It's been one year since the worst days of our lives. I've already written about what happened, but it's therapeutic to keep writing about it and I wanted to include some more detail.
I saw someone else who'd lost a baby think of it this way- on their birthdays, don't think of it as another year without them. Think of it as one year closer to being with them again. That's what I'm holding onto. One year closer to being with my baby Christian David again someday.
I don't know how I could get through this anniversary without having his 6 week old baby sister here in my arms. This year we have survived a lot of horrible things, gotten through the stress of another pregnancy, and have done a lot of healing. I pray that we can continue to heal from our great loss while at the same time find great joy in the miracle of our daughter.
February 9th, 2021
PPROM
I started feeling weird the night before. It was a pressure feeling. I thought it was either growing pains or just because I had to pee more often.
I was having a lazy morning in bed because the pressure feeling was increasing. It was starting to worry me. At 9am I rushed to the bathroom and an insane amount of liquid came out. I wanted to believe it was pee but I knew it felt different.
I went back to bed to Google what your water breaking felt like. A minute later I was running back to the bathroom and there was so much more. At that point I knew 100% that this wasn't normal. I started to panic.
I called the OB phone number. I was on hold for about 30 minutes while I sobbed. When I finally got through, they told me to come to the ER. I had to go break the news to my husband who was working from home and in a meeting. I'll never forget the look on his face.
We drove to the hospital in silence. I was Googling if babies at 21 weeks could survive water breaking. It didn't look good but we weren't sure.
My doctor met me in the L&D triage room. She did a swab to test for amniotic fluid, as well as an ultrasound. She could see there was zero fluid left, but my little son was wiggling away and had a strong heartbeat.
I was told it was a "one in a million" chance that he would survive. A neonatologist came to talk to us about what it would be like to have a baby that early.
We were told that before 22 weeks, there is no treatment/resuscitation. Between 22-24 weeks, it is the parent's choice to attempt life saving measures or let the baby pass away. At 24 weeks, the hospital is legally required to attempt life saving measures. At all of these very early gestations, there is not only a high chance the baby won't make it, but also a high chance of the baby ending up with lifelong disabilities.
We were only a few days away from 22 weeks. I was just trying to process what had happened, and now I was being told we had to start deciding now if we wanted to try to save his life if we made it to 22 weeks. A high-risk OB then came in and told me I could go to a different state (Illinois) if I preferred to have him murdered immediately. The reasoning was that if I made it to 24 weeks, I could "get stuck" with a child with disabilities if he survived.
I couldn't believe they said that to me when they knew it had taken me 4 years and multiple rounds of IVF to get pregnant.
I was also given the choice to induce labor right away because there is a risk of infection when your water breaks. I thought that was ridiculous as well considering I didn't have an infection yet, had just seen my baby alive on the ultrasound, and there was a tiny chance he could make it. Why would I guarantee his death?
We were in the hospital for a few hours and the whole time I never stopped crying or rushing to the bathroom every few minutes for more fluid to come out. We went home with instructions to watch for signs of labor or infection. When I walked in the door I started gushing blood.
It soaked through my pad, underwear, dress, leggings, and the towel I was already holding between my legs to drip on the floor. I had never seen so much blood; it was terrifying. I went to the bathroom and when the bleeding didn't stop for almost an hour (I couldn't even leave the bathroom that whole time it was so much), we called the doctor and decided to go back in.
It slowed down by the time we got there, but she checked me and could see I was 1cm dilated. I hadn't been dilated at all that morning. It looked like things were starting to happen. I was told to come back to the hospital if I had any contractions. My doctor said that if labor didn't start in the next 24 hours, there was a small chance I could stay pregnant for a little while. We went home and the waiting began.
February 10th, 2021
"I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat."
I woke up surprised to have not gone into labor the day after experiencing PPROM. No cramps, no more bleeding. I even felt my baby move. Although I had a gut feeling it wouldn't work out, I let myself feel a tiny spark of hope.
My OB consulted with another high-risk doctor, who thought that if I wanted to try to continue the pregnancy, I should come into the hospital to get 48 hours of IV antibiotics. If I managed to stay pregnant, the plan was to do that, come home for the weekend, and then be admitted to the hospital long-term for bedrest when I hit 22 weeks.
I packed an overnight bag and my mom drove me to the hospital. David would have come with me, but since we didn't think anything was happening imminently we decided he should work. My mom didn't come inside with me because of Covid rules- you were only allowed one visitor and we weren't sure if they would let David visit me later if my mom came then.
They wheeled me up to the antepartum unit and spent a while checking me in, getting settled, etc. Before starting the IV the nurse brought in the doppler. It was quiet for a few minutes. I wasn't worried yet. Despite all that had happened I didn't think he would have died.
I knew there was a very good chance he would die from being born too early. No one told me to expect that he might die inside of me.
But then I could tell the nurse started looking concerned. A doctor came in with an ultrasound machine. My baby was completely still. "I'm sorry, I don't see a heartbeat. I need another doctor to come confirm."
The attending doctor came in and saw the same thing. I managed to hold back the tears until that moment, when all hope was gone.
Within a few minutes, I was left there alone to have to call my husband and tell him he wasn't going to be a dad and my parents to tell them they weren't going to be grandparents (at least not to an earthside baby).
4 years of trying to get pregnant, 2 rounds of IVF, 175 shots, tens of thousands of dollars, 5 months of nausea so awful I had to quit my job... it had all been for nothing. I was more than happy and willing to sacrifice all of those things and more if they could have brought me my baby. But on top of losing my precious child, it stung so much that I had gone through those things and all they brought me was more heartbreak.
They waited for David to get there to bring me to the Labor and Delivery ward to start my induction.
February 11th, 2021
My son's birthday
After a few hours of waiting, they gave me Cytotec at 8pm to start the induction process. I felt terrified and completely mentally unprepared to go through labor. How could I get through this when instead of the reward of a living baby at the end... I had to confront meeting my much wanted dead son?
An hour later I was feeling cramping. A few hours later I had some IV pain meds and we turned the lights off to try to sleep. At that point the contractions went from uncomfortable to painful and I asked for an epidural. There was no sleep.
By the time it was placed, I was in a ton of pain. 20 minutes later it was clear it was only working on one side. They fiddled around with it and eventually completely redid it. The process took about an hour but felt much longer due to the horrible pain. 20 minutes after the second epidural I was completely numb. I cried in relief because I had been so scared to actually feel the birth; I wanted to be able to ignore what was happening. Thank God it worked out that way, because I don't think I could have handled it otherwise.
We were both exhausted and fell dead asleep for an hour or two after that. Someone came in to check me and I was shocked when they said I was at 10cm and ready to deliver. I honestly thought they were joking because when I was last checked I was only 1cm. I guess that's something that happens commonly with preterm deliveries.
A few more people came in the room. They kept most of the lights off. It was completely silent. I kept my eyes closed and tried to pretend I wasn't there. I didn't feel anyone touching me or my baby being born- I felt absolutely nothing.
Christian David was born at 3:02am, weighing just over 1 pound and measuring 11.5 inches.
They brought him to us dressed in tiny clothes and wrapped in a blanket. It was the strangest mix of emotions when I held him. You know that rush of love you feel when your baby is born? You still feel it when they're born dead. I felt all of this love and almost happiness to hold him at the same time as feeling utterly devastated and wishing with all of my heart that he was alive.
We held him for maybe an hour and took some pictures. They took him away and a few hours later we asked that they bring him back so we could say our final goodbyes. We cuddled him and told him we loved him.
We were itching to get out of the hospital and were able to go home around midday. We walked out of holding a memory box instead of our son and prayed to not see any babies on our way out.
One year ago today, our son was born.
It was terrifying and traumatizing. I love my baby so much
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