Goodbye

4 years of trying for a baby.

2 rounds of IVF, 175 shots.

Over 100 days of being nauseous all day, every day.

5 months of being pregnant.

Now, all for nothing.

On the day of our transfer, we were told that we had a 40% chance of bringing home a baby at the end of this process. By the 10 week ultrasound when all looked well and there was a healthy heartbeat, the odds had increased to 95%. By the 20 week ultrasound, 99%.

And we were in the unlucky 1%.

It seems especially cruel that this happened just a week after that joyous 20 week ultrasound. Our baby looked perfectly healthy and we found out we were having a son. Last Friday I went baby shopping for the first time. We bought adorable clothes. I chose the nursery theme.

Last week I was planning his nursery and this week I am planning his funeral.

It seems especially cruel that if it had happened just a few weeks earlier, I wouldn't have had to go through labor (there are more options to deliver the baby if they're smaller).

It seems especially cruel that if it had happened just a few weeks later,  our baby would have had a chance to fight for his life in the NICU. 21 weeks was just too early.

On Tuesday, my water broke. There were no warning signs. I wasn't even positive what had happened. We went to the ER and confirmed. The technical term is PPROM- preterm premature rupture of membranes. We did an ultrasound and although no fluid remained, the doctor said it was possible for the baby to survive and to stay pregnant for another month or even more. He had a strong heartbeat and looked fine. The internet is full of miracle PPROM survival stories.

We went home, at which point I started gushing blood. Our slim hopes kind of went out the window at that point. We went back to the doctor and after a checkup she thought I would go into labor in the next 24 hours.

I didn't. We blessedly were able to sleep in our own beds that night. Neither of us obviously slept well, but some sleep in our own home was better than none.

Since there is a risk of infection if your water breaks and you don't deliver the baby soon afterward, a doctor called me the next day and told me to come check into the hospital for a few days of IV antibiotics. If I continued to not go into labor and not to develop an infection, I could have ended up staying in the hospital for weeks or even months of bedrest.

I checked in and they did an ultrasound before starting the antibiotics. Our baby didn't have a heartbeat. Although I knew this was a possibility, I wasn't expecting that so suddenly. I expected to lose him through going into labor too early. I didn't expect him to pass away on his own.

It was obviously devastating news, but in some ways I was comforted that I wouldn't have to watch him die. If it had happened the way I thought it would, he could have been born alive and then struggled or been in pain before passing away. That sounded like an even worse nightmare.

David came to join me and I moved to the labor and delivery floor. After about 4 hours of waiting around, I started medication to induce labor. I started feeling some cramping about an hour later. When it got more uncomfortable I got some IV pain meds. 

We turned out the lights to try to rest. David fell dead asleep but I was getting more uncomfortable. I decided to get an epidural. It was not a fun process to get it, and it didn't work at first. It only took the pain away on one side, and I started really hurting. They came back and HALLELUJAH, were able to fix it and increase the dose.

Within 20 minutes I was completely numb and fell asleep for a little while. A doctor came back to give me more of the induction medication, but when he checked me I was completely ready to deliver. I honestly thought he was joking, because the last time I had been checked a few hours previously I was only 1cm dilated. Apparently with preterm deliveries this is a common occurrence. 

I couldn't move my legs at all. It was an extremely weird feeling. But the actual delivery was not very traumatic because I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel anyone touching me or any part of the actual delivery. That completely shocked me. I thought that even if an epidural took away the pain, you would still be able to feel pressure or other sensations. 

After 7 hours of labor, our son Christian David Rubino was born at 3:02am on February 11th, 2021.

The traumatic part came later. We had the baby brought in to say hello, and then a few hours later brought back to say goodbye. As much as we love him, it's not easy to see a baby that's so fragile and tiny and so not ready for the world. It's not easy to meet someone that you want so desperately but don't get to bring home.

He had blue eyes, weighed one pound, and was 11.5 inches long. He had very long fingers- maybe he would have played piano like his dad.

We got to go home 8 hours after delivery. We were itching to get out of there. 

We're having our moments where we're okay and our moments where we break down. When I looked at my changed and much thinner body for the first time after having him, I hated it. I hate not being pregnant so much. 

You could offer us anything in the world and there is nothing more we want than to be parents. It's awful to me that it seems so easy for almost every other couple. I can't imagine what it's like for most people to just decide they want to be parents and then it happens. Or that for so many people, it happens accidentally. I know everyone has trials, but I wish I could choose a different one for myself.

We're so so sad that we don't get to be parents on Earth to this child. We're so so sad that we now have to wait what seems like an impossibly long time to try again and start this process over again.

We don't know why it happened medically. What's keeping us going right now is looking to the future and knowing that we will do every possible form of testing to find any and all answers (if there are any). 

So that's where we are. Despite everything, we're happy to have each other and to be part of loving families, and to have faith that we will be reunited in the next life with both this baby and the baby we lost at 5 weeks last summer.

Goodbye, baby Christian. We didn't even get to know you, but we really miss you.

His tiny, perfect feet.