P.s. Because I write for myself, I will go through a lot of details and hope to tell it like it is. Please be respectful of this. Oh, and some posts will be LONG because of it :)
The story starts like this:
Early Feb 2010, Randy and I first found out we were expecting our second child. Really, just three words summed it up: "It's About Time!". In fact it was me that was holding things up, as I wanted to "get our life in order" before trying for another. Anyway, shortly after Logan's 2nd Birthday, I had the feeling I was ready. In just a couple months, we would be moving to a home we adored and Randy was being hired for a more satisfying and stable job. Things were looking up. When we found out we were also pregnant just a few months later, we were extremely excited! Heavenly Father just answered all our prayers that we had been praying about for many many months, all at once! It was a great lesson to us in trusting in the Lord, and being patient for blessings. Everything seemed to be working out wonderfully!
The pregnancy was also great. Much like Logan's, actually. All in all, it was pretty easy besides the usual heartburn and dizzy spells that I also got with Logan. One frustrating thing, however, was that the sonographer at our clinic kept getting readings that our baby was small. The first time this happened was at our 20 week ultrasound. 20 week ultrasounds are supposed to be one of the best points in your pregnancy, right?? How fun to find out the gender of you baby...right??! Well, we got the wonderful news that our baby was a "she", but also got dealt the news that two of her measurements were only in the single digit percentiles and our doctor was recommending us go have a Level 2 ultrasound done to confirm their numbers. I. was. devastated. It was awful! I was not expecting bad news (even questionable news!) at all! Anyway, we scheduled it as soon as we could since I felt like I couldn't wait another moment... I just needed to know that my baby was ok. And so we went later that week to have the Level 2. We were pretty nervous, as this day could determine our baby's future, we thought. We said a quick prayer and went inside. As they were performing the ultrasound, they kept calling out the things they were seeing, and always ended each statement with a positive note such as "Looks good!" Each positive comment they made was music to my ears. After they were finished, they told us everything was great and that their measurements were right on track - all of them in the 40ish percentile! They did however, note a two vessel umbilical cord and therefore wanted to play things safe since there's a couple cases of holes in the heart on Randy's side of the family, and therefore referred us to have a heart echo done, since two vessel cords can potentially affect how the heart is developed. "Well, you win some, you lose some, I thought..." Two vessel cords occur in only 1% of pregnancies and besides affect the way a couple major organs are developed, it can possibly result in slower growth in the third trimester. "I can deal with a smaller baby or even a baby that may require surgery after birth" I thought, "As long as my baby is generally healthy, then I'm happy".
So the pregnancy continued. We did go in for the heart echo and it only confirmed how perfectly normal her heart had developed and we therefore had nothing to worry about as far as the cord affecting organ development. At about 28 weeks, my doctor decided to again have another ultrasound, just to check her growth (which was recommended by the perionatologists as a precautionary thing) and so we scheduled an ultrasound with the clinic's sonographer again (which told us the measurements were again small!) which brought us back for another Level 2, from which they AGAIN told us that our baby looked perfectly normal and was growing like any normal baby. Little did we know that this last Level 2 ultrasound on August 11, 2011, would be the last time we'd see our sweet baby alive. Just a few weeks after that appointment, our baby's movements went from typical to very strong, forceful and rapid. I noted it to my doctor at my 33 week appointment, saying "she's a fighter" and "I don't remember Logan EVER moving like this!" She didn't make it seem out of the ordinary and I just thought she must be strong and healthy, and it must be an indicator of her personality... However, just a few days after that appointment, I noticed that her movements went from strong and forceful, to slow and weak. I gave it a day or so to see if they resumed back to normal, but they didn't. I woke up that Friday morning very worried. I waited by the phone until the clinic opened at 8 am. I think I called them at 8:01. I left a message for a nurse to return my call as soon as possible. When they finally called 45 minutes later, I mentioned that I had been laying there for about 45 mins and hadn't felt any strong kicks, but have since gotten up to play with my son, thinking that she must be sleeping and that maybe if I moved around some, she'd wake up. The nurse on the nurseline then told me that I wasn't counting kicks correctly and that I needed to lay there for an entire hour AFTER having a good breakfast and lots of water. (Oh great, now I needed to start over?! Does it mean anything that I'm just worried that her movement pattern changed?? I guess not.) When I mentioned that I was still worried, she said I could come in if I really wanted to for the peace of mind since it was a Friday. I quickly got ready and headed to the clinic. Upon arriving, I checked in and waited...and waited...and waited. After 45 minutes of waiting, I asked the receptionist if it was getting close to my turn. She said she'd have a nurse get the room ready... (what?! did they even know I was there?!?) While waiting for them to get it ready, I got to thinking about her movements which I had actively been paying attention to the whole while during waiting and thought "Usually in a situation like this, I'd be worried sick at home, then get into the clinic and THEN notice all the movements and kicks" That's just the way it usually goes. But not this time. I felt her move a few times, but still not very much.
Soon, they took me into the room, brushed off the machine, got it hooked up, and put the belts around my belly. Immediately, I heard the strong galloping sound of her heartbeat. They had the volume up pretty loud, and it was extremely distracting. Still to this day, the sound of her heartbeat that day is engrained in my brain. It was so distracting that I found it hard to pay attention to her movements enough to hit the button when I felt her move. About 10 minutes went by and I still had not felt a movement. "They're going to think I'm lying," I thought. The doctor (not my usual doctor) came in, took a look at the printout and said it's not exactly what he'd like to see, but suggested they get me some juice and that I lie on my side and they'll keep monitoring. As I layed there, I studied the printout, trying to figure out how to interpret it. Soon I felt my little girl. She was there and started moving around more. But still, some movements were hard to catch. I had to be paying close attention to notice them at all. After another 15 minutes or so, the doc came back in, looked at the printout, shut off the machine, and said that things look good and I was ok to go home. He said that I was getting closer to the end of my pregnancy, and things get tighter in there, allowing less room for baby to move. I felt like he was missing the point. I again stressed the point that "it's not that I don't feel her. I just don't feel her like I used to." He discussed counting at least 5 kicks in an hour and sent me home.
After that, things got busy. It was Labor Day weekend and we were busy nearly every day since that appointment. The last few days before my next appointment were filled with the state fair and extremely busy work days. My appointments usually fell on Mondays, but because Monday was a holiday, we scheduled my appointment for that week on Thursday, since I work Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Wednesday was a weird day. A co-worker had unexpectedly passed away and Wednesday was the day of his funeral. And because I knew I'd be gone for that, I went in to the office early to get a head start on the days work. After the funeral, I went back to the office and ended up working until about 9:30 that night (which is totally unusual for me) to get everything squared away at work. That whole day (and for a couple days prior) I just wasn't feeling normal. I had a naseous feeling similar to my version of morning sickness, and was having more persistent contractions than I had been having. In a way, I wondered if I'd be having our baby early... I know that with Logan I was in the hospital the day before I went into labor with decreased movements too, which I heard was normal as the baby gets ready for it's big debut. That Wednesday night, after coming home late from work, I had a major contraction before going to bed. I remember telling Randy to feel my belly, which was hard as a rock at the time. "Food for thought at tomorrow's appointment" I figured.
The next morning I had the hardest time waking up. I was exhausted. I took a shower and thew on the most comfortable clothes I owned. (picture to the left is one that Logan snapped with our camera that morning...) I still wasn't feeling the best but got Logan ready and we were on our way... We ended up going to the Eden Prairie office this time to see my doctor since she wasn't at our usual clinic on Thursdays. I was 35 weeks to the day that day. They brought us to our room and my doctor soon came in. She flipped through my chart and noted that she saw I had been in for a non-stress test and asked how I was feeling now. She said "I'll hook you up right here and now if you're still not comfortable with how she's moving." I was SO in denial. I told her that the other doc said I was fine and had accepted that, but maybe we could get hooked up after the rest of the appointment. She agreed and grabbed the doppler to listen to baby's heartbeat. She had a hard time finding it and asked if I was feeling her move. I told her that I felt her up high earlier that morning (which I now know was just pressure, not movement). She finally picked up on a beat, but it was really soft sounding. I asked if it was normal to be that faint sounding, but I don't even remember what she said. Before I knew it, she was requesting an ultrasound right then and there and I was left to wait. The weirdest thing was that I was pretty calm and not anticipating the news we were about to get AT ALL (which I have a theory on and will talk about later). The sonographer (this time the Eden Prairie clinic's) soon came and got me. I crawled up on the table and she started out high on my belly. First thing she saw was her head and said "uh oh... that's not good... her head is up!" She then moved the doppler down only for a split second and then draped the doppler over my belly and was basically out the door as she muttered something about my doctor wanting to be there to watch... It wasn't until the second or two before they came back, that it hit me that the situation wasn't good. I desperately said the quickest little prayer in my head, pleading with Heavenly Father that it would all be ok. After they returned, they whispered a few things as we all sat there looking at the screen. Then, the worst words were said... my doctor turned to me and said "I'm sorry - I'm going to try and say this without crying..." as her eyes welled up with tears. She didn't need to say another word. I knew. I cried out. I wanted it to just be a bad dream. I wanted to take it all back and do it over. I wanted to have my little girl... Poor little Logan was there watching Little Einsteins on the ipod and looked up with the most innocent expression, saying "Mommy, what happened?" I didn't have the heart to tell him. My doctor and the sonographer both hugged me and tried to comfort me. All I remember is that I kept replaying the past few days in my head. "But I just had a NST test and the doc said we were fine!" and "We were supposed to have our appt. on Monday...if we would have, we could have saved her!" I was seriously sick. This couldn't be happening! Things like this don't happen to me! I'm in no way prepared for this!They escorted me back to my room while they called Randy and told him to come as soon as possible. "Will he know what happened?" "Does he remember I'm at the Eden Prairie Clinic?" I still felt like I was dreaming. I just sat and held Logan in my lap, watching his movie as I tried to hold myself together for his sake. It made me even sicker to think about carrying a baby that was not alive. "How could I possibly deliver her?" I didn't think I could mentally handle that.
Soon Randy arrived. They let him in the room and quickly whisked Logan away to the nurses station so we could talk. I could tell in Randy's eyes that he knew. We sat and cried. I reeled over and over the past few days in my mind, trying to make sense of it all. I told him how scared I was and in that room we decided to say a prayer. I have no idea what was said, but it made me feel better. My doctor soon returned and we talked about options. She said I either had the option to deliver right away, or go home and digest the news, and then schedule a delivery in a couple of days. I knew right away I wanted to get it done and over with. It was a really weird feeling to be so excited about my growing belly and then when I knew she was gone, my belly felt "different". It wasn't like I knew it to be.... I told my doc that I didn't know how I was emotionally going to get through the delivery. The only way a mother handles childbirth is to have a baby in her arms when all is said and done... I asked for a C-section. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up when it was over, but she talked me out of that, saying it only complicated future pregnancies. I finally said "ok then. But I'm asking for every drug there is!"
We decided to leave one car at the clinic and drive home together. I was scheduled to go in to the hospital at 7pm that night. Logan fell asleep on the way home. I remember looking at him and realizing how peaceful he looked. It saddened me to think of how this event was going to change him forever. I wanted to shelter him from everything. I don't think we told him his sister "died" until after his nap. I needed time to muster up the courage and think about how to explain things in terms he could understand and accept. While he slept, Randy and I made our phone calls. We each called our moms first. I then called work, and then my friend, Miranda, who also experienced the loss of their baby, Austin, at 24 weeks. I told her I didn't know what to do and so any advice would be helpful.
When we got home, we put Logan to bed and I layed on the couch and tried to sleep through all the sobbing. My phone kept dinging with texts from Miranda regarding what to bring to the hospital (a camera, an outfit, etc.). I finally fell asleep for a short while. When I woke up, my parents had arrived and I was feeling some better, despite the fact that I was downright depressed. I didn't want to move from the couch at all. Randy did all of our packing. I couldn't even bring myself to come near the nursery.
Soon it was 6:30 and we were off to the hospital. We were just barely out of town, and Randy needed to stop for gas. I felt like I was going to throw up. I had a hand on the door handle just in case. I sat and looked at all the people going about their normal business and wished I could trade places with them. I would have rather been anywhere but in my shoes at that time. I tried to pull myself together for the rest of the trip. When we pulled in to the parking lot and in the sliding doors to the hospital, I couldn't help but be reminded of our trip just a couple of weeks earlier to have our hospital tour. If I only had known then that I'd be coming in to deliver under THESE circumstances...." I thought. We got brought up to our room and very soon afterwards, our bishop came to visit. Only a few minutes later, and our bishop from the Plymouth Ward arrived too! One of our biggest blessings was having them there at that moment. That, by far, was our most vulnerable and weakest moment and they were there - and they brought the spirit with them. We talked all night - partly about the circumstance, but mostly about other things, and that was just what we needed: support and a distraction. In fact, they stayed until midnight, when Kristi from Missing Grace came. Before they left, however, they gave me a priesthood blessing of comfort and I knew at that point, that things were going to be ok....
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