I found out that I was pregnant on March 5, 2008. I immediately started crying, which really surprised me, and I remember the huge smile on Hunter's face. We decided to wait a while before telling our family. None of them had any idea that we had even been trying, and we were both so afraid that something bad would happen during the pregnancy. In the meantime, it was pretty fun having a secret for just us. We talked a lot about Ada's future, what to name her, what to do with the nursery, etc. It really was a fun time. Over my spring break we took a big trip out west. We put over 2,500 miles on the rental car and visited 6 national parks and drove through 6 states. We made sure to get a picture of the baby at each location.
Finally, on Mother's Day weekend we surprised both of our moms (and the rest of our family) with a picture from Ada's first ultrasound. That weekend was so much fun. A few weeks later, on
June 9, we had our big ultrasound. We were both so worried, but it turned out that our fears were unfounded because everything looked great and Ada was perfectly healthy. She was stubborn though, and wouldn't let us see that she was a girl! The ultrasound was pretty cool though, and we both enjoyed watching her move around and kick.
Around the same time, I had a blood test done. A week or two later my doctor called me to tell me that the screening had come back with an elevated risk of Down Syndrome. The next few days were horrible. I knew the tests gave LOTS of false positives, but what if I wasn't one of them?? Again though, we were worried for nothing. I got a call the next day that my test may have been miscalculated, and finally, nearly a week after the initial call, it was confirmed that that was the case and the baby was fine. Whew.
On June 20, I felt the baby kick for the first time! I was so excited! Later, I would keep putting Hunter's hand on my stomach and trying to help him feel the baby kick. He started to talk to her and tell her to kick - and she did! Every time he would put his face close to her and talk, she kicked!
On July 3 I had another doctor's appointment. Hunter went with me and our doctor graciously agreed to do an ultrasound there in her office to see if we could find out the gender of the baby. It was a girl! Hunter said that he figured he was outnumbered anyway (both of the cats are female), which I thought was pretty funny. Later that day we named her Ada Elizabeth and we had fun telling everybody that we were expecting a girl.
About a week or two later, I noticed that I hadn't been feeling Ada kick much. Every once in a while I would think that I felt something, but I was never convinced it wasn't just my stomach. So, on July 14, we called the doctor. The nurse told me to drink juice, lie really still, and that I should feel 10 movements within the hour. I felt nothing. She told me to repeat it for a second hour, and I thought maybe I felt something, but it certainly wasn't 10 movements. We went in for an ultrasound and I will never forget the technician's expression when she told me that she couldn't find the heartbeat. Up until that moment, I think I had been in denial. After all, we had been worried before and it always turned out to be for nothing. I was sure there was some good explanation for why I hadn't felt her. The ultrasound dated her death sometime around July 6 or 7 - just a few days after we had watched her heart beating on the screen and named her Ada.
The next few hours were a blur. I remember calling my mom and begging her to come. I remember going to my doctor and talking about what would happen next. I remember her telling us that we needed to make plans with a funeral home. I remember calling a couple of friends and being amazed at how calm I sounded on the phone. I remember my brother and sister-in-law bringing dinner over and nobody knew how to pray the blessing that night.
The next morning Hunter and I were about to go to the hospital - I was supposed to get there at 8:00. Throughout the pregnancy I had been writing some letters to Ada, and this is an excerpt from the one I wrote that morning. I couldn't even see the screen as I typed through my tears.
I had been thinking I needed to write in here about the day we found out you're a girl (July 3). We had our big ultrasound on June 9 but you didn't cooperate for that. Then on July 3 we went back to my doctor and she told us we're having a girl! I couldn't have been more excited, and Hunter was too. We named you later that day. You also started to move around this time and you would move every time your dad talked to you.
I had planned to tell you all of these things over and over as you grew up....any time you were stubborn, I was going to tease you that it started before birth. I was going to tell you that you had obviously always loved your dad.
On July 14, we went to the doctor because I hadn't been able to feel you move. The ultrasound technician said the worst thing that I ever could have heard...that she couldn't find your heartbeat. My world came crashing down. I couldn't think straight. Now here it is, less than 24 hours later, and my mind is still a blur. I've been through so much in the last day. Sometime later when my head is clearer I might write more about it.
For now though, I am just grieving the loss of my little girl. I will never be able to tell you all the things that I wanted to say. I will never get to know your personality. I won't get to know what you would have looked like when you were born, or started kindergarten, or on your wedding day. It breaks my heart.
Ada Elizabeth, you were loved long ago - and not just by me. You were surrounded by family and friends who loved you and so wanted to meet you. Your dad especially loved you. We're all grieving now.
So, we went to the hospital later that morning and I was induced with cytotec at 9:00. Getting those pills was definitely the most physically painful thing I had to go through - and I ended up having to get them 7 times over the next couple of days. Anyway, nothing much happened the first day. The nurses would come in and check on my contraction monitor because nothing was happening, and that was about it. I remember crying with Hunter several times and saying that this is not how labor is supposed to be. It was my first time delivering a baby and I was devastated rather than excited. That night I started getting a high fever from the medicine, and everything after that really is a blur to me. I would be miserably hot and putting ice all over my face, then freezing cold with 2 blankets out of the warmer on top of me and the thermostat turned up to 80. It was awful.
Finally, on the second day in the hospital, I started to dilate. It started getting pretty painful after lunch (not that I ate anything all day) and they gave me an epidural. Before having a baby, I thought the painful part of delivery was pushing the baby out. That may be the case too (I wouldn't know since Ada was so small and I was completely numbed), but the contractions are painful no matter how big the baby is! Anyway, she was finally born at 5:18 pm on July 16. Everything went just as it should have and there were no complications.
After the doctor and nurses had finished up with me, most of them left the room. One nurse brought the baby over to us and put her in my arms. We had brought a little pink blanket that my mom gave her and she was wrapped in it. (On one of my really bad days since losing her, I slept with that blanket.) She was tiny at 1 lb, 10 oz, but actually bigger than I had imagined. I was sort of afraid of what she might look like, but she actually looked just like a tiny baby. You could tell she wasn't quite ready to be born, but her fingers and toes were perfect and she had the sweetest little face. Hunter and I both decided that she looked like him. We both held her, talked to her, and told her goodbye. It was very sad to let her go.
Finally, on Mother's Day weekend we surprised both of our moms (and the rest of our family) with a picture from Ada's first ultrasound. That weekend was so much fun. A few weeks later, on
June 9, we had our big ultrasound. We were both so worried, but it turned out that our fears were unfounded because everything looked great and Ada was perfectly healthy. She was stubborn though, and wouldn't let us see that she was a girl! The ultrasound was pretty cool though, and we both enjoyed watching her move around and kick.Around the same time, I had a blood test done. A week or two later my doctor called me to tell me that the screening had come back with an elevated risk of Down Syndrome. The next few days were horrible. I knew the tests gave LOTS of false positives, but what if I wasn't one of them?? Again though, we were worried for nothing. I got a call the next day that my test may have been miscalculated, and finally, nearly a week after the initial call, it was confirmed that that was the case and the baby was fine. Whew.
On June 20, I felt the baby kick for the first time! I was so excited! Later, I would keep putting Hunter's hand on my stomach and trying to help him feel the baby kick. He started to talk to her and tell her to kick - and she did! Every time he would put his face close to her and talk, she kicked!
On July 3 I had another doctor's appointment. Hunter went with me and our doctor graciously agreed to do an ultrasound there in her office to see if we could find out the gender of the baby. It was a girl! Hunter said that he figured he was outnumbered anyway (both of the cats are female), which I thought was pretty funny. Later that day we named her Ada Elizabeth and we had fun telling everybody that we were expecting a girl.
About a week or two later, I noticed that I hadn't been feeling Ada kick much. Every once in a while I would think that I felt something, but I was never convinced it wasn't just my stomach. So, on July 14, we called the doctor. The nurse told me to drink juice, lie really still, and that I should feel 10 movements within the hour. I felt nothing. She told me to repeat it for a second hour, and I thought maybe I felt something, but it certainly wasn't 10 movements. We went in for an ultrasound and I will never forget the technician's expression when she told me that she couldn't find the heartbeat. Up until that moment, I think I had been in denial. After all, we had been worried before and it always turned out to be for nothing. I was sure there was some good explanation for why I hadn't felt her. The ultrasound dated her death sometime around July 6 or 7 - just a few days after we had watched her heart beating on the screen and named her Ada.
The next few hours were a blur. I remember calling my mom and begging her to come. I remember going to my doctor and talking about what would happen next. I remember her telling us that we needed to make plans with a funeral home. I remember calling a couple of friends and being amazed at how calm I sounded on the phone. I remember my brother and sister-in-law bringing dinner over and nobody knew how to pray the blessing that night.
The next morning Hunter and I were about to go to the hospital - I was supposed to get there at 8:00. Throughout the pregnancy I had been writing some letters to Ada, and this is an excerpt from the one I wrote that morning. I couldn't even see the screen as I typed through my tears.
I had been thinking I needed to write in here about the day we found out you're a girl (July 3). We had our big ultrasound on June 9 but you didn't cooperate for that. Then on July 3 we went back to my doctor and she told us we're having a girl! I couldn't have been more excited, and Hunter was too. We named you later that day. You also started to move around this time and you would move every time your dad talked to you.
I had planned to tell you all of these things over and over as you grew up....any time you were stubborn, I was going to tease you that it started before birth. I was going to tell you that you had obviously always loved your dad.
On July 14, we went to the doctor because I hadn't been able to feel you move. The ultrasound technician said the worst thing that I ever could have heard...that she couldn't find your heartbeat. My world came crashing down. I couldn't think straight. Now here it is, less than 24 hours later, and my mind is still a blur. I've been through so much in the last day. Sometime later when my head is clearer I might write more about it.
For now though, I am just grieving the loss of my little girl. I will never be able to tell you all the things that I wanted to say. I will never get to know your personality. I won't get to know what you would have looked like when you were born, or started kindergarten, or on your wedding day. It breaks my heart.
Ada Elizabeth, you were loved long ago - and not just by me. You were surrounded by family and friends who loved you and so wanted to meet you. Your dad especially loved you. We're all grieving now.
So, we went to the hospital later that morning and I was induced with cytotec at 9:00. Getting those pills was definitely the most physically painful thing I had to go through - and I ended up having to get them 7 times over the next couple of days. Anyway, nothing much happened the first day. The nurses would come in and check on my contraction monitor because nothing was happening, and that was about it. I remember crying with Hunter several times and saying that this is not how labor is supposed to be. It was my first time delivering a baby and I was devastated rather than excited. That night I started getting a high fever from the medicine, and everything after that really is a blur to me. I would be miserably hot and putting ice all over my face, then freezing cold with 2 blankets out of the warmer on top of me and the thermostat turned up to 80. It was awful.
Finally, on the second day in the hospital, I started to dilate. It started getting pretty painful after lunch (not that I ate anything all day) and they gave me an epidural. Before having a baby, I thought the painful part of delivery was pushing the baby out. That may be the case too (I wouldn't know since Ada was so small and I was completely numbed), but the contractions are painful no matter how big the baby is! Anyway, she was finally born at 5:18 pm on July 16. Everything went just as it should have and there were no complications.
After the doctor and nurses had finished up with me, most of them left the room. One nurse brought the baby over to us and put her in my arms. We had brought a little pink blanket that my mom gave her and she was wrapped in it. (On one of my really bad days since losing her, I slept with that blanket.) She was tiny at 1 lb, 10 oz, but actually bigger than I had imagined. I was sort of afraid of what she might look like, but she actually looked just like a tiny baby. You could tell she wasn't quite ready to be born, but her fingers and toes were perfect and she had the sweetest little face. Hunter and I both decided that she looked like him. We both held her, talked to her, and told her goodbye. It was very sad to let her go.
3 comments:
Dear Beth, I think it is wonderful that you are doing this. It is sad, yet what a sweet way to honor and remember your daughter. I will always remember hearing the horrible words spoken to me at 16 weeks of my 3rd pregnancy, "There is no heartbeat", as the machine was turned off. My understanding and response was delayed several seconds -- and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I will never, ever forget that feeling and surge of raw emotions. I'm sure through your sharing that you will help many other women or couples cope with a similiar loss. Just as your little girl was special, you are special too. Like mother, like daughter. Love you, Aunt Shirley
HI. I found your post through a friend's post. I think it is beautiful what you have done to remember your daughter. I am pregnant with my first child and we have been told that he has pentalogy of cantrell and may not live past birth. I am so encouraged by your words and your rememberance of your daughter. I needed to know it was ok to grieve. For me it is a little different. I will get to see my baby at birth but I am already grieving his loss. I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your words and feelings about your daughter.
I'm so sorry. You're right, your story does hit home a little bit. It's so hard holding that lifeless little body in your arms. RIP Ada, RIP Blake. <3
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