On Thursday December 27th, I had a routine 36-week
checkup. All was well, my cervix was completely closed, and they did a routine
ultrasound, showing our healthy, beautiful boy. He was breech, sitting with his
head right up under my heart, but otherwise perfect. My doctor began making
plans for delivery by Cesarean section in 3 weeks. There was still a
possibility that he could turn, but Dr. Peppy wanted to be prepared either way
and not end up with some random doctor delivering him in an emergency. I joked
that I didn't want to share my birthday, and asked for January 17th just to
leave a full day before mine. I also joked about having to celebrate my own day
in the hospital because of my stubborn son. Such petty humor in hindsight.
That Sunday afternoon we met up with our talented
sister-in-law Carla to take maternity photos. We had pushed them back a bit, but
finally found a time that worked. It was an unseasonably hot and humid 82
degrees. I was swollen and uncomfortable. My hair was a little greasy and wouldn't
hold a curl. My makeup felt heavy and gross, and we were running late, but
despite all the frustrations, I was determined to get those photos taken! We
had procrastinated enough!
It also happened to be a year and a day after our
wedding, and we did the photo shoot in Nelson Park, adjacent to Tanner Hall
where we had our reception.
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| 12/29/2017 |
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| 12/30/2018 What a difference a year makes! |
We went to family dinner at Brett's home parents’
right after photos. As we sat and relaxed after dinner our nephew Lucien had a sweet
moment getting to know his cousin Theo. It was precious.
The next few days were a blur of everyday monotony.
As instructed, I tracked Theo's movements each day. It turns out that as a
first-time mom I was mostly counting Braxton Hicks contractions, gas, and nerve
pain. I have no idea when he actually stopped moving. In addition, everyone I had
mentioned it to had been so concerned about Theo being breech, and commented how
awful it would be to have a Cesarean birth. The funny thing is that it never
bothered me at all. All I was concerned about was a healthy baby, and knowing the
date of my delivery actually gave me an end date to plan for and look forward
to. However, I did look up a few natural methods and theories for turning a
breech baby, and tried a few yoga poses. I remember my belly feeling more loose
and squishy with my hips raised, but I attributed it to the position, not a
dead baby.
Brett had a few days off for the holidays so we had
a chill day at home on New Year's Eve, then met up for dinner with some friends
who were in town. We went to bed long before midnight, but did watch some
fireworks out our window. I was so incredibly swollen and uncomfortable that we
looked up natural remedies and I ate a bunch of bananas. The swelling magically
eased off in the next day or two, but now I don't know if it was the bananas or
the fact that Theo's blood was no longer pumping.
On Tuesday we went to a matinee of Mary Poppins.
Wednesday I mailed some late Christmas packages and Brett trained as usual.
Thursday was a busy day of appointments. We were supposed to get some electrical work done in preparation for solar panel installation the next day. Fortunately, there was a conflict and they rescheduled the whole thing for the next week. Fortunate because, as it turned out, that week week we had much more important things to worry about. That was the day our lives
changed forever.
I went to the chiropractor first, then rushed off
to make it to my OB appointment on time. For some reason the wait times in both
offices were abnormally long that day. It was nearing the end of their business
day when I finally got in to see my doctor. I changed, he came in and starting
talking through plans for the C-section in two weeks. It would be in the
evening, we'd check in after Brett got off work, blah blah blah... Everything
was casual. Then he pulled out the Doppler, and checked for Theo's heartbeat -
which had always been strong, consistent, and captured the second the Doppler
touched my belly. But this time, there was no sound. Dr. Peppy moved it around
a bit and said maybe the baby had flipped. But I knew he hadn't and began to
realize something was off. I could still feel his head right below my left
ribs. Dr. Peppy left the room and brought back a portable ultrasound machine.
While I waited for his return I remember looking up and praying, "Healthy
baby, healthy me. Whatever it takes. Please Heavenly Father!"
When Dr. Peppy had used the portable scanner he
said something about low fluid and wanting to get a better look. He told me to
get dressed, so I did, and then followed him into the ultrasound room, where
just one week earlier the same tech had joked with me about the strong
personality of my perfect baby boy. Only this time as she scanned over the
profile of his body, there was no movement and the fluttery spot where his
heart was, was completely still. Dr. Peppy took my hand and said something
like, "I’m so sorry, but there's no heartbeat." I looked up at the ultrasound
tech and tears were streaming down her face. Peppy began to tear up too, and
suddenly I realized what he was saying. Then instantly I was hit with a wave of
powerless despair, and started simultaneously sobbing and screaming out to God
that somehow it wasn't true…
.
.
.
As the reality sunk in, lying there in the dark, my
first coherent thoughts were "all that work for nothing!” and “I have to
do this all over again...” I wanted so badly to have my own baby. I WANT a baby
of my own so badly!! And pregnancy had been such a long, uncomfortable process
for me. Yet there I was, just two weeks away from meeting my perfect, stubborn,
little bundle of love… and he had silently passed away inside me.
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