Well, I think I've finally gathered the strength to write this. In case you don't know, our son, Asa Michael Tyler, was stillborn on Saturday, March 2 at 23 weeks gestation. It's so important to me that I don't forget anything about his story, since he was with us for such a short time. His story and a few treasures (footprints, blanket, hat) are all we have left of him.
I want to back up before his actual birth story began, to where the story begins for me. On Tuesday, February 26th, I think after I had put the kids to bed is when I first noticed that I hadn't felt the baby (he didn't have a name at this time) move lately. I wasn't too worried at this point because I had felt that way before; you can imagine that with two young kids I keep fairly busy and it's always easier to feel a baby move when you are sitting and relaxing quietly. So whenever I was worried about it, I would sit, stretched out on our loveseat and almost always feel his reassuring kicks and twists and turns. This night, however, I did not.
I went to bed that night hoping I would feel him move while I was laying, trying to fall asleep. I was worried but just thought that maybe he had changed positions so it was just harder to feel him move now. Night passed and I slept okay.
Wednesday morning came and when it was time for Declan's nap, I decided to take a nap as well. Bailey stayed in the living room so I was in my room alone and before I slept, I cried. I was really starting to worry now and wondering how I could find the strength to go see the doctor about this. I went through the rest of the day Wednesday - it was hard and I think deep in my heart I probably knew he was gone. I even considered not going to church Wednesday night - my heart was so heavy with the knowledge of what I was going to have to do on Thursday if I continued to not feel any movement from my baby. But I put on a happy face, as much as I could and made it through church.
Wednesday night is a little foggy for me now. I think I went to bed before Anthony did and I cried again. I remember pushing on my stomach in a futile attempt to get the baby to move. I begged the baby to move. I begged God to not let my baby be gone. I can honestly say that Wednesday night was one of the worst nights of my life - I didn't sleep much and when I did I woke often. I couldn't believe that this was happening to me.
Thursday morning finally rolled around and I was quietly crying before Anthony even got out of bed. After he got up to take his shower I just sobbed because I knew I was going to have to tell him what was going on, so we could make a visit to the doctor that day. Once he got done in the shower and came out of the bathroom he saw me crying and asked what was wrong. I couldn't even answer at first because I was sobbing so hard. I finally gathered myself enough to tell him that I hadn't felt the baby move for a while. He asked if I wanted to go to the doctor. I said I needed to go and asked him if he could call the office - there was no way in the world I was going to be able to make that call. So he called the office and they basically said to come as soon as we could. He also called Ashley (my sister) to see if we could bring the kids to her. I was so thankful that I had him - he had strength to do the hard things when I had none. So I got ready and got the kids ready while he ran to school to get his sub plans ready. When he got back we loaded up and headed to Ashley's to drop the kids off. I didn't even get out of the jeep because I knew I would lose it if I was face to face with her (she is pregnant, due date very close to mine). Then we made that dreaded trip to the doctor's office.
I was not crying when I went into the office, but I'm sure if someone looked closely enough, they could tell I had been crying. I just wanted to sit where no one could see me. It seems like they shouldn't make you wait in the waiting room if you are there for that reason -- with all the women with healthy, growing babies. But we didn't have to wait too long and the nurse called me back. I was seeing Dr. McMillan, a doctor I had never met before. I had switched to this practice when I got pregnant just so I could follow my favorite doctor, Dr. Thompson, the one who delivered Declan. He is amazing and I cannot say enough good things about him. But Dr. Thompson was in surgery this morning.
So I get to the room and the nurse starts to get me hooked up to the nonstress test, which was really just a heartrate monitor in this case. She moved it around for a while and thought that she had found it but was having trouble keeping it. Whatever the heartrate was that she found, I thought it was too low to be a baby's heartrate. She had another nurse come in to see if she could get it better. At one point they also handed me the little clicker that you are supposed to push when you feel the baby move. That kind of felt like a cruel joke. Also at some point one of the nurses tried to just get the heartrate with the doppler - she asked me if I "felt that" and said that she felt the baby kick the monitor. I didn't feel anything. So finally I think they concluded that the baby was too active to find his heartrate very well. So they left and said that Dr. McMillan would be in soon. At this point I was thinking maybe I was just paranoid and maybe the baby was fine. But I couldn't forget that I still had not felt him move. But I felt like I had hope at this point.
Dr. McMillan soon came in and also said something about the baby being too active to find his heartrate but that he would do an ultrasound so we could see what was going on. So we waited a while in that room while they got the ultrasound room ready. Then the nurse came and got us and brought us to the other room, and we sat and waited in there a while. When Dr. McMillan came in he got the ultrasound started and was quiet for a minute. Then he told us and showed us on the screen, though I don't remember his exact words, that the heart wasn't beating. I didn't cry right away. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me and I was in shock. The nurses had given me hope, though I should have known better - and I probably really did, deep down. I just needed to cling to that hope, even if it turned out to be false hope.
Dr. McMillan was very kind and gentle with us. He talked a little bit about what we would do from there - there were a few options for inducing me. I had already been down this path in my mind, and I had figured that they would have to do a c-section since I had the partial uterine rupture with Declan. I expressed that concern with him, though I could barely find the words to get a sentence out. But he assured me that this would be the best option. He said that we could either go straight over to the hospital and get it started, or we could go home for a few hours and then go to the hospital. I just had no idea what to do - my head was spinning. I think he sensed that I just needed direct instructions instead of choices, so he said that we should go home for a few hours and get our things together and he would call the hospital and tell them to expect us. He apologized and then he left.
I had been crying a little, but of course I bawled when he left. Anthony and I just stood there in the middle of the room and held each other and cried for a few minutes. Then I gathered myself enough to leave though I was just trying to hold it together as we walked through the halls and back out through the waiting room. I'm sure the people waiting could see I was upset. We drove home and basically went straight to the bed and cried some more. I don't remember how long I laid there for but I knew I had to get myself up and get ready - I really wanted to get the induction started so we could get it over with, get through the nightmare, but it was so hard to find the strength to make myself get out of bed. There were many times I was just hoping I would wake up and find it was all a bad dream. Somehow I did it - got out of bed and packed the things I would need at the hospital. I had a bowl of cereal - I didn't really feel like eating but I was afraid they wouldn't let me eat at the hospital and I didn't want to be starving. Sometime while I was getting ready, Anthony called Ashley to tell her what was going on. I'm sure she must have known that it was not good, since it had been several hours since we dropped the kids off with her. But again, Anthony took the load from me and made that call, knowing that I didn't have the strength to do it.
We somehow forced ourselves out the door to head to the hospital. We get in the jeep and Anthony turned the key - and it wouldn't start. It was because of an ongoing problem that we've had with it, so it wasn't a total surprise, but I remember thinking, "Really God? I have a dead baby in my belly. Is that not enough?". Kind of funny to me now. So Anthony finally managed to get it started and we headed to the hospital with heavy hearts. We didn't really know what to expect but the next couple days would hold many tears, plenty of sorrow, lots of laughter, and so much peace from God.
Part 2
Part 3
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
