The.Worst.Week.Ever.

We get ready to go in for our 20-week ultrasound. I’m excited and nervous for this one. They’ll check all the vital organs and make sure everything is accounted for.  I had been a little concerned because all the apps were saying I should be feeling the baby move, but I hadn't felt him yet. 

I had watched Private Practice a year or two ago. On that show, one of the pregnant doctors never felt her baby kick because he didn't have a brain. What if Finn doesn't have a brain? I convince myself I’m being paranoid. Everyone feels the baby move at different times. This ultrasound is going to confirm he has a brain and put me at ease.

They call us in for out appointment. I’m checking work emails, preoccupied. The tech starts the ultrasound and immediately I know something is weird. We had mentioned our son Ethan's party so she’s talking about that. I ask her if the baby is moving and she says, "Not right now." Andrew mentioned I was worried that he didn't have a brain because I had not felt him move. Then, silence.

After a few seconds, she starts with questions. "When is the last time you felt him move?" "When is the last time you went to the doctor?"  I answer, wondering at the same time why she’s asking these questions. I’m afraid to ask, holding onto the words "not right now."  She said he’s not moving right now, then she changed the subject back to Ethan's party.  So we continue to talk about the party. Then she leaves after the first part of the ultrasound and I go to the bathroom.

I come back and she hasn’t returned yet. I start to get nervous. Why isn't she back? I know something is wrong.

At least 15 minutes later, she comes back with the doctor. My first thought is, “Why is the doctor in here?” He’s about to say something really terrible, like Finn doesn't have a brain or he has a disease. Instead, he says "I am so sorry. The baby doesn’t have a heartbeat. There is no blood flow through the cord."

My thought is, “Wait, what did he just say?!” He says he’s so sorry again. I’m in shock.  How could this be real?  So many things begin running through my head. How did this happen?!? What did I do wrong? Finn was fine. Great, even! I must have walked too much or strained too much at the party. How could I have killed my baby? My only job is to protect him and I couldn't do that! 

They tell us we need to go to my doctor's office, that they’re waiting for us.  We leave and I have a panic attack outside in the parking lot. This was not the first time this had happened to our family. Our nephew, Luke, was stillborn at 39 weeks. 39 weeks! He had died from a cord accident. How could lightning strike twice in the same family?!

In the parking lot, I keep saying, “What do I do now? What do I do now?” Andrew’s calm and I’m hysterical. Because I know what I have to do. I’m going to have to go to the hospital and deliver my son. What would he look like? Would he be blue? How would I be strong enough to see him? So many things going through my head.

I know have to call everyone and tell them I lost my baby, so I start calling people. Slowly breaking people's hearts as I hear each one react in shock. I still can’t believe this is even happening.

We go to the doctor immediately. Because I’m hysterically crying, they put us in a room and we wait for a while. My world had just stopped and all these people in the waiting room are fine. Talking to their families and going on with life as if something terrible didn't just happen.

We talk to the doctor and she checks again for a heartbeat. Nothing. She pulls up the ultrasound machine. Nothing. My heart is breaking into a million more pieces as she keeps checking. She starts talking to us about what comes next.  I’m thinking this can't be real! How could Finn be dead? How could my son be dead?!?

When we talked to her, she kept saying how perfect everything was going and how all the genetic screenings came back negative. She mentioned the last time we heard the heartbeat it was strong enough that it sounded like a full-term baby. She wasn't making me feel any better. They just make me think, “What did I do to change that?” He was measuring the right size so it must have happened within the last 48 hours.  I must have killed him somehow. I must have done something wrong. I let him down.  I’m his mom and I didn't know what was happening inside me.  He was trying to tell me to slow down because he was dying.  How could I not know? I am his mom. This is my fault!

All I want to do is deliver ASAP. I’m terrified, but I have no choice.  We go to the hospital immediately. My family starts to show up.  I tell them not to cry. I tell the nurses I just wanted to get this started.  Instead, they came back with Cytotec and tell me they’re going to send me home. It’s going to take a couple days for the medicine to take effect. As if giving birth to my dead son isn't terrible enough, now we’re dragging it out.  I am knowingly carrying my dead son and will continue to do so for the next couple days. How do I be? How do I exist?

I can't be at home. We pack our stuff and head over to my parent's house. There are lots of people and things to distract me. I start my medication, and must continue to take it every 6 hours. After a day of taking it, the medication starts to kick in with side effects like nausea and vomiting.  Finally, the doctor tells us we can go to the hospital at 10 pm on Tuesday.

We get there at exactly 10 pm. My mom and Andrew have not left my side.  It takes an hour to get admitted. Finally, we see a doctor at 11:30.  We tell the doctor we want to deliver as soon as possible.  He recommends a drug that he says not many other doctors use. With this drug, he’s confident we should be able to deliver in 8 hours.  I start the meds immediately.

As they put in the epidural, my body begins to shake. At first, I think I’m just really nervous. Then the shaking gets worse. Before I know it, my whole body starts shaking vigorously and I start vomiting. The blood pressure machine is unable to take my blood pressure because I’m shaking so hard. It gets tighter and tighter. I am MISERABLE! I’m not going to be able to do this for 8 hours.  I can't get comfortable. I’m tossing and turning every minute. 

Andrew and my mom take turns stuffing pillows behind my back. Every time they do another dose, the symptoms get stronger. Finally, around 5 am the doctors are changing shifts and I get some relief because they stop these terrible meds.  My doctor gets to the hospital and clarifies that the reason a lot of doctors don’t use those meds is because of the side effects. Oh, great, now you tell me.  She changes me back to Cytotec and now we wait to dilate.

We only need to dilate to 4” because Finn is so little, so we’re hoping it will be fast. We wait, and we wait, and we wait. I have nurses and doctors coming in and checking my dilation. I stayed at 1" for a good 10 or 11 hours.  We’re so bored. There are no games in the gift shop. We can't even watch TV anymore.  My family comes to visit - thank goodness - and keep us busy for a while.  We play I Spy  Literally watching the clock for my next dose. 

My sisters end up leaving for a little while to give Ethan a nap. My mom leaves the room to do her steps. Of course, this is when I get a huge, long, never-ending  contraction.  My epidural isn't really working anymore so I’m feeling it all. It’s constant - no relief. We page the nurse. I’ve gone from 1" to 4".  Holy crap.

It’s happening! We’re going to meet him. I am so scared to see him.  The nurse pages the doctor.  And we wait. And we wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, a doctor comes only to tell us to wait for the other doctor, who’s stuck in traffic.  We wait over an hour for the doctor to come. I’m ready; it’s happening.  He checks me and says that I need Pitocin.  What?!?! Why? He wants to make sure Finn and the placenta come out together and in one piece to avoid surgery. To do this, my body has to start contractions so it pushes him out naturally. He assures it won't take long. So we wait again! And we wait and we wait.

After about three hours, the nurse pages the doctor, saying it feels different. I’m tempted to ask if it’s bad but refrain. I mean, really, it can't get much worse.  At this point, I’m dilated to 9". Without warning, the doctor pulls Finn out. Oh my gosh. He's here. The doctor tells that the cord was wrapped tightly around Finn’s neck twice and once around his shoulder. He tries to show me but I don't bend that way. Andrew and my mom see it, though.

The doctor tells us we don't need an autopsy because it was clearly a cord accident.  He unwraps the cord from the neck so Andrew can cut it. They wrap Finn up and hand him to us. I was so afraid to see him, but he isn't scary at all. He’s perfect. He’s a teeny, tiny baby, fully formed.  He isn’t blue. His skin is red and he has no hard bones. His limbs are limp and his skin is cold to the touch. None of that matters, He’s our son.  

After Andrew cuts the cord, he starts bawling.  Then after a few minutes, I start bawling. We’re devastated. We lost our baby. Seeing him made it real. Finally, I ask to hold him. I’m comforted by holding him. He is perfect. Perfect toes, little hands, Andrew's chin. Just a small version. He was just a tiny baby.

After I deliver Finn, they allow me to sit up while we wait to see if the placenta would deliver. rews sister Jenn has a photographer come. She’s from a nonprofit called Lay Me Down To Sleep.  It’s all volunteers, and they take photos of babies that have passed or won't live very long. She’s amazing. She takes the most beautiful photos of our munchkin. We want to make sure he will never be forgotten. She gets photos of him with our rings, of us holding him, his hands, his cute little tiny feet.  Not missing anything. 

While she’s taking pictures of him, I begin to feel dizzy.  I’m seeing colors and my ears start ringing. I had lost a lot of blood and I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. I fall backwards and all of a sudden, doctors and nurses surround me. They put my feet up and my mom has me drink some orange juice.

The doctor asks me my blood type. When he asks, I have a flashback to one of my earlier appointments. I remember my doctor asking what blood type I was because the lab had forgotten to test for it. When I told her I didn't know, she asked if I wanted to go back and test for it or wait until the next blood test at 22 weeks. I had asked if I could just wait and she said yes, explaining the only reason you would need it is in a case of an emergency. I didn't go back to test for it! So here I am in the middle of an emergency and I don't know my blood type. Oh my gosh! I’m going to die. The first thing I think is, “Man, Andrew is going to have a bad day.” 

For what feels like an eternity, I sincerely think I’m going to die. Just like in those movies when a mother gives birth and is fine, then all of the sudden looses consciousness. After a minute or two, the room stops spinning and the bells stop ringing in my ears but the doctor and nurses remain around me. It’s so weird. What’s happening? The doctor tries to deliver the placenta but the epidural isn't working as well as it should have been. Because he can't deliver the placenta, and everything I’ve just been through, I now need a D & C.

I get prepped for surgery and they roll me into the operating room. Just like in the movies. The lights are bright above me and it’s freezing. They inject a stronger medication into my epidural, but it doesn't work so they use anesthesia. My mom told me to tell them I had orange juice so I keep repeating it to them. The anesthesiologist says, “Don't worry. I‘ll keep you safe.” With that, they put the mask over me and I breathe in a few times - then I’m out.

I remember waking up from the anesthesia. Andrew’s biggest fear is waking up during a surgery, so that’s what I think is happening. When I become fully conscious, I realize I’m in another room. Then I see a nurse. I ask her how long I’ve been out and she tells me about an hour. I ask her where Finn is and she says he’s in the other room with my mom. In that moment, I’m so excited that I got to use his name and refer to him in the present. It was an amazing feeling to ask for him and actually feel like he was here with us for one second.  I’m grateful that they hadn’t taken him. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.

They roll me into the recovery room at about 2 am. We get to spend some more time with Finn. We’re all delirious but so happy to have the extra time. My mom falls asleep on the laundry basket. One of the nurses needs to throw something in it so they kick her off, but as soon as the nurse leaves she falls right back to sleep on it. Oh, my Mama. They’re telling us she’s not allowed to stay and I think, “Look at her. She’s just sleeping on the laundry basket.”

After about 2 hours, we’re ready to say goodbye. They take Finn away but only roll him into the other room. I’m so delirious I can't stay up any longer. I feel guilt for letting him sit in the room alone but I hadn't eaten, I was in labor all day, and I had only slept a few hours in the last few days. I still feel guilt for not holding him longer and allowing him to sit in the next room by himself. It was the only time I had with him and I cut it short because I was exhausted.

Andrew’s snoring in the bed next to me already. I’m trying to stay conscious long enough to make sure my mom gets something to sleep on, but I fall asleep. When I wake up an hour later, my mom’s on a bed. I fall back asleep quickly.

Morning finally comes. My mom and Andrew are still sleeping. I lay there thinking. What the hell just happened? Is this really real? What day is it? Eventually, the troops wake up and we order breakfast.  All I want is Golden Spoon. We recruit my sisters to bring it along with In-N-Out. The doctor says we have to stay until 4 pm to be discharged, so the sisters come to keep us company until we’re released from prison.

Finally, 4 rolls around and we’re free. Thank goodness. I don't think we could watch the clock anymore. They have to wheel me out of the hospital like they do all new moms. The last time I was wheeled out of there I had Ethan screaming in my arms and yet I was so proud. This time I held my purse, crying all the way out with a huge hole in the heart. Now that I’m free from the hospital, how do I survive this? What do I do now? I have no idea.