October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month and October 15 is pregnancy and infant loss awareness day. Every 20 minutes in America, a still born baby is born. Every minute a baby is born in America by miscarriage. Today, one thousand six hundred forty four American families will be impacted by miscarriage, and seventy one more will be impacted by still birth. One in four women will experience the pain and grief of a miscarriage or still birth. I am one in four. This is my story.
My baby died January 19, 2006. I was 16 weeks pregnant. Up until that point, my pregnancy was going great. My blood pressure was up a little, but nothing too major. I am certain I felt him move the night before. I had a routine OB appointment that day, and we were going to find out if we were having a boy or a girl.
When I gave my urine sample, I noticed a little bit of spotting. I was so scared. I tried convincing myself of all kinds of things to explain it away, But deep inside I think I knew how this was going to play out. We got called back into a room and I told the nurse about the blood. They brought in an ultrasound machine to check the baby. The doctor said the portable ultrasound machine really wasn't that great for that point in my pregnancy, and sent us across the hall to radiology. The thing is, they had used the exact same machine two weeks early to check something and it was fine then.
So we go across the hall for an ultrasound. I will never, ever forget what was on the screen. I didn't need the tech or doctor to tell me what it was. On the bottom of the screen was my baby. He wasn't moving. Imagine all the perfect ultrasound images you see on line. The ones with the big head and round belly, where you can see the hands and feet. That is what we saw. Only it wasn't a picture. He should have been moving around. As soon as I saw that he wasn't moving, I knew right away. The tech called the doctor in to confirm. He said he was sorry and he would talk to us more back in the exam room.
Carlos and I stood out in the hallway, holding each other and crying. I was devastated. I wanted that baby so much. I loved him with everything I had. There was nothing I wanted more than to bring that baby home to love him and care for him, and to make our family complete. I asked them if it was a boy or a girl. They said they couldn't tell from the ultrasound. I was given three options on how to proceed. I could be admitted right then and sent up to labor and delivery to have labor induced. I could have a D&C. Or I could go home and wait to go into labor on my own. All I wanted to do was go to bed and cry so I chose option 3.
Two days later, on January 21 2006, I went into labor. I wasn't expecting actual labor. I thought it would be like a heavy period, perhaps with a lot of clots. I wasn't expecting labor pains, my water breaking or seeing a perfectly formed baby at the end. All day I was having cramping in my back. It wasn't that bad and I really didn't know that was the start of labor. My first child was a c-section and I never had any labor pains, not even braxton hicks contractions. Around 3:00, we all laid down to take a nap. Carlos and Connor dozed a little and I watched the clock. The pains in my back were getting stronger and coming closer together. It still didn't occur to me that I was in labor. Like, actual labor and not just getting ready for the worst period of my life. The pains were coming every five minutes. I didn't really say anything to Carlos about it, because again, I didn't realize I would really go into labor.
Every time a pain hit, I would lean over whatever was closest, thinking if I could just stretch my lower back enough, the pain would stop. At one point, I called my mom and told her I was pretty sure I was dying. She asked a couple questions and then said you are in labor. That was when it finally hit me. I wasn't going to have a big period. I was in labor. I went to wake up Carlos to finally fill him in, and when I knelt down, I felt a pop and wetness. I was scared to stand up. I didn't know if my water broke, or if I was suddenly bleeding very heavily.
We decided to run a hot bath, thinking sitting in the hot water would ease the pain of the contractions. As soon as I sat down in the tub, I jumped right back up because I just felt the baby was coming. He slide right out. Remember, my first son was an emergency c-section. I had zero experience with labor and deliver. I had no idea what to expect. He slid out, and was just dangling still attached to the cord. At this point, I started bleeding pretty heavy. I called my mom again and she told me to call an ambulance. I was still having contractions, still bleeding, and still in a lot of pain. We debated if we should cut the cord or leave everything the way it was. Later the paramedics told me I would probably have bled out had we cut the cord. I always wanted a home water birth. I got one, only it was far different from what I always dreamed of. Be careful what you wish for.
From the time he came out, till the ambulance arrived, I was kneeling on my hands and knees in the bathroom, not knowing what to do. Right about the time the ambulance pulled in the driveway, the placenta came out. At this point I was finally able to really look at my baby. I was in awe of how perfect he was. I could count all his little fingers and toes. He had a nose, mouth and eyelids. He was a perfectly formed, tiny little baby. The only thing wrong with him was the top of his brain was exposed. The paramedics came in and helped get me dressed and we left for the hospital. They told Carlos to bring the "remains". Oh God how that killed me. It wasn't remains. It was my baby!
At the ER, we finally looked to see if we'd had a boy or a girl. It was a boy. We hadn't even discussed names or anything. Carlos suggested naming his baby after himself. It was perfect. It felt right. We named him Carlos Everett Walker III. The hospital tried to convince me to send his perfect little body off for genetic testing. If I did that, chances are we would not have found a reason for him dying and we wouldn't have gotten him back. I couldn't do it. A few days later, we buried our son. Carlos' uncle performed graveside rites. I read a poem. We said goodbye. It was only our parents and Carlos' uncle and his wife there.
I don't know why my baby had to die. I don't know why he couldn't stay with us. I do know I miss him. I miss him so much. I don't understand how I can miss somebody I never even got to meet. I never got to rock him, never got to nurse him, never got to do anything with him. I carried him under my heart for his entire life. I often wonder what he would be like. Would he look more like me, or more like his father? Would he like sports? What kind of boy would he have grown up to be? I look around at our little family, and think about how I should have three boys, ages 13, 10 and 7.
Little Carlos will live in my heart. One day I will see him again in heaven. Until then, a piece of my heart will always be missing. A part of me will always wonder what if?
Every time a pain hit, I would lean over whatever was closest, thinking if I could just stretch my lower back enough, the pain would stop. At one point, I called my mom and told her I was pretty sure I was dying. She asked a couple questions and then said you are in labor. That was when it finally hit me. I wasn't going to have a big period. I was in labor. I went to wake up Carlos to finally fill him in, and when I knelt down, I felt a pop and wetness. I was scared to stand up. I didn't know if my water broke, or if I was suddenly bleeding very heavily.
We decided to run a hot bath, thinking sitting in the hot water would ease the pain of the contractions. As soon as I sat down in the tub, I jumped right back up because I just felt the baby was coming. He slide right out. Remember, my first son was an emergency c-section. I had zero experience with labor and deliver. I had no idea what to expect. He slid out, and was just dangling still attached to the cord. At this point, I started bleeding pretty heavy. I called my mom again and she told me to call an ambulance. I was still having contractions, still bleeding, and still in a lot of pain. We debated if we should cut the cord or leave everything the way it was. Later the paramedics told me I would probably have bled out had we cut the cord. I always wanted a home water birth. I got one, only it was far different from what I always dreamed of. Be careful what you wish for.
From the time he came out, till the ambulance arrived, I was kneeling on my hands and knees in the bathroom, not knowing what to do. Right about the time the ambulance pulled in the driveway, the placenta came out. At this point I was finally able to really look at my baby. I was in awe of how perfect he was. I could count all his little fingers and toes. He had a nose, mouth and eyelids. He was a perfectly formed, tiny little baby. The only thing wrong with him was the top of his brain was exposed. The paramedics came in and helped get me dressed and we left for the hospital. They told Carlos to bring the "remains". Oh God how that killed me. It wasn't remains. It was my baby!
At the ER, we finally looked to see if we'd had a boy or a girl. It was a boy. We hadn't even discussed names or anything. Carlos suggested naming his baby after himself. It was perfect. It felt right. We named him Carlos Everett Walker III. The hospital tried to convince me to send his perfect little body off for genetic testing. If I did that, chances are we would not have found a reason for him dying and we wouldn't have gotten him back. I couldn't do it. A few days later, we buried our son. Carlos' uncle performed graveside rites. I read a poem. We said goodbye. It was only our parents and Carlos' uncle and his wife there.
I don't know why my baby had to die. I don't know why he couldn't stay with us. I do know I miss him. I miss him so much. I don't understand how I can miss somebody I never even got to meet. I never got to rock him, never got to nurse him, never got to do anything with him. I carried him under my heart for his entire life. I often wonder what he would be like. Would he look more like me, or more like his father? Would he like sports? What kind of boy would he have grown up to be? I look around at our little family, and think about how I should have three boys, ages 13, 10 and 7.
Little Carlos will live in my heart. One day I will see him again in heaven. Until then, a piece of my heart will always be missing. A part of me will always wonder what if?
