When a baby dies, we are fragmented. Shattered, we must pick up the pieces and put them back together as we pay tribute to our children, our tables forever missing one, our families incomplete, our treasures in heaven, our babies alive only in our hearts.
It is through our stories that they live forever. These children were here and they mattered. They were loved.
They are loved.
I saw your pajamas last night.
No, they weren’t the exact ones, of course. I returned yours to the store, along with your bassinet and baby blankets.
These were the same though, your pattern. The ones I picked out to match your nursery. Bright teal, with lime green, hot pink, and bright purple flowers. And panda bears. Lots of pandas.
I showed them to Ian, tried to brush off the longing for you, and made some lighthearted comment. He could tell it upset me, though.
It’s been three years today, October 12. One would think it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Or that I would have tried to heal by having another baby by now. They’re wrong.
It does still hurt. In the lonely nights, when I feel the ghost of your movements, deep in my belly. In the unguarded moments when I let myself watch the baby shows on TLC. When I pass by someone pregnant, and I find myself passing a hand over my empty tummy.
I would have loved to have another baby by now, but it felt a betrayal of you. How could I insist that I missed you when I was holding a new child? Who would believe that there was a hole in my heart bearing your name when they heard my happiness over this new baby?
Is it wrong of me then, that I do crave to hold another baby in my arms?
I’ve given myself time, and I continue to mourn you. But I still have so much love to give. And Ian wants a baby. I want to give him this gift, to share this part of our future together. A part of me still feels I’m forsaking you to do so.
So tell me, my sweet Bella, what am I to do?
How long am I to go on missing the sound of your heartbeat, the feel of your somersaults?
How long before it’s “acceptable” for me to want another child?
How long before I can say your name and not feel the tears in the back of my throat?
And when all these things pass?
How am I to go on living with myself?
You are invited to add your child’s name to our wall of remembrance.
A person’s a person,
no matter how small”
– Dr Seuss
Today, October 15, 2019, we pause to remember the stars of our soul that were extinguished far too early.
To the parents who are missing their babies today and always, The Band sends our love and prayers.
To our babies, the babies who never got to experience the joys of Earth, whose lives were cut very short, we miss you.
We miss you. More than anyone can ever know. We wish we could have one more moment – one single moment – with you, as we can’t have a lifetime.
Today, we honor the short lives of some of the brightest souls, souls that have touched many and have taught us to cherish all of life’s moments.
To our babies who we carry in our hearts, instead of our arms, we will never forget you.
Band Back Together’s Wall of Remembrance:
- Mary Katerina, miscarriage March 13, 2008.
- September 23, 2010, miscarriage.
Amanda and John’s Babies:
- Juliana, July 2008, miscarriage.
- Charlie, November 2009, miscarriage.
- Samantha, March 2010, miscarriage.
- Her 3 Littles, December 23, 2010, missed miscarriage/June 2011, miscarriage/December 6, 2011, Autosomal Recessive Polycysitic Kidney Disease
Another Becky’s Baby:
- Baby Savu, August 2004 missed miscarriage between 3rd and 4th month.
- Baby Garrett, September 13 2012, Miscarriage
Aunt Becky’s Babies:
- February, 2008, Baby 1, miscarriage.
- March, 2008, Baby 2, miscarriage.
- August 2017 ,Tuesday, miscarriage
- February 15, 2000, miscarriage.
- Pregnant October 2011, unpregnant January 2012, ectopic pregnancy.
- July 15, 2008, miscarriage.
- June 13, 2005, miscarriage.
Baby Noah Walter
- January 2012, miscarriage.
- Malcolm, January 2008, miscarriage.
- Ophelia, April 2009, miscarriage.
- Caden, miscarriage, May 1989.
- Aubrey, miscarriage, December 1993.
- Kaycie, miscarriage, 6/14/2011.
- Baby Jones #1, February 2007, miscarriage at 12 weeks due to blighted ovum (Empty Gestational Sac).
- Michelle, November 1991, miscarriage
- 2 babies, miscarried in 1994 and 1999.
Elsie’s Ten Possibilities:
- Nine Embies, 2008
- Lola, 2011
- Baby 1, September 2006, miscarriage.
- Baby 2, January 2007, miscarriage.
- Baby Girl 1, December 2008, late miscarriage.
- Baby Girl 2, August 17, 2009, born still at 18 weeks.
- March 2005, miscarriage at 13 weeks.
- Biscuit, July 18, 2012, miscarriage.
- Unnamed baby, 6w1d, September 18, 2010, miscarriage.
- Unnamed baby, 6w2d, June 22, 2011, miscarriage.
- Unnamed baby, 5w, August 15, 2011, miscarriage.
- Pregnant in December, 2007. Unpregnant by February, 2008.
- Forget Me Not #1, February 2009, miscarriage.
- Forget Me Not #2, January 2012, miscarriage.
- Baby M, September 10, 2011, miscarriage.
- Stella, February 13, 2011, miscarriage.
- June 8, 2008, early miscarriage.
- November 2007, early miscarriage
- November 2011, early miscarriage
Justine and Boo’s Baby:
Kallay and Ryan’s Baby:
- Baby C lost to a partial miscarriage, May 17, 2010. Baby C is survived by twin sisters, Lily and Molly who were born on December 7, 2010.
- Mari Elizabeth, September 2003, miscarriage
- Noah Douglas, October 2004, miscarriage.
- Twin Angels, July 2006, miscarriages.
- Rebecca, June 3, 1995, miscarriage.
- Baby Sluiter A, April 2007, miscarriage.
- Baby Sluiter B, May 2008, miscarriage.
- Baby 1, September 2009, miscarriage.
- Baby 2, May 2010, miscarriage.
- Lola, October 9, 2012, miscarriage.
Kelly and Brad’s daughter:
- Lily Catherine, February 18, 2010, miscarriage.
- Baby 1, April 2003, miscarriage.
- Baby 2, October 2004, miscarriage.
- Baby 3, February 2006, miscarriage.
Kendra Pocock’s Baby:
- Baby JJ Pocock, July 13 2012, Miscarriage/Ectopic Pregnancy
- Baby, October 1996, miscarriage.
- Baby One, son late term miscarriage at 15 weeks.
- Baby Two, second-trimester miscarriage at 14 weeks.
- Baby Three: miscarriage, 11 weeks.
- Baby Four: miscarriage, 13 weeks
- Baby Five, late miscarriage, 16 weeks.
- Eva, miscarriage
- 7 other babies lost through miscarriage due to luteal phase disorder and clotting disorder.
L. Moses’ Baby:
- Baby Moses, July 17, 2008, ectopic pregnancy
Lara and Brandon’s Son:
Lauren C’s Angels:
- Baby, August 27, 2007, miscarriage.
- Baby Boy, January 13, 2011, miscarriage.
- Baby May 9, 2011, miscarriage.
- Cameron, born and died May 22, 2009 at 10 weeks.
- Jeremiah Oliver and Jillian Olivia, twin babies. Second trimester loss July 9, 2010 and July 14, 2010 respectively.
- July 1994, ectopic pregnancy resulting in emergency surgery.
- Natasha Anastasia, September 7, 2011, miscarriage.
- Baby B #3, September 1, 2011, miscarriage at 5 weeks.
Marlowe Corrine, September 19, 2006, early miscarriage.
- June 11, 2011, miscarriage
- Baby Angel, February 8, 1998, blighted ovum/miscarriage
- Albert Eugene, October 31, 2000, miscarriage
Mindy’s Three Angels:
- Angel One, September 9, 2005, miscarriage.
- Angel Two, July 17, 2007, miscarriage.
- Angel Three, September 25, 2010, miscarriage.
- Peanut, August 7, 2011, miscarriage.
- Baby One, February 2, 2011, miscarriage.
- Hosanna Joy, June 18, 2011, early miscarriage.
- Cody Ryan-Price Grodan, February 14, 2012, miscarriage, 12 weeks.
Nicole and Jake’s baby:
- Baby One, September 19, 2011, miscarriage.
Rachel and Jesse:
- Babies due Aug 2008 and November 2010. Both lost to miscarriage.
- Alivia Mason, March 21, 2012, miscarriage.
- First Angel April, 2013, miscarriage
- Second Angel July 2013 miscarriage
- Isaac Ephraim, miscarriage August 2006.
- Isaiah Jeremiah, miscarriage January 2007.
- Ella Alicea, ectopic pregnancy June 2009.
- September 2006, miscarriage.
- April 12, 2002, miscarriage.
- September 3, 2008, miscarriage.
- Baby Bun Bun, April 2017, miscarriage
- Baby #3, June 2000, miscarriage from a blighted ovum.
- Athena Rose Moore, Girl Twin B
- Grace, 10/29/2001, miscarriage
- October 1990, miscarriage.
- September, 2002, miscarriage
- July 17, miscarriage
- September 25. miscarriages.
- 2008, Little Soul 1, 2008, ectopic pregnancy.
- 2009, Little Soul 2, 2009, ectopic pregnancy.
- Sean Michael, April 14, 1987, miscarriage.
- Nolan “Shepherd,” stillborn at 17 weeks on September 15, 2009.
- Madeleine Rose, stillborn July 7, 2009 due to incompetent cervix and uterine infection.
- Orion, stillborn May 8, 2004
- Benjamin, September 4, 2012, stillbirth.
- Bella Rose, stillborn on September 9, 2009.
- Emerson Allen Behrends, July 10, 2001, stillborn.
- Jonathan Edward, June 4, 1992, stillborn.
Debbie And Jeff’s Daughter:
- Chloe Eva, September 12, 2008, stillbirth.
Heather and David’s Daughter:
- Clara Edith, July 1, 2012, Stillbirth at 42 weeks, 3 days due to meconium aspiration and uterine infection.
Jill and Mark’s Baby:
- Haven, November 26, 2003, stillborn at 38 weeks gestation
- Ruth, January 3, 2013, stillbirth
- Cullen Liam, born still September 11, 2010.
Lilla and Gareth’s daughter:
- Pippa, born still on February 13, 2011 from listeria infection.
- Stillborn, born still 2017
- Kaitlyn Grace, stillborn, born still, May 13, 1995.
Louise and Joseph’s Baby:
- Alice Mathelin, born still on February 25, 2011, at 36 weeks and 5 days from Abruptio Placentae
Martha’s Twin Boys:
- Owen died March 8, 2008 because his cord wasn’t properly attached to the placenta.
- Joshua died one month later, April 6, 2008 because he couldn’t live without his brother. Both were born still on April 8, 2008.
- Summer Lily, born still March 30, 2011.
- Jordan Ala, stillborn on November 13, 2006.
- Nicholas Aaron and Nathan Alexander, June 9, 2000, stillbirth
- Sam, 1997, intrauterine fetal demise
- Audrey Elizabeth, August 7, 1998, born still.
Selah Mae: born January 22, 2002, stillborn.
- Carter Austin Ross, March 18, 2006, stillbirth due to an umbilical cord anomaly.
- Isabella-Rose Elizabeth, October 12, 2009, stillbirth.
Amy and James’s Babies:
- Jacob Bennett born and died on July 11, 2007 due to premature rupture of membranes (PROM).
- Samantha Lauren born August 16, 2011 at 23.5 weeks passed away September 17th due to extreme prematurity and fungal meningitis.
Baby Helen: Born July, 1993. Passed from prematurity.
- Christopher Robin Cote: Born September 25, 2009. Stillborn due to premature rupture of membranes and incompetent cervix.
- Emily, prematurity born 19w 5 days – was too small for the equipment.
- Jellybean, born at 5:20 April 15th, 2009; and passed just four short hours later in her arms.
Heather and Aaron’s Son:
- Aodin R. Hurd, October 7, 2007, born still due to premature rupture of the membranes.
- Kevin William, prematurity, 2005
- Baby S, March 2008, Miscarriage
- Evie, December 14, 2009, Triplet Prematurity
- Jack, December 22, 2009, Triplet Stillbirth due to Prematurity
- Will, January 13, 2010, Triplet Prematurity
- Baby M, May 2010, Miscarriage
Kristin’s Baby (Mama KK):
- Ariel Grace, born on July 28, 2009 at 18 weeks 5 days. Lived 5 minutes.
- Ayla and Juliet, October 20, 2009 at 20 weeks.
- Bayli and Thomas on June 8, 2011 at 21 weeks 2 days.
Matthew Chase Sims:
- April 25th, 2006 due to prematurity.
- Born at 21 weeks in June 2011 due to a bacterial infection, lived for 30 minutes.
- Samuel, August 8, 2001, prematurity.
- Coleman Parker Garibay, September 14, 2005, lost at 6 months gestation and passed from prematurity.
- Reya, September 18 2011, Prematurity due to extreme Pre-eclempsia
- Mikel Azariah and Willamina Azaria born August 12, 2019.
- Mikel was stillborn,
- Willamina was premature at 22 weeks 6 days
S & T’s Son:
- William, November 2, 2013, 24 weeks, 3 days, prematurity
Collin, complications from prematurity, 2009
- Erik Richard, July 29, 1981, prematurity.
Aaron and Kristine’s Son:
- Luke Ervin Seitz, born July 21, 2011 with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, and passed on June 28, 2011.
- Mateo, Anthony, and Ian born on May 6, 2008 at 23 weeks and 3 days.
- Mateo was born still.
- Anthony passed away from Transposition of the Great Vessels.
- Ian passed away after a short stay in the NICU.
- Nathaniel James, August 24, 2001 – August 29, 2001, Citrullinemia
- David Henry, May 11, 2010 – January 24, 2011, Citrullinemia, passed away after becoming sick post liver transplant
Baby Khalil, born August 14, 2009, stillborn, born still from birth defects.
- Kyle William Kober July 22, 1994 due to Hypoplastic left ventricle syndrome
- Ethan Connor Brockwell, May 3, 2006 – August 17, 2006. Born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome.
Christopher: November 4, 1979, due to pulmonary atresia, a congenital heart defect.
- Aidan, born with brain malformation on December 16, 2008 and passed on December 19, 2008.
Cora Mae McCormick:
- November 30, 2009 to December 6, 2009 from a congenital heart defect.
- Shane Michael, born October 10, 1971 and died October 11, 1971 from heart complications before his mother could wake from anesthesia. She never saw or held him.
- Brianna Elizabeth, born January 29, 1998 and died March 7, 1998 from a heart defect.
- Seth Douglas Bonnett, Our Little “Tough guy”, March 27, 2008 – October 12, 2008. Died from Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome.
- Austin Skylar Gregory, born July 3, 2005 and gained his wings August 29, 2005 from Multiple Complex Congenital Heart Defects.
- Corbin Walker, born February 20, 2011 and died May 17, 2011 from heart defects brought on by Williams Syndrome.
- Chloe Walker, born November 29, 2000 and died June 4, 2001 from multiple congenital heart defects and heterotaxy.
- Starbaby, born still February 2008 due to Trisomy 18.
- Matthew Connor – February 26, 2005, born at 26 weeks, passed from Necrotizing Enterocolitis (NEC).
- Reed Allyvion Miners, passed away July 5th 2003 at one hour old from Primary Myocardial Disease, a congenital heart defect.
- Nathaniel, born August 24, 2001 and died August 29, 2001 from an undiagnosed metabolic disorder.
- David, born May 11, 2010 and Died January 24, 2011 from a myriad of complications resulting from a liver transplant.
- Leia Sky Williams, born October 6, 2011, passed away from Group Beta Strep.
Baby Kash Michael:
- Born June 3, 2011 and died September 28, 2011.
Carey’s Triplet Sons:
- Rudyard, Desmond, and Oscar, June 4th, 2011, born at 22 weeks due to of E. coli infection.
- Nicholas and Zachary, October 27th, 2004.
Heather and Joe’s Twins:
- Jonathan Michael and Samuel Joseph, identical twins born alive and died on May 6, 2004 from extreme prematurity and twin-to-twin transfusion.
- Charlie: Born May 21, 2003 and died June 14, 2003 from late-onset Group B Strep.
- Will, born (today) October 15, 2002 and died on September 16, 2003 from complications of late-onset Group B Strep.
- Malakai Zachary born still March 10, 2007 due to Anencephaly.
- Five more angels, July, 2007 – May, 2010. Miscarriages.
- Catherine Grace, born August 10, 2012, passed August 12, 2012, due to prematurity brought on by HELLP syndrome.
- Kaitlyn Grace, born sleeping at 38 weeks on Saturday, May 13th, 1995. Died from a true knot in her umbilical cord.
Matt and Lauren’s Baby:
- Isla, born 14 weeks premature on August 23, 2011 and died on October 10, 2011.
- Mina Kathryn, born February 18, 2009, died February 24, 2009, due to complications with her PICC line.
- Baby R, May 24, 1998, Medicine Administration by RN who didn’t know or ask.
- Matthew Conner Webb, born January 11, 2005 and died February 26, 2005. He was born at 26 weeks and faced many obstacles in his short life.
- Ziggy Ann born sleeping on January 21, 2009.
- Frank born sleeping May 21, 2010.
- Liberty Ann born March 30, 2011 and died on April 19, 2011.
Ally’s Son: Collin
- Collin: born on August 9th, 2008. He passed away 30 minutes later from cardiac arrest after an emergency c-section due to a placental abruption.
- Nicholas, born December 14, 2005, died April 19, 2006 from SIDS.
- Max Corrigan, born November 14, 1987 and relinquished to adoption on November 18, 1987.
- Brianna Ann 3/19/2018, car accident – donated the gift of life to 5 people through organ donation
- Bryce Philip born May 26, 2009 and died September 1, 2009 due to SIDS
- Ashton Karol, stillborn on February 24, 2010 at 17 weeks.
- Addison Leah, June 13, 2008, accidental death.
Jessica and Mark’s Daughter:
- Hadley Jane, born October 9, 2001 and died October 11, 2007.
- Halsey Douglas Dukes December 31, 2016, Halsey passed from hemophaygocytic lymphohistiocytosis (HLH)
- Halcyon Grayson Dukes was born September 1, 2011 Halcyon failed to develop after 9 weeks
- Jake, born August 14, 2005 died August 27, 2005 due to prematurity and hydrops.
- Sawyer, born November 17, 2009 died December 26, 2009. His cause of death has not been determined because he is part of a study at the Mayo clinic for heart arrhythmias – SIUDS (unexplained sudden infant death)
- Cullen, September 11, 2010, stillbirth.
- Brian Vitale, accidental death, September 4, 2007 – June 3, 2010. We miss him more and more each day.
- Patrick, born April 10, 1977, Adoption
- Sophia Lu Boudreau, born December 21, 2006 and died October 9, 2007 from SIDS.
Rebecca and TJ’s son:
- Rafe Theobald Calvert, born on October 11th, 2009 at 26 weeks. Spent 3 months in the NICU and underwent an intestinal obstruction repair. He was released on January 11th, 2010 and we brought him home for 6 weeks. He passed away at 4 and a half months old from SIDS on February 25th, 2010.
The Stamm’s Daughter:
- Adrienne Mae, May 7, 2006, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
- Nathan Michael King, died from SIDS November 2008.
- Kendra, April 23, 2005 to March 24, 2006. Died from Jacobsen Syndrome.
Chance, July 25, 2014, homicide
On October 15, 2019, we will be publishing a Wall of Remembrance for those among us who have lost our babies far too soon.
You are invited to share the names of your lost babies here.
I have had 10 miscarriages – just saying that is hard for me
For so long I have tried to sweep it under the rug – once my number became larger then three I became numb to it all. I’m not really an emotional person, but this topic always brings up memories as if it all happened yesterday.
I have been through 10 miscarriages in 6 years.
I am 28 years old – I have been pregnant 13 times – and have 3 living children.
I can be a very private person, but I think miscarriage and infertility have enough secrecy surrounding it that I do not want to perpetuate it. The more it is talked about – the more women and families can feel supported and listened to and important – not embarrassed and ashamed like I am struggling to not feel. I am opening up the door to talk about it – so here is my long story:
My first two miscarriages were kind of a blur to me. We were not trying to get pregnant and basically found out we were expecting the same time we realized we were miscarrying. I had always heard that having one miscarriage was ‘normal’ and so I honestly didn’t put too much thought into it. They were still very painful and devastating to me but I thought once we were actively trying everything would be OK – that no one would have more then 2.
My husband and I decided to start trying for a family and we actively began trying to conceive using basal body temping as a guide. We became pregnant again in November 2004 after the first month of trying. I was about 6 weeks pregnant just around Christmas when I miscarried (#3). This time it hit me – hard. I mean I have never heard of someone who has had 3 miscarriages ever – let alone in a row.
|Basal Body Temperature Chart using Fertility Friend
I began feverishly doing my research.
With my basal body charts I had noticed that my luteal phase was under 10 days (according to research the shortest it should be for a successful pregnancy) so I began to take vitamins B6 and B12 to lengthen it. I went to the doctor and his thought was that my progesterone was low and that is why I was not able to hold on to the pregnancy past 6 weeks. So a new plan evolved. I would stay on the vitamins and go on a progesterone supplement the moment I found out I was pregnant. This made the basal body temping so important – I needed to know the exact date.
We began another month of trying to conceive (TTC). Thermometer in hand and a plan in mind we became pregnant again in June and I was on the progesterone medication. The plan was to stay on until 12 weeks pregnant and then to slowly wean myself off. When 12 weeks came along we lowered the dose of progesterone but I began to bleed so we quickly went back onto the medication. The baby was doing fine and the new plan was to wean off at 20 weeks. 20 weeks came and I was successfully weaned off with no further complications. I had my first full term baby (Big P) in December 2005 – a healthy boy.
|Big P – 8lbs 1oz
My husband and I had always wanted to have our kids close in age, so we starting TTC again relatively quickly. I began the basal body temping again and got pregnant pretty quickly. When I got the positive I went to the doctor to get a prescription for the progesterone and started taking it again. I miscarried #4 shortly after 7 weeks. My doctor and I both thought it was because the progesterone was not started soon enough so I was given a prescription for the next time to begin the day I had a positive test. I got pregnant again and started the progesterone but miscarried #5 at 6 weeks 5 days and I was starting to lose hope. I went back on the vitamins and we began TTC again. Thinking back it probably would have been better to give myself a few months to heal physically and emotionally but I was determined and had the okay from my doctor.
In July 2006 we got pregnant again and everything was going smoothly. I was on the progesterone and we had an ultrasound that showed the heartbeat and the baby was growing. I was on bed rest again for the first 20 weeks and was weaned off the progesterone at 20 weeks. Everything was going smoothly. At 8 months pregnant I awoke with vertigo – fell and cracked my wrist. I was taken to the hospital and without going into too much detail I was diagnosed with possible stroke and they ran a large amount of tests and I was hospitalized.
In one of those tests they discovered I had a blood disorder called Factor V Leiden. Everything was going relatively smoothly with the pregnancy. I was having some weight issues – having only gained 10lbs and was 8 months pregnant they were checking to see if the baby was growing -which she was. I was being induced just over 2 weeks early because of the vertigo and possible stroke. Our healthy baby girl (Princess R) was born in February 2007.
|Princess R – 7lbs 14oz
This is where the story starts to get a bit crazy. I had 2 more miscarriages (#6 & 7) due to failed birth control. We were not trying to have an other baby yet – however these losses were still quite painful.
In May 2007 I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease and was on a strict gluten free diet. We had wondered if that was an underlying cause contributing to the miscarriages and we’re hopeful that was the answer. I still had the constant vertigo that started in January 2007 and was seeing a neurologist for possible causes. During one of our meetings she mentioned Factor V Leiden again. That was the first time I had heard of it since back when I was pregnant with Princess R. The neurologist thought that could be the cause of my possible stroke when I was pregnant. I was sent to other specialists for that.
My husband and I were ready to expand our family again. I went off birth control in the beginning December 2007 and we began TTC again. I became pregnant the first month but lost miscarriage # 8 at just over 5 weeks. We didn’t take any breaks between that loss and trying to conceive again and we became pregnant again the next cycle at the beginning of January.
I was back on the progesterone and everything was seemingly going okay – baby was perfect. We had made it past 8 weeks of pregnancy and thought everything was going to go smoothly. We had told extended family and friends and had begun taking daily photos of my growing belly – our kids were excited.
|Big P and Princess R telling the family about the growing baby
A phone call came to me a few weeks later that shattered me. The baby (Triton) that had made it to 13 weeks was “no longer viable” and he had passed away (miscarriage # 9). I was confused – I had done everything ‘right’ – I was on the progesterone, was on bed rest – everything. I was scheduled for a D&C because I did not want to deliver at home.
The OB who was going to be doing the surgery turned out to be a lifesaver to me. Another miracle that Triton brought into my life. My OB had read over my chart, talked to me for a long time about my history and pegged that I had been diagnosed with Factor V Leiden, a blood disorder that predisposes me to making blood clots.
The surgery was scheduled for April 24, 2008 and I was able to get the answer I needed. When the pathology came back it showed blood clots caught in the umbilical cord cutting off the supply to Triton. He had given me the answer and we had a new plan and a concrete diagnoses for all my losses – Factor V Leiden.
Recovering from surgery, my husband and I were not trying to conceive yet. I did become pregnant (seriously it’s like he just has to look at me to get me pregnant) the next month but miscarried again (#10) likely because I was not healed up completely from the surgery. We were both ready to start the process of adding to our family and met up with my OB again.
The new plan – because Factor V Leiden predisposes me to throwing blood clots normally and any pregnant woman’s risk of blood clots increase anyway – my chances were pretty high. This is the reason for my miscarriages, my possible stroke at 8 months pregnant – but luckily there was something we could do. I was still going to be on the progesterone for 20 weeks because I did have an issue with low progesterone – it was just not the whole story.
I continued with the basal body temping and this time added low dose aspirin (it’s a blood thinner). Once I got that positive pregnancy test – I went on the progesterone and was put on another medication called Fragmin. This medication is a needle that I inject into my lower abdomen – it is a blood thinner that is safe to take while pregnant. This medication was designed to thin my blood enough to stop me from making clots and putting me and baby at risk for miscarriage or still birth.
I injected myself with this needle every day – I was covered in bruises but everything was working. It became second nature to me. Since it is not safe to go into labor while on blood thinners I was placed on bed rest at 36 weeks because I had begun to dilate. The plan was to induce me again just over 2 weeks early – I had to be off the blood thinner to deliver but could not go over 12 hours without the medication or I would risk another stroke. So, the safest thing to do was a planned early induction.
In February 2009 our third full term baby (Baby E) was born perfect and healthy. I was put back on the Fragmin blood thinners and had to continue giving myself the injections for 8 weeks postpartum.
|Baby E – 7lbs 13oz
Now, if you are still with me – thank you. It is hard to condense this story into a few paragraphs. I don’t really have a ‘moral’ or ‘message’ to this story except this is my story. It has been a very difficult and extremely painful journey.
It has taken me a long time (and I am still working on it) to accept what has happened and to begin to digest it all.
The creation of human life is one of the most complex and shockingly beautiful things that our bodies are designed to do. The microanatomy that goes into this task is so astonishingly complicated that it’s a miracle any of us walk around at all. And yet, most of us do. Most…but not all.
When a baby dies, we are fragmented. Shattered, we must pick up the pieces and put them back together as we pay tribute to our children, our tables forever missing one, our families incomplete, our treasures in heaven, our babies alive only in our hearts.
It is through our stories that they live forever. These children were here and they mattered. They were loved. They are loved.
There are many, many difficult things about a stillbirth. First and foremost, a child is lost. Every pregnancy revolves around planning. You plan your due date, your delivery method, your parenting style, and your hopes for your baby’s future. The second that heart stops beating, you lose it all. What makes a stillbirth loss distinctive is that your baby never takes a breath. There’s no birth certificate and no death certificate. There’s no legal proof your baby ever existed. You pay for the delivery but you get no tax deduction. The world moves on as if your baby never was. For the person who carried the child, it was very real. Your dreams and hopes were real, the baby’s movement was real, your baby was real. The majority of the rest of the world, however, would just as soon forget it ever happened.
The simplest question becomes complicated. How many children do you have? I feel guilty if I don’t mention my son, but I know the other person really doesn’t want to hear about my deceased child. They were just asking what they thought was a innocent question.
I will never forget my son. This blog is my attempt to remind a tiny portion of the rest of the world that he existed. It is also intended to help anyone who might be going through a similar experience. Stillbirth is something that is not talked about. No one even tells you it is a possibility. It is not listed on the doctor’s agenda of things to warn you of when you become pregnant. And yet it happens to many, many people. In most situations, it cannot be prevented. There are no warning signs and no group of people to whom it is more likely to happen. The only thing we can do is increase awareness so the world will be more empathetic and will acknowledge the existence of all our children.
When I woke up that morning, I didn’t know that I had already heard my son’s heartbeat for the last time. It was just a typical day. We got everyone up and dressed for work and daycare. I was working for half a day since my maternity leave began at 12. I gave myself a day and a half before our scheduled C-Section to get just a little rest before all the fun began. I was nervous, excited, and scared for the child within me to be introduced to the world.
We had found out at the 20 week anatomy scan that our son had a heart defect and a 50/50 probability of Down Syndrome. James and I had celebrated the discovery that we were finally having a boy and then suddenly we were mourning his health and prognosis. We cried, sought spiritual guidance, commiserated over the unfairness of the world, hoped for the best, and planned for the worst. Many, many ultrasounds and visits to a pediatric heart specialist were endured to try to figure out when we were going to have to tackle the heart surgery. We were hopefully expecting for him to be stable upon delivery and make it to 6 months before surgery was needed.
In due time, we came to accept our son, however he would be presented to us. We loved him, and while we were very excited to meet him, we were extraordinarily apprehensive, as well. We named him Declan Raiden and anxiously awaited his arrival.
I finished up loose ends at work and went to a last lunch with all my co-workers. After ordering our food, I realized I hadn’t felt the baby move in a while. I had been at the doctor the day before for my last non-stress test to monitor the heart rate. It wasn’t reacting enough and the nurse brought me a Mt. Dew and monitored me for another 20 minutes. After that, the doctor read the scan and stated that the heart was reacting appropriately and we confirmed my C-Section date for two days later. I wasn’t too concerned the next day at lunch. I poked him a few times and joked about him being lazy and running out of room. I ordered a Mt. Dew, poked him a few more times and waited for him to kick me. I mentioned to the others that I couldn’t remember feeling him move all morning. My co-worker, Lisa, called her mother who is an OB nurse and they suggested I go to the doctor’s office and have them check the baby, just for peace of mind.
I texted James and told him I was going by the doctor to see if they would do a quick doppler so I could check the heartbeat since I hadn’t felt him move. When I walked up to the counter at the OB’s office, I actually felt a little silly. After a quick explanation of why I was there, the receptionist spoke with the doctor who agreed to the doppler. The hallway seemed very long as we approached the room. I sat down and lifted my shirt. The baby had still not moved and my heart was in my throat, beating so hard I thought it was going to be hard to hear the baby’s heart beating over my own. The cold ultrasound juice was squeezed onto my enormously pregnant belly and the tech pulled out the wand.
I knew. After about 3 seconds, I knew. Anyone who has had a doppler that late into a pregnancy knows you hear the heartbeat almost instantly. I heard silence. The tech started moving the wand around in a futile search. “Oh God,” I moaned, “No, no, no, God please no.” She searched for a while longer as I put my fists over my eyes and groaned. The tech said, “Maybe he’s lying on his side and I just can’t find it.” But even she knew she was lying. You could see the shock in her face as she stood quietly and told me she was going to get the doctor.
The mind is a terrible thing and hope dies slowly and painfully. I waited. No one had officially told me anything and even though I knew, hope was lingering. Someone came into the room and told me to go next door to the ultrasound room. I moved like a zombie and clambered my way to the next chair I could collapse into. I raised my shirt once again and looked at the TV screen as the doctor prepared the machine. I was terrified.
The image of my son showed up immediately. He was so still. And, again, I knew. The tears began to fall even before the doctor could finish saying, “I’m so sorry, Paula, there’s no heartbeat.” I buried my face in my hands and felt the full crushing blow of what she had said. She asked if I wanted them to call my husband and I nodded. One of the nurses left to find his number in my file. The doctor put her hand on my shoulder in an ineffectual attempt to comfort me. Then, at a loss for anything to say, she left me to my mourning.
I turned over onto my side, wrapped my arms around my heavy, lifeless belly, and sobbed. There’s no use in trying to explain what I was thinking or feeling. It’s a jumble of useless emotion. My son is dead. My body somehow failed him. What did I do wrong? Was there a multi-vitamin I missed? Did I overdo it at the pumpkin patch with the girls? Why? When? How? I was lost in a fog of confusion and grief.
After an indefinable amount of time, James was escorted in the room and the door shut behind him. I sat up and looked at him. Thinking that the doctor had already told him, I expected to see a mirror image of my own despair, but I saw only confusion. “What is it? What’s wrong?” I realized that they hadn’t told him and, for a moment, I didn’t know how to say it. How do you tell your husband his little boy is gone?
“There’s no heartbeat.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“There’s no heartbeat. He’s gone.”
He glanced up at the screen where the last image of our son remained, and I could see the realization flow over his face. He turned to me and put his arms around me. We stayed like that for a long time, grieving together.
The doctor returned to the room to make a plan. I’ve always been a meticulous planner. This very baby was planned because I wanted him to be born on 11/11/11. I planned my schooling, my volleyball career, my marriage, my home, my job. I just never thought I’d ever have to make a plan on how to deliver my deceased baby. We were told to go to the hospital and meet with the doctor on call. As I was gathering my things, James stepped out and called my parents. He explained what happened and told them to come. They live 3 hours away. James went to work to close up his office and I drove myself home.
After James picked up our 3 and 5 year olds, his parents met us at home to watch them and we went to the hospital. We had to go to registration and start the process of explaining our situation over and over. Signing my admission paperwork, I saw the words ‘fetal demise’ for the first time.So there’s a term for this, I thought. Great.
We waited for over an hour in a delivery room. We waited in a room in which hundreds of babies had been born to parents crying tears of joy. We cried as well. We sat together on the couch and said very little. When the doctor finally arrived, he explained that it was too late to do the C-Section that day. He wanted to do it the following day when a team would be prepared. I was shocked. I didn’t realize it would be an option to wait. We were sent home.
My parents were at the house when we got there. We hugged and cried and told them what the plan was. We didn’t talk much. No one wanted to alarm the girls. So, my mom made dinner and we ate in silence. James and I went to bed early. We laid in bed facing each other, with our dead son between us. Only 24 hours earlier, we had been watching him move and James had put his hands on my stomach and talked to Declan. He had been a very active baby and I loved feeling him move. All his energy made me feel like things were going to be ok. Now, my huge belly, the symbol of a glowing pregnancy, was a harsh reminder of what had happened. I couldn’t escape it: the stillness and heavy weight of our crushed dreams. I finally fell asleep out of pure emotional exhaustion.
The next morning, we rose early and drove to the hospital. Arriving at the delivery ward, the mood was somber. I felt that everyone looking at me knew why I was there and didn’t quite know what to say. The dismal situation seemed so incongruous in a place that was meant for excitement and joy. I tried not to cry much. Our nurses were incredibly sensitive and caring but I could sense the awkwardness of the situation. I felt bad for them. This shouldn’t be part of their job.
James was in the operating room with me. He stood and watched our son being delivered, just as he had for our two daughters before him. This time, however, the distinct cry of a newborn was not heard. There were no exuberant cries of “It’s a boy!” James didn’t get to place his finger into a tiny palm and feel the strength of that first grasp. The nurses quietly took Declan from the doctor and began the process of cleaning him. My surgery was finished and we were moved into the recovery room.
They brought us our son. He was wrapped up just like any newborn in a unisex blanket and cap. The nurse placed him in my arms. He was beautiful. He looked perfect in every way. His almond shaped eyes revealed his extra chromosome but that didn’t matter anymore. I stared at him as I held him and cried. James stood next to me and after a while, took him from me to hold him. It was the first time I’d seen James break down. It was painful to see him like that. He held Declan very close to his chest and buried his face in the blanket as his body was racked with grief.
After some time, I told him to call my mom. We hadn’t been sure how Declan was going to look when he was born and we had told my parents to stay with the girls. I found that I still had that urge of a proud parent to show off my precious child and I just knew my mom had to see him. James made the call and Mom arrived just a few minutes later. I handed her my son and I could see the mixed emotion of amazement and sorrow. Our priest came to bless the baby. After he left, we all held Declan one more time. We kept him with us as long as we could, but the time was approaching when we had to say our final goodbyes.
I was the last to take him. I held his tiny hand in mine and kissed his cold forehead. I told him how sorry I was that I had failed him; that for some unknown reason, my body had been unable to deliver him kicking and screaming into this beautiful world. I love you, I whispered against his smooth cheek, and I handed him to the nurse to take away. I had never felt so empty.
The doctor came in and talked with us. He explained that he saw no definite outward sign of what had gone wrong and asked if we wanted an autopsy. We agreed to an in-house examination. We didn’t want him sent away for a full autopsy because, at that point, it just didn’t matter. No test results were going to bring him back. They moved me to a different outpatient recovery wing so I did not have to hear the crying infants on the maternity floor. James and I recovered together. I took full advantage of the morphine pump throughout the night as it dulled both my physical and emotional pain.
The following day, my parents brought the girls to see us. It was time to tell them. James and I gently explained that their brother had gone to heaven. Annika, our 3 year old, was too young to really understand. At 5, Layna grasped the gravity of the situation. She began to cry and asked why. “Why couldn’t he stay here with us, Mommy? Why did he have to die?” I had no answers for her. Her questions mirrored my own.
At the end of their visit, Layna kissed me goodbye. Then she patted my hand and said, “It’s ok, Mommy, we’ll have another baby.” She was so young and hope was so quick to return to her. For me, it took a little longer. The unimaginable had happened and it had torn a dark hole right through my perfect little world.
We were sent home after a few days. I recovered from the surgery and James began the painful journey of making the final arrangements for Declan. My milk came in a day or two later. It was excruciating, physically and emotionally. I broke down one evening and groaned through sobs that my body was making milk for a baby I couldn’t hold. It was just so heartbreaking.
We tried to keep it together for the girls. Each day was waded through in a fog of disbelief and overwhelming sadness. We talked about a gravesite and coffin, but I didn’t want to live in this town forever, and I couldn’t stand the thought of one day leaving him behind. Cremation seemed like a ‘better’ option. The day James brought our son home in a small wooden box, we held it between us, held each other, and cried.
Declan’s memorial service was held at our church. I medicated myself as much as possible and greeted each “I’m sorry” and “Let me know if you need anything” with a polite smile and “Thank you.” Once again, we said goodbye to our son.
A small piece of advice for people addressing anyone grieving the loss of a loved one: just say I’m sorry. Every time I heard “He’s in a better place” or “God had a different plan,” I was screaming to myself: his place is with ME and any other plan is WRONG. I was confused and angry. It was grossly unfair that so many people abused themselves throughout pregnancy, or didn’t even know they were pregnant, and went on to have perfectly healthy babies. I tried so hard to do everything right. I gave up sushi and hot tubs, took my vitamins every night, and attended every appointment diligently. Why wasn’t it enough? How could this have possibly happened to us? These were questions that would never be answered.
Eventually, my pain meds ran out, my ‘maternity’ leave ended, and James and I found ourselves on the road to recovery. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. It doesn’t matter how much pain is thrown at you; life has a way of carrying on. Thanksgiving came, followed by Christmas and New Year’s. I drank a lot of wine and spent many quality hours with my girls, albeit not simultaneously. We took a vacation to Williamsburg for a week in January and made new memories. We found the balance between moving on and never forgetting.
There is a rainbow at the end of this tale. During my journey of recovery, I came across the term ‘rainbow baby.’ The following is a description of it:
“It is the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it doesn’t mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy, and hope.” (Author unknown)
Our rainbow baby came one year and 20 days after we lost Declan. The beautiful Quinlyn Levay Bass was conceived in March, 2012 and, after a perfectly ordinary, drama-free (although not stress-free!) pregnancy, she was delivered via C-Section on 11/20/12. Her birth was bittersweet. I’d waited almost 2 years and 20 months of pregnancy for a baby to take home in my arms. The death of Declan scarred me, and I am constantly petrified that something is going to happen to Quinnie. Although it probably isn’t fair to her and she will most likely be in therapy 20 years from now because of it, two babies worth of love and anticipation have been showered upon her. She will always be my rainbow, kissed by her brother in heaven before being sent to us.
People say that I am strong.
I am not.
My marriage is strong. Many couples don’t make it through the loss of a child. James is as much reliable and supportive as he is sensitive and empathetic. He is a wonderful husband and we survived this together and came out the other side closer than ever.
My family is strong. I know without a doubt that my parents would drop anything, anytime we needed them. They understand that just because I don’t always show my emotions, it doesn’t mean I’m not feeling them. My mother was the only person other than me and James who held my son in her arms. She knows more certainly than I do that Declan is our guardian angel. She and my dad took care of our girls and our home while were recovering and their presence made it just a little bit easier.
But me? No, I’m not strong. What I am is present. I have three living children and a husband. I have parents, in-laws, brothers, nieces, and nephews. I have a job and a home. In other words, life goes on. I am persistently on the verge of tears and some days I feel as though I will explode with emotion. On the outside, however, I am very careful not to emote too much lest everything that is pushed down and backed up comes out with it.
I try to live each day.
I try to be present with my living children.
Everything I do in life is for them. Because, if you believe in that sort of thing (which I’d like to), my afterlife will be with my son.
Late at night, after every living creature in my house is asleep, I close my eyes and picture him. I no longer dwell on the life that could have been and I don’t focus on the things that will never happen. I know I’ll never mark his height on the wall, nor chase after him down the street as he rides his bike the first time. I’ll never stay up late worried if he’s ok and I’ll never beam with pride at his graduation.
I know this.
As selfish as this sounds, Declan was mine. I carried him for 37 weeks, nourished him, sang to him, watched him on the monitors at our numerous ultrasounds. I planned for him and worried for him and accepted him. His entire life on this earth was lived within me. He was mine and we will be together again. God can’t keep him all to Himself forever. In the quiet hours of the night, I focus on Declan and I know:
Someday, I will be with my son… Just not today…