some more.  And waited some more.  Finally at around 3:30 pm my nurse took my IV out and went over my discharge paperwork.  I was so glad to be leaving.

I was wheeled down to the entrance and Adam got the car.  We were both hungry and tired so we stopped to get something on the way home.  Mom and Dad were there when we got home and we talked with them for a while.  Adam was going to take the rest of the week off, at least, and it was nice to come home knowing that.  Dad stayed for a bit after we got there, but then he headed home.  Mom was going to stay until tomorrow then leave for the weekend while one of my friends came down to be with me.  Adam's Mom and sister were going to come back tomorrow for the day to visit as well.  I wasn't ready to be alone, but a lot of people at this point was a bit overwhelming.

I honestly don't remember a lot of the details of the rest of the evening.  I'm sure I took a shower at some point.  I went through my closet and drawers to catch a few maternity clothes that had been missed.  I went through the house to make sure all the baby things were put up in the closet.  Mom had gotten most of it, but there were a few things left.  Our daughter's ultrasound picture as well as a few congrats cards were still on the fridge.  The book and folder of info from my doctor's office about pregnancy were still in the dining room.  I put it all in the closet.  I know I cried on and off.  We probably hung out in the basement and watched some TV or Netflix.  It's all kind of a blur.  I was just glad to be home.

I went to sleep at some point and was glad to be in my own bed.  There were fresh sheets and our room was clean.  I still didn't quite believe any of this was real, but it was sinking in more and more now that we were home.  I still didn't quite know how to function when I woke up the next morning, but I figured as long as I got out of bed that was a good first step and I would figure it out along the way.  I was so exhausted that I woke up the next morning in the exact same position I'd fallen asleep in.  I hadn't moved at all.

June 26

Our daughter's birthday.  I certainly hadn't planned on this and I was unprepared for what this day was going to be like.  This is going to be a long and sometimes graphic post, but I hope at the end I feel the same sense of a weight being lifted as I did with other posts.

The evening had gone pretty well.  I'd had a bit of bleeding, but only when I went to the restroom.  I hadn't had any contractions.  My temperature had stayed normal.  I didn't have any tenderness in my belly.  Our daughter was still moving and had a strong heartbeat.  Things seemed to be holding at normal.  I had no indication that midnight would bring so many changes to our lives.

Around midnight I woke up because I needed to pee.  As I was lying there deciding to get up, I knew something was wrong.  I was lying on my side and I felt like I had bled some more.  I woke Mom up and asked her to check because I couldn't see.  She moved the pillow that had been propped behind me and I saw the lower part of it was covered in blood.  We called the nurse in saying I'd had some bleeding.  She came in and immediately called in some more nurses.  I knew this wasn't good.  I'd had that feeling, but now I knew.  All the lights were turned on and they started changing all the chucks, sheets and my hospital gown.  I now noticed I was feeling some cramping.  They called the doctor who was there to check on me.

About this time Adam texted to see if I was still awake (he usually calls me on his way home if I'm still up).  I asked Mom to call him and tell him to come straight to the hospital.  The nurses cleaned me up as best they could and the doctor came in.  He did an exam and determined I was almost fully dilated.  The stitch the high risk doctor hadn't been confident in had failed.  I was going to deliver our daughter that night.  I was such a mix of emotions. I was upset because I knew at this point she had no chance. I was mad because we were only 3 days (now) away from 23 weeks. I was scared because I've never given birth before. I was sad because I knew at the end of all of this I wasn't going home with my baby girl.  I just started sobbing.  I'd been trying to keep my emotions in check to not put any extra pressure on my cervix, but it had failed me so I just let it all out.

Mom called Adam's mom and sister, who were at our house,  to let them know what was going on so they could call his Dad, who was in Louisville, and have him get on the road.  They said they'd get my dad up so he could come too.  The next little bit is kind of a blur because so much was going on and I was still in a daze.  I couldn't believe this was happening.  It's what we had been hoping and praying wouldn't happen from that first night we came to the hospital, and now it was happening.  Surely that couldn't be right could it?  Things had been holding at OK.  Why were they now terrible and worst case scenario?  Especially when we were so close to the first milestone.  It just wasn't fair.

That night I'd had a nurse who I'd never had during my now 11 day stay (you'd have thought I'd met them all at this point).  Once everything started and it was clear I was going to deliver, they switched me to a nurse I'd had before.  I can't put into words how much that meant to me.  This was going to be a horrible experience, but at least I knew the nurse who was primarily taking care of me.  Adam got there around 12:40 am and she came in to talk to us.

She asked if I wanted them to check about getting me an epidural.  I said no.  I figured things were going to move pretty quickly and by the time they got someone there, it would be to late anyway.  Another part of me also thought that maybe if I felt the pain now, it would help me release some of the emotional pain too.  She asked if we wanted anyone else with us.  We said no, we wanted it to be just us.  They set our family up in another room to wait.  She told us that they were going to give me some pitocin to help move things along.  I was now definitely having contractions, but they weren't consistent.  We all knew the outcome and she said there wasn't a reason for me to be in pain longer than I needed to be.  Then she asked us about pictures.  A nurse always takes some pictures of the baby and the new family that you can take with you.  She said we had a couple options.  If we knew we didn't want pictures she would not bring in a camera.  If we weren't sure, she would take pictures but not be intrusive.  If we knew we wanted pictures she would take a lot.  We wanted the option to have pictures if we wanted them, so we chose the second scenario.  It may sound morbid, pictures of your baby that you know isn't going to make it, but I wanted the option.  I knew I'd be able to remember her face now, but over time it would fade and I didn't want to forget her.  She also asked if I wanted to hold her right away or if I wanted them to take her and clean her up.  I said I wanted her right away.  I knew we weren't going to have long with her and I wanted every moment.

It's hard to describe the emotions I had during labor and her delivery.  Usually when you give birth you know you're going to hear your baby cry, you'll get to look in their eyes and in the end you'll take your baby home.  I knew I wasn't going to get any of that.  The nurse came in shortly with the pictocin and asked if I wanted any morphine since I wasn't getting the epidural.  I said not right now.  I wanted to see how things went.  Again, I thought that maybe feeling the physical pain might help me release and deal with some of the emotional pain.  My contractions became a lot more regular now and a lot more intense.  It's hard to describe contractions.  It felt a bit like a wave that started low in my pelvis and then squeezed tighter and harder up to my belly button and then released back down.  It also felt a bit like I was on fire.  They got more and more intense.  I was also having back labor . . . of course.  This couldn't be somewhat easy in any way could it?  Adam was wonderful.  He rubbed my back and put pressure on the spots I asked him to.  He brought me ice to crunch on.  He held my hand and stroked my hair.  I knew this couldn't be easy on him either.  He had to see me in pain and knew the outcome was not going to be happy.  But he never faltered.

My contractions started getting more frequent and intense with hardly a break in between, but my water still hadn't broken.  My nurse came in to check on me and asked if I would be interested in having the doctor break my water.  I said yes.  In another situation I don't know if that would have been my choice, but this was no ordinary situation.  We knew once my water broke things would move very quickly so we prepared for that.  At that point I did ask for some morphine.  I knew the rest of this was not going to be pleasant (he was still going to have to take out the stitches that didn't fail on top of everything else).  She gave me some right before he broke my water.  This was not long before 3 am.  I know in the scheme or labors, it hadn't been long, but knowing what the outcome would be made it feel like it had been 10 hours instead of 3.

The nurses had been asking me throughout my hospital stay if I'd felt any gushes.  I'd always said no, and wondered what qualified as a gush.  The moment he broke my water I knew.  That was a gush.  He got up from the bed (I wasn't in a regular delivery bed, I was in a hospital bed so it was a little awkward for him) to let my nurse clean up and left.  She moved the chucks that were soaked and had me move to put some new ones under me.  As I moved I felt another gush.  I guess only half of the amniotic fluid had come out initially and moving helped the rest come out.  I immediately started to feel pressure.  I told the nurse what I felt and that I thought our daughter was coming.  Sure enough, her little feet and legs were out not a moment later.  Once the amniotic fluid was gone, there was nothing to hold her in anymore.  My nurse literally held our daughter's tiny bottom half with one hand and called for the doctor using the call button with the other.

This part was very uncomfortable.  Even though she was so small, she still needed help getting out and we had to wait for the doctor.  It felt like an eternity, but I'm sure it was probably only a minute.  He came back in and I halfway pushed and he helped her head out.  She was born at 3:01 am.  They quickly cut the cord, wrapped her in a few blankets and handed her to me.  I just sobbed.  She was so beautiful even though she was tiny.  Adam stood next to me and held my hand as we looked at our daughter.  While we were looking at her the doctor was working on me.  He was delivering the placenta now, instead of waiting for it to happen naturally.  I'm not sure why he chose to do this, my thought was that he was trying to get it over with for our sake emotionally.  It was pretty painful.  I think I cut off circulation to Adam's hand at one point.  Once the placenta was delivered he needed to take the rest of the stitches out of my cervix.  I had to be propped up on an upside down bed pan again and he went to work.  At some point during all of this they gave me some more morphine, but I don't know how much good it did.

There was a point while they were cleaning me up and we were still gazing at her that she tried to take a breath.  They had warned us this might happen.  It was still surprising and so hard to watch.  We both gasped and then cried.  Her lungs just weren't developed enough to be able to take a breath.  The nurses were doing things, cleaning the room, taking care of me, but it was all a blur.  All I could focus on was looking at our daughter's tiny face and hands.  I was so amazed by how beautiful she was even though she was so small and premature.  She had my nose.

We held her and gazed at her for a while on our own and then said our family could come in too.  My mom held her first.  I can't honestly say if everyone held her at this point.  I couldn't really look at our family and I was crying on and off.  I know my mother in law held her at this point too.  Everyone looked at her though, I know that.  I told my mother in law that our daughter's head shape was from her side (they have large noggins, we call it the Dittmeier head).  Even though she was so tiny, her head still needed help to come out.  She smiled and cried.  I wanted to know (and others to know) how much a part of Adam and I she was.  At some point our family left, and I can't remember why.  It may have been something the nurses had to do with me, perhaps checking my bleeding.

At this point my nurse asked if we were ready for her to take our baby girl and clean her up a bit.  She was going to take a few pictures too.  We said yes, but it was hard to give her up.  She brought her back before too much longer, but it felt like forever.  I wanted to be with her for as long as I could.  When she brought her back to us she was dressed in a tiny dress with a bonnet and was wrapped in a tiny white blanket (donated by the Linus Project).  This time when I held her I felt her.  Before it was hard because the blankets were bigger than her and took up so much space.  As we looked at her I pulled the blanket back so I could see her little feet.  She had Adam's toes.  His second toe is longer than his big toe and so was hers.  It was comforting and heartbreaking to find ourselves in her.

At one point the nurse came in to talk to us about some logistical things (many of which I hadn't even thought about).  The first thing was what we wanted on our daughter's birth certificate.  This was especially hard for us.  We'd only really seriously started thinking about names the week before all this happened.  We'd waited until we knew if she was a boy or girl.  We had also decided that we wanted to come up with a few top names and then when she was born pick one.  But we hadn't had time to come up with that list yet.  We had a few we liked, but none of them were attached to her.  We'd just been calling her "Baby Girl" or "our little Brownie."  We didn't want to pick some arbitrary name for her just so she'd have a name.  That didn't seem fair to her.  We talked about it for a while and finally decided to list her name as "Baby Girl Browne."  We had been calling her that and it seemed more appropriate than picking something out of the air right then.  It was all just too much.  It's something we are still struggling with to this day.  Part of us wants her to have a name, but part of us wants to keep it Baby Girl Browne because that's what she was and is to us.  If we decide to change it we can.  It's still overwhelming to think about.

The next thing she talked to us about was burial.  Again, something I never thought I'd have to think about.  It also felt odd to be talking about these things when she still had a heartbeat.  But they wanted to talk to us about these things before our family came in and we wanted them to have a chance to see her, hold her and love her too.  We had a few options.  The first was through the hospital.  They have a section at Lexington Cemetery for infants and it doesn't cost the family anything.  The second was to take care of it ourselves and they had some information about local mortuaries.  The third was cremation.  It was so much to think about and take in.  I couldn't believe this was my life, that I had to think about this and make some sort of decision that day.

The other thing she wanted to ask us about was where I wanted to be moved.  After delivery, usually women are moved to the "Mother and Baby" rooms.  She said if I wanted to go there I could.  The other option was to be moved to a random room somewhere in the rest of the hospital.  This was not a hard decision.  I said I wanted to go somewhere else.  There was a paper on my door that was a purple heart shaped balloon with a purple tear below it.  This is a sign to anyone that works there that I had lost my baby.  They said it would move with me so even though I wouldn't have the labor and delivery nurses anymore, the staff would still know.  I couldn't imagine staying in a mother and baby room . . . it would be like rubbing salt in the wound.  Staying in the hospital was already going to be hard enough.

After we'd talked about these things we said we were ready for our family to come back in.  I think the nurses kept them updated, but I really don't know a lot of what happened from their end.  Maybe I'll ask one of them write something from their perspective.  They came in a few minutes later.  I still couldn't make eye contact with anyone because I started crying.  I asked if anyone wanted to hold her again and my mom took her.  I couldn't really watch.  I knew it was hard on my mom (and all our family in general) because she was sad about losing this little girl, her granddaughter, but also because it was hard for her to see me going through this.  Everyone held her for a bit and then she came back to me.  I cried intermittently throughout this time.  I handed her off to Adam again and watching him with her was the hardest for me.  He took in all her tiny features and cried.

We had decided we wanted her with us until she no longer had a heartbeat.  We didn't want her to be alone.  We wanted her to be surrounded by love and family until the end.  It was the hardest time of my life.  Holding her, knowing she would be gone soon.  The nurse would check her every time she came in and could still hear her heartbeat, but she gave us as much time alone as she could.

It was getting closer and closer to shift change and no one had been in to check on us in a while.  We decided that if she didn't have a heartbeat when they checked her at shift change, we would be ready to hand her over.  They told us we could keep her with us for as long as we wanted and even have her bought back to us later for as long as we were in the hospital, even when I was no longer on the maternity floor.  While I wanted to keep her with us, I knew it was only going to be harder the longer we kept her.  But she would stay with us until the end.  She was going to be with her Mom and Dad until she was gone.  We told our family this around 7 am and told them if they wanted to say goodbye, now was the time.  It was hard on all of us.  There was a lot of hugging and crying.  Adam and I have always said we were lucky when it came to in laws and this experience has only strengthened that belief.  Seeing my mom hug Adam's mom while they both cried meant a lot to me.  They were there for each other too.  We were all going through Hell, but we were all together and there for one another.

She came back to me after everyone else had gotten to tell her goodbye and I talked to her.  I told her how much we loved her.  I told her how sorry I was that I couldn't keep her in longer.  I told her to look for her great-grandparents and her great-great-grandmother, they would take care of her.  I just couldn't think of her being alone.  I still couldn't believe this was happening.  It just wasn't fair.  Why did my cervix fail me?  She was fine.  She'd been active and had a strong heartbeat throughout all of this.  It wasn't her fault.  She paid the price for my defective body.  I know logically this wasn't my fault, but it was still my body that failed to keep her in long enough.

My night nurse came in around 8 am to introduce my day nurses.  I thanked her for being so wonderful throughout all of this.  She was so compassionate and handled everything so well.  Having her as my nurse was a comfort.  They did their checks on me and then checked our daughter.  The nurse said she couldn't hear anything now.  It was almost as if she knew that we'd all been telling her goodbye and she could let go now.  The high risk doctor came in a minute or so later.  He was very kind.  He said he was sorry things turned out this way, it's not what any of us had wanted or hoped for.  He also said we'd done all we could.  Everything he'd suggested I'd just said "yes" despite the risks to my own health.  It's not something I'd really thought about at the time.  Yes I knew there were risks, but they hadn't mattered.  It was nice to hear him say that.  It was a small comfort to know we'd done all we could.  In the end it just wasn't enough.  He said they still didn't know what was going on with my liver enzymes, so I'd be in the hospital until at least tomorrow.  When we were ready he would examine her and confirm that she no longer had a heartbeat.

We took a few more minutes with her.  Adam held her one more time and then I held her again.  I told the nurses we were ready.  I gave her a kiss on the forehead, told her I loved her and handed her off.  I then became a sobbing mess.  That moment made it all real.  My baby girl was gone.  Adam sat next to me on the bed and we held each other and cried.  We all spent the next few minutes comforting each other.  One of my nurses came in a bit later and said that the doctor wanted to talk to Adam and I alone.  What did this mean?  The day just kept getting worse and longer.  Our family hugged us and went out to the waiting room.

The doctor came in and told us that he confirmed our daughter no longer had a heartbeat.  I think they listed her time of death at 8:30 am, but I honestly can't remember right now.  The reason he wanted to talk to us alone was that when he examined her he thought her clitoris was a bit large.  He said sometimes premature babies just look like that because their bodies haven't had time to even out and become proportionate.  However, it could also mean she had a chromosomal abnormality.  I just stared at him.  What?  Really?  This had to get worse?  He suggested having part of the cord sent off and having a karyotype made to just be sure.  It could be nothing, but it would be better to know because it could have an affect on future pregnancies.  If it turned out she had an abnormality, then Adam and I would be tested to determine if this was just a fluke or if one of us will always pass this on.  Again, it was all too much.  We just nodded and said to do it, not really quite understanding.

They said my other room was ready and that when we were ready to move they would take me up.  We asked for our family to come back in and I finally got up to pee.  Our family gathered everything up in the room to take back to the house.  They left us with a few snacks to take to the next room.  We all hugged and said goodbye.  Adam and I wanted to be alone for a while and we all needed to get some sleep.

Before we could go to the other room we had to take care of some paperwork.  We had to sign her birth certificate.  Then we had to sign the paperwork to release her to Lexington Cemetery.  She will be there  around 30 days after her birth.  We talked with each other and with our families and decided this was the best option.  I liked knowing where she'd be and it's a beautiful cemetery.  According to the paperwork there are two sections.  One for infants under 20 weeks and one for infants over 20 weeks.  She will be in the second.  It also said you can have a granite marker made (to their specifications) if you choose to in this section.  We want to do that when we can bring ourselves to call the cemetery and find out the specifications and then call a monument company to order it.  It's still difficult to think about.

After signing all the paperwork, they took me up to the other room and Adam and I sat there in silence for a bit waiting for my new nurse to come in and get things settled so we could try and sleep.  She came in, made sure I was all taken care of, brought Adam some sheets for the chair bed and told us if we needed anything to call.  Adam made his "bed" and I laid down.  We held hands, each in our own bed, for a while, said "I love you" and then tried to get some sleep.  We slept on and off for a lot of the morning and early afternoon.  My regular OBGYN came in at some point but didn't stay long so we could sleep.  She said she'd come back the next day and we would talk more.  I asked her about my milk coming in (the gift that keeps on giving) and she said she'd write the order to get me some binding to help. I don't remember what time exactly we got up, but it was early afternoon.

I hadn't showered since Friday and I couldn't stay in the gown I had on any longer.  I called the nurse in to see if it was OK for me to take a shower.  She said it was and bagged up my IV arm.  It was the best and worst shower of my life.  I cried and tried to wash away some of my grief with the grime of the past few days.  I put on my new gown and underwear with the pad and ventured back out into the room.  I couldn't believe it was the same day.  It felt like it had been a year.

We sat on my bed and talked and cried for a little bit.  My nurse came in and we asked her to make sure I would get dinner because they didn't bring lunch.  I didn't really feel like eating, but I knew I needed to.  Adam felt the same way.  We decided to call my parents and tell them they could come back for a short visit.  We also asked them to bring Adam some dinner so he didn't have to go down to the cafeteria.  Neither of us wanted to be without the other just yet.  His parents and sister had gone home to try and recover and would come back when we were home and ready.

They came a little after I'd finished my dinner and gave Adam his.  They also brought Adam some clothes in case he wanted to change (he was still in his work clothes) and some of my toiletries, including my brush.  I hadn't done anything with my hair since my shower so my mom offered to brush it and braid it again.  They visited with us for a little while, but didn't stay too long.  We were all still exhausted physically and emotionally.  I still couldn't look my mom in the eye, it was too hard.  I knew I'd lose it.  I did ask her to put away all the baby things and my maternity clothes.  I know that it can be part of the grieving process for us to do that, but I just couldn't do it yet.  I knew at some point I would go through them and that would be good enough.  The thought of coming home and seeing those things around the house was too heartbreaking.  There was a pack and play set up in our basement.  There were clothes, books, toys, blankets, and stuffed animals in the nursery (that we were now going to call the "little bedroom" again).  There was a car seat somewhere.  There was a bouncy/vibrating chair in our family room.  My maternity clothes were in my closet, summer and fall (I'd just gotten some for my birthday . . . early . . . from my mom for the fall since I was supposed to be pregnant through the end of October).  I just couldn't deal with all of that all at once when we got home.  I asked her to put it all in the closet in the little bedroom so it would all be together.  When I was ready to look at it I could.  I knew it would be hard for my mom too and it meant so much to me that she was willing to do it for me.

Right as they left a storm rolled in and it started raining.  Appropriate.  The weather was matching my mood.  We stayed up for a bit zoning out watching TV.  I was in a daze still.  It just didn't seem real.  Early that morning our daughter had been born and she passed away several hours later.  I wasn't pregnant anymore.  We weren't coming home with our baby girl.  I felt so empty inside.  Every time I would think of her face I started crying.  I kept thinking, "What now?"  Logically I knew we'd go home, but then what?  It seemed so impossible.  How were we supposed to function?

We finally decided to try and sleep again at some point.  We were both still so exhausted that we were actually able to sleep, despite the turmoil we were feeling inside.  The high risk doctor would be back in the morning as well as my regular OBGYN and hopefully they'd tell us that my liver enzymes were fine so we could go home.  The thought of spending any more time in the hospital made me ill.  I was ready to not be there anymore.  It was full of sorrow and pain.  Plus I felt like I had to keep my grief in check so as not to disturb other patients.  I wanted to wail, but I couldn't.  Once we were home I could let more of it out the way I wanted.

As I went to sleep that night I was still in shock.  I still couldn't believe this was real.  I kept hoping I would wake up soon and this was all just a bad dream I'd had about what could happen.  How was this my life?  This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.  I was supposed to still be pregnant and enjoying feeling my daughter move inside me.  She was gone.  The baby we'd been hoping for for so long was gone.

While everything was falling apart, I was thankful for a few things.  First, my husband.  I knew that even though things were going to be bad for a while we would get through it because we have each other. He had been wonderful throughout everything.  We were being honest with each other, talking and sharing what we were feeling.  Second, my family and friends.  Everyone had been so supportive, loving and there for us in so many ways.  We are truly lucky.  Third, that we had gotten the time with our daughter that we did.  While it was the hardest day of my life, holding her and loving her was comforting.  If we hadn't gotten that time with her the day would have been even harder and more miserable.  She wasn't alone and was held and loved by her parents, grandparents and one of her aunts. I missed her terribly already, but I took comfort in knowing she was with us until the end.

Baby Girl Browne was born on June 26, 2013 at 3:10 am.  She was 11.5 inches long and weighed 1 lb 3 oz.  She had her mother's nose and her father's toes.  She was beautiful.  She was ours.  We didn't have her long, but treasure the time we did get with her.  Mommy and Daddy love you and always will.

July 13

We've made it far enough in the story now that the next post from that time will be about our daughter's birth.  It's going to be a difficult one to write and will probably take me a couple of days.  I wanted to let everyone know since I've been posting every day that there probably won't be a post tomorrow.  Also it's our anniversary tomorrow and I don't want to post about the hardest day of our lives on a day we're supposed to celebrating and focusing on happy times.  Thank you to all of you who have been reading and messaging/commenting.  It means a lot.

I also want to use the post as a bit of a warning about the June 26 post.  As I've said, I'm using this blog to work through my grief, but it's also a record of that time.  While things are pretty vivid now, they won't be in a year or so.  Because of all this I will be going into all the details of her birth and it will be graphic.  I just wanted to warn you before you read it.

Thank you again for reading and for all of your love and support.