Isaiah's Story - Part Two

If you are just joining - here is the link to Part One of Isaiah's story...

 Isaiah's Story - Part One

When I arrived at the Labor and Delivery desk, they were expecting me.  The on-call doctor had let them know I was coming in.  The nurses didn't move very quickly when I gave them my name, etc., but when I started crying as I explained that I hadn't been feeling movement from the baby, they responded quickly to help comfort me.  

They brought me to a room, hooked up the Doppler monitor, and started checking for a heartbeat.  After minutes of navigating the disc over every side of my abdomen many times...pressing in...pushing - they couldn't find anything conclusive.  It was like they would hear a shadow of a heartbeat for a second and lose it.  Looking back, I'm sure they knew or suspected the truth - but wanted to hope for the best.  They were probably hearing shadows of my heartbeat.  Matt kept calling my phone - he couldn't handle just waiting - so we decided to stay on the phone together.  I was still pretty calm at this point.

The nurses called the doctor in to do an ultrasound.  My sweet nurse, T, held my hand, remaining patient and peaceful.  The doctor hooked up the machine and poured on the goop.  As she got the machine started, I gazed up at the ceiling and explained to Matt that they were starting the ultrasound...all along trying to keep the "everything will probably be okay" attitude that I explained previously.  

It was as I slowly dropped my head that I saw a portion of the screen and the doctor shaking her head.  In a disappointed voice she said "I'm so sorry - I don't see any movement - I don't see a heartbeat."  I wasn't prepared for this sudden conclusion, and with no warning, a loud, anguished cry burst forth from my chest.  Matt caught his breath and disbelievingly asked "No?  No?" - wondering for sure whether our baby was alive or not.  I forced myself to echo the words the doctor had just uttered for him to hear - breaking the heart of the man I love. 

My mind whirled in disbelief and blurs over what was said next.  We knew the next step was for Matt to come to the hospital, so we considered our options to get him there the soonest.  We decided to call our sweet friend, S, who had been on call to come at night if we went into labor - knowing she would probably be available and willing to care for and love our children in our absence until we knew how long we would be or if our parents could come.  

The nurses begged us not to let Matt drive after hearing this news, but it was only 2 miles away - and he firmly said he was coming.  We asked the nurses what we needed to have there with us, and not knowing if we would stay overnight or not, Matt said he would grab the bag we had packed to accompany us to the hospital...the bag filled with items to use as we welcomed our child, not said goodbye.  I flatly reminded him to grab the camera, too.  

I called S, and through a crying, panicked voice, I told her that we'd just found out that we lost the baby and asked if she could get to our house as soon as possible so that Matt could get to the hospital.  I felt guilt for having to "hurt" another with our news.  This was the first of many times I would have this feeling over the next few days.

As I waited for Matt to arrive, I contemplated calling my parents - knowing my mom would kill me if she knew that I hadn't even called to tell her I was going in to the hospital to be checked, much less this...but I knew that Matt and I needed to call our parents together.  

Yet - I couldn't bear to be there alone - so I called the next person that came to my mind - my best friend, K.  When she answered the phone in a groggy voice, I knew she was expecting me to tell her some joyful news - that we were in labor or had already had the baby.  Instead, all I could do was cry out the only phrase I'd come to grips with saying - we'd lost the baby.  I don't remember the call very well, but I know she comforted and cried with me until I knew Matt was near.  Thank you for your love, dear friend...I am so thankful for you.

Matt arrived at the hospital around 4:45am - exactly an hour after I had.  When he got to my room, we embraced and cried...numb and in shock.  He hugged me and then he prayed.  He asked that amidst this unthinkable tragedy, that God would have his hand on us and somehow get us through the events to come.  I am so very thankful for my sweet man - and for that prayer.  I know that God gave him the strength and words - and it was exactly what I needed.  I will never forget that moment.

Soon our nurse, T, came in and took a couple of photos of my pregnant belly for us - the last pregnant photos we would have taken.  

As we cradled that baby bump - the love for our baby was palpable.  It is amazing how much love we could have for our child - even before we'd met.

 T then explained that I would have to go to another part of the hospital to have an official ultrasound done.  They would take measurements of the baby, etc. - the first of several attempts to figure out what had happened - and it would act as a second confirmation of death.   

She led us through an employee elevator to basement for the ultrasound.  The hallways felt as hollow as my heart.  The technician was so nonchalant - like this scan was just like any other on her shift.  I couldn't imagine how her world could still be moving - while ours had come to a screeching halt and crumbled in mere minutes.  Again, this was the first of MANY feelings I would have like this over the next few weeks.

I layed on the ultrasound table feeling heavy and lifeless, much like my sweet baby.  T held my hand and Matt stroked my shoulder.  At this point we still didn't know the gender of the baby and we asked the technician not to tell us...we still wanted that surprise at delivery.  

Right away as the scan began, T noticed that the baby wasn't head down, but was transverse, or sideways (in my case, the head was on the left side of my abdomen, and the feet on the right).  She wondered aloud if the doctor had noticed that in my ultrasound upstairs, but neither of us could recall.  The baby had been head down at my appointment just a few days before.  I didn't realize at this point that this would be a hindrance to a natural delivery.

I chose to look away for most of the ultrasound, not able to watch the motionless screen of my child - who had been so vibrant and active just a day ago.  The technician took measurements of the baby and took pictures of the beautiful, but very still, heart. She said the body measured 36.5 weeks and the head 39 weeks (large heads run on my side).  This reminded us of what the OB's had questioned throughout my pregnancy - my due date.  From the measurements of the five previous ultrasounds we had done, they thought the baby may have been due closer to April 15.  This would make the baby more like 38 weeks instead of 36.5 weeks gestation.  We will never know for sure, but due to the height and weight at birth (6lb. 12 oz and 20 in), we do wonder if this was the case.

After the ultrasound ended around 5:30 am, and we headed back upstairs to discuss and start the induction, but decided to call our families first.  How could we say this out loud?  How could we find the strength to utter the words that we'd lost our sweet baby...that we had no idea how or why?  How could we ever break this news to those we loved most...to those who already loved our baby, too?

These questions were just a symptom of the hurt overtaking our hearts, minds, bodies, and souls.  All I could think was "Lord - what do we say?  Lord - how can we deal with this?  Lord - we can't do this."

To be continued...

Link to Isaiah's Story - Part Three

One Month

Today marks one month since our little Isaiah came and left in an instant.  We miss everything about him right now - especially knowing his personality and enjoying his developments - and seeing his big brother and sister love on him.

Some that weren't able to attend his service have asked about the slideshow that was shown - so I thought I would share it today.

You'll just have heaven before we do, little man.  We love you - and we miss you.

Isaiah's Slideshow

Isaiah's Story: Part One

Sunday, April 1, 2012 was a busy day.  We were at church early and spent all morning there - attending Sunday School, enjoying fellowship with friends, praising God in song, taking in the Word.  It was also an exciting day because my parents were concluding a campaign season that day, and whatever happened with that, we knew they would now be available to come watch the big kids when the baby was born.  With all of the pre-term labor I had starting at 27 weeks, I was so glad to have made it to 36+ weeks and was READY to have our baby.  Contractions were an exhausting, almost daily occurrence, so I was eager not to be nervous about them anymore.  Instead we could now be free to embrace the impending arrival of our new addition.

After lunch and naps we played outside while Daddy cleaned out the van and with the "help" of the kids, moved the big kids' seats to the back and installed the infant seat in the middle.  Caleb asked, "Is our baby coming home today?"  We chuckled and told him probably not, but it could be any day - or maybe a few weeks yet.

It was a gorgeous day (and we wanted to be active every day from here on out to get labor moving), so we pulled out the wagon and took a family walk to the park.  We chatted about life as we walked, and I mentioned to Matt that I had contractions coming and going, but nothing regular.  I guessed they were just Braxton Hicks contractions brought on from the activity.  Though I was hoping to get labor moving, I figured that Mom and Dad probably needed a day or two to recover before coming to the cities, and we were also hoping to avoid April 2nd since it was our niece's first birthday.  I decided just to be patient (not that we have much choice in the progression of these types of things).

We got home and had supper, put the kids to bed, and sat down to relax.  Matt decided to go outside and work on his bike since he was hoping to start biking to work again soon.  I checked my e-mail and Facebook, did a few tasks, and then dozed off on the couch.  I woke up around 11:30pm and Matt had already gone to bed.  That was strange, because he almost always woke me up to come to bed if I fell asleep on the couch.  As I sat up to get ready for bed, I realized that I hadn't really felt the baby move much this evening - and I noticed that the baby was very heavy on my one side.  As babies get bigger, it is pretty normal to feel that heaviness after lying on one side for a long time, but this heaviness was very significant.

I brushed my teeth and went to bed, and as I prepared to fall asleep, I decided to do a kick count.  A kick count is done to calculate the number of baby movements in a certain time period (usually 20-60 minutes).  It is especially done when expectant mothers are worried about a decrease in the movements of the baby.  So I remained awake for about 20 minutes and didn't feel anything.  As I dozed off I figured the baby was probably sleeping.

At 2:30am I woke up and again felt uneasy about the lack of movement.  I got up and drank a large glass of ice cold water in hopes of waking the baby up to try another kick count.  As I was lying on the couch for 20-30 minutes, I didn't start worrying until about 15 or 20 minutes into it.  I waited about 10 more minutes and realized I needed to call the doctor.  I contemplated waking Matt, but I knew I was doing what he'd want me to by calling in, and wanted him to be able to sleep.  I think now that subconsciously I was beginning to realize something was wrong.  

I called and left a message with the service that gets in touch with the on-call doctors from our group, and within a few minutes the on-call doctor called me back.  Those minutes in between calls were excruciating.  I desperately tried to poke at the baby to wake him/her up.  I rapidly tried to think through my day to the last time I felt the baby.  We had been so active and busy that day, and I was more concerned with how many contractions I'd had - not how many movements I'd felt.  I knew I had felt the baby on Saturday night when Matt and I were watching TV together, but that was all I could confirm.

When I heard the doctor’s voice on the phone, I broke down before I could even get a word out.  When I could finally speak, I told her that I hadn't been feeling the baby and that I'd tried a kick count at 11:30pm and 2:30am.  In a shocked voice she said, "you mean you haven't felt your baby for 3 hours?"  My heart dropped.  If she thought that three hours was too long, I realized something was probably very wrong.  It was more likely that it had been longer than that, and I told her so.  It was at this moment that I knew that whatever was going on here was already done...that our baby was either OK or not OK…nothing in between.  The doctor told me to get to the hospital as soon as I could.

I ran in and woke Matt and told him I had to get to the hospital.  He asked what happened, and as I started to break down, I told him I hadn't been feeling the baby.  He said, "you mean you haven't felt the baby all day?"  I sobbed and just kept saying, "I don't know.  I can't remember."  In this moment in time I felt like a failure as a mother.  Who ignores the movements of their baby?  Of course I realize now that this is irrational thinking.  All pregnant mommies have to take movement in stride because it can vary so much, but in that fragment of time, I felt like a failure.

One of the ways that pregnant moms can keep themselves from going crazy with worry during a pregnancy is to look on the bright side and assume that things are OK.  Otherwise one could go to the clinic every other day with a symptom that they think could be interfering with their pregnancy.  So I threw my clothes on and collected myself (as I am not usually one to cry about everything), and going with that mindset I told Matt that everything was probably OK.  Then my face immediately crumpled when I continued and said, "but what if it's not?"  We embraced - not knowing how to prepare for the worst case scenario.

Because of the urgency to get there, we decided that I'd go alone to the hospital and Matt would stay with the kids in case the doctor just wanted to check me and I'd come home.  We didn't want to call our friend who was on-call in case of labor if it was just a quick time of monitoring.  I got in the car, drove the two miles to North Memorial Hospital, and went as quickly as I could to the Labor and Delivery desk.  They were expecting me.

To be continued... 

Link to Isaiah's Story - Part Two 

Due

As I've thought about the blog, I haven't really known where to start. I haven't been sure if I should go back and tell Isaiah's story from the start, or just share my current thoughts. Since I haven't blogged before, I don't have a style or pattern to go by. I also don't want my posts to solely be about our loss (though they may focus on that for a while). As I've contemplated how to begin, the days have been passing by and many things have been on my mind and heart to share....so I've decided that I will just start with today and go back and tell Isaiah's story as I can.

Today is a special day. April 26, 2012 - the date we marked on the calendar and looked forward to...the date I initially was hoping not to get to because we were pretty sure he was due sooner.

Today is Isaiah's due date.

I would pretty much do anything to be miserably pregnant and still feeling his life within me, but never was he to be due to enter life outside of the womb here on this earth.

Today would also have been the 100th birthday of Matt's Great Grandma Edna Hofer (if she were still with us). Oh how I hope she is celebrating with you today, Isaiah. She tells great stories and has been around the world visiting missionaries - and she loved your family very much. I am so grateful to know that so many of our family members are in heaven - loving you and knowing you like we wish we could.

Thank you to everyone who has prayed for us today (and every day). Today brought new waves of sadness and bitter disappointment for what I wanted life to be right now, but it also brought reminders of hope in many forms. Our Lord is so very faithful. Though I expect to find myself in complete desperation (and sometimes have those feelings), Jesus has kept his steadying hand on me -- keeping me from falling so far into the pit of utter despair that his love or hope or promises would be invisible. Thankfully I can see glimpses of all of those things (though the view is sometimes cloudy). Even though life is stormy and so very sad right now, the depths of my soul knows that I am being held by my Lord. Thank you for your prayers. I am certain that I would not be in the same place without them. You have blessed my life. Thank you.

There are so many things I want to share, but they will have to wait for another post. I'll end with a quote that I read today that verbalized one of my biggest fears about Isaiah...

...I just don't want anyone to forget him.

"When a baby is born, it's a mother's instinct to protect the baby. When a baby dies, it's the mother's instinct to protect their memory." ~Author Unknown

Today we remember you, little Isaiah - and we miss you.