Birth Part 2~ Joy & Sorrow

Today has officially been 4 weeks to the day that Silas came and left. It was important to me to add this part of his birth story today.  

I remember watching the ultrasound like it was yesterday. In fact, this entire pregnancy and every moment that I had with Silas still feels like it happened yesterday. They are moments in time that have been exquisitely carved into my heart. They are now a deep part of me that I will never lose or let go of. I remember how calm and at peace I felt as we were waiting for the ultrasound machine to warm up. I wasn't afraid because I could still feel Silas squirming and occasionally pushing himself up into my ribs. He was alive and for now, he was safe. The sonographer took her time and carefully looked at Silas, and so did I. As I watched, I inwardly prayed that this wouldn't be the last time I would see him alive. She took several pictures of his numerous medical issues. We were finally going to see what he would look like in person and that brought excitement along with anxiety. I never knew that it was possible to experience such joy and sorrow simultaneously. There is an eagerness that comes with knowing you will soon meet your child, and with that eagerness joyfulness follows. Hand in hand, joy and excitement skip through your heart and together they ignite a mother's love even more than what was already there. Lingering closely behind them is a dark, heavy sorrow just lurking and waiting for the opportune time to attack and smother all the excitement and light out of joy. Joy knows it is there, stalking her and wanting to smother her, but she doesn't care. She knows her time will be over soon... She accepts it. She doesn't know that sorrow is quickly leading the way for desolation to take over.

When the ultrasound was over the doctor told us all we had to do now was wait. So, we did just that. I made a decision early on that I would opt out of having any fetal monitoring. If I had to listen to his poor little heart rate drop or even stop during labor, well, I'm not sure I would have been able to live through that. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I made because I became so focused on Silas and his movements that I didn't need a monitor to tell me how he was doing. Everything around me slowly disappeared and it was just him and I trying to live through this difficult moment, together as one. As long as I could feel him, we were okay.

Again, we found ourselves surrounded by our loved ones and we sat around and waited. I wish I remembered more about this time, but I was in a fog. I was just focusing on my precious boy and his movements. Somewhere in the midst of  the conversation around me, my water broke. That was the cue for everyone to leave the room. Karl scurried out behind them to grab the nurse and when they walked back in, I was slightly panicking. Mostly I was just in shock at the amount of fluid there was. It was significantly more than I had anticipated and I could finally understand why my body couldn't handle it. I understood why my body had let me down. Immediately after the nurse came in, my doctor followed. I wasn't ready to push yet so he sat next to me on the small couch and just waited with us and didn't leave my side. Everyone around me was quiet and patient. Our room was filled with a calmness that you wouldn't expect in a situation like ours, yet there it was. The lights where kept fairly dim and the room was relatively quiet, only occupied by a handful of people. I looked over at my doctor and calmly told him that I was ready. He came around my bed and sat on the edge next to me and our nurse came to my other side. I remember watching Karl start to pace a little bit and his nerves seemed to be getting the best of him. He quickly ended up at my side to hold my hand, and there we all were focused on Silas, and only Silas.

I still felt Silas moving right before I started pushing. It was the last bit of encouragement I needed to get through this. I took a few deep breathes before my next contraction hit. As I started to push, my doctor was encouraging and guiding me, but eventually I had stopped listening. I couldn't feel Silas anymore. Just like that... from one moment in time to the next, I couldn't feel him. Again, I found myself inwardly begging and pleading to God... Please don't let this be it. Please God. Please let Silas be okay. I need my baby, my son, to be okay. This was the sorrow trying to stifle out my joy. Before I could beg or plead one last time Silas was born into this world. Not kicking and screaming like the other babies at the hospital that day, but silent, still, and peaceful. It took the doctor a second to figure out how to cut his very unique umbilical cord and then he gently placed Silas in my arms. He respectfully pointed out a few of the issues that had been visible on the ultrasound and he laid his hand over Silas's chest to check his heartbeat. While this was happening, everything around me faded away and all I could do in that moment was focus on Silas.

Breathe, baby breathe, please baby breathe... Please just one breath, Mommy loves you and needs you to breathe! PLEASE...

There I was, holding this beautiful human being, and the rest of the world ceased to exist. There I was, inwardly begging again. There he was, more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. There he was, in my arms without ever taking a single breath. There was sorrow, running hand in hand with desolation through my heart. There was death, making itself ever so present. There was nothing I could do and yet so much I wanted to do. I would have given my last breath to see Silas take his first. I wanted to save him from death, but there was not a single thing I could have done to help him escape it. Despite the overwhelming sorrow, joy still remained. Joy stayed because I knew I was blessed to be his mother and I mothered him the best I could in the small time I was given. Joy stayed in my heart because in the end we got what we wanted... Silas never suffered, he never knew pain, and all he ever knew was love. Love will never fail us; it always prevails. That love is what allowed joy to remain in my heart.

After the nurse took his measurements and footprints, she offered to clean him up. I politely declined and told her that I wanted to do it myself. I would never have another chance to bathe my child so I needed to do this. Together Karl and I bathed him, slowly and methodically. It was beautiful. We dressed him and swaddled him in a special blanket. The nurse offered a tiny knit preemie hat to put on him, but again I politely declined. I had made a tiny gray hat for him and it fit perfectly. We took turns holding Silas and loving him before inviting our family back in the room.

My eyes were fixated on him and only him. I tried to absorb every possible detail about his physical appearance that I could because I knew I would never see him again once this day was gone. Silas looked so much like his big brother did when he was born; he had a button nose and full head of hair. I kept caressing his cheeks. His skin was warm and soft and I kissed him ever so gently. I kept telling him that I loved him. I never wanted to let him go. The world may have thought he was imperfect, and I heard a lot about the things wrong with him while I carried him, but no one ever told me how beautiful he was going to be. To me, he was perfect. No one told me that his birth would turn out to be the most beautiful birth I could have imagined. No one told me he was going to change my life forever. No one told me that there could be immense beauty in moments such as these. 

To be continued... 

The last part of Silas's birth story is about saying goodbye. 

This is the most difficult part to write and talk about and deserves a post of its own.

Birth Part 3    Birth Part 1

Birth Part 1 ~ Every thing is going to be all right

The morning of August 19th is one I will never forget. I woke up from a dream that left me feeling vulnerable and scared. I told my husband that I needed his affection as he was getting ready to head to work. He came over, hugged me longer than usual, and kissed me goodbye. I needed to know that his love was there when I felt shaken and scared. I kept repeating to myself, it was a silly dream... let it go. So I pulled myself out of bed and got ready to face another day.

Call it intuition or what have you, something just didn't feel right...

I had my first contraction around 8:30 in the morning, but it was weak and I tried to tell myself it's not a labor contraction... you are fine! This is not how it happens... not today!  So, I drove Ezra to school and kissed him goodbye and squeezed him extra tight, because somehow I knew... I was in denial, but a part of me knew. I knew this would be the day that all we have been preparing and waiting for would be put to the test. Nevertheless, no matter how much you think you can prepare yourself... you cannot be prepared for the death of your child. You can read every book and every blog, you can read every medical journal, and you can talk to every parent that has been down this road to try to prepare yourself for what is about to happen, but how can you prepare to say hello and goodbye to your child at the same time?

I came home and decided to shower and try to relax because I could feel my anxiety rising as another contraction hit, and another. I was so scared and my strength was being put to the ultimate test. I took a moment to calm myself and talk to Silas. I told him I loved him and I was lucky to be his Momma. I told him that everything was going to be okay. "Everything is going to be all right"... this became our mantra. I sang him a happy song, "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley. "Don't worry about a thing; 'Cause every little thing is gonna be all right."

Contractions kept coming, but were still weak, irregular, and would subside when I was relaxing so I thought it was just false labor. I decided to make sure we were ready and had everything we needed should it be time. I made sure Ezra had clean clothes, the kitchen was clean, and our hospital bag was packed with the things we needed for Silas. This was my last effort to remain in control over what was happening because a part of me knew, while the other part remained in denial. There had been many "signs" (or maybe they were all crazy coincidences) that day that I tried not to ignore. I wanted to be ready, I wanted to listen to these signs, but I was still incredibly scared of all the unknown. Would we be meeting Silas soon? Would he live minutes, hours, months... if at all? Would he suffer or be in pain? Would he beat the odds? How will I get through this? How will my family get through this? 

I picked up my son from school, I called my husband, I called the doctor, I called my father-in-law who came to get Ezra, and before we knew it... Karl and I were headed to the hospital. A place we had just been the previous Friday. We had our meeting with the OB director to get an idea of what we could expect on Silas's birthday and what we wanted to happen when the time came. This meeting was one that brought us much comfort. Knowing that we would all be well taken care of and that those caring for us were compassionate and ready to stand by us as we braced ourselves for the unknown. This meeting was difficult but lightened my heavy heart. When it was over, the OB director gave us a warm hug and we parted ways hoping not to see each other again until October 17th.

Her face was the first that we saw as we entered the birthing center that Tuesday. I was relieved to see her, a familiar face. She was not relieved to see us, but as promised, she was ready for us. We were quickly put in an exam room and the nurse manager came in to take care of us. She simply was the best person for this job and little did I know then that she would become someone I will never forget. It was a little after 3 in the afternoon and by this time contractions were regular and slightly stronger than they had been in the morning. I was 4 cm dilated and almost completely effaced. We were staying. This was it. It was happening now.

They moved us to a small room and I remember just praying that it would stop and we could all go home the same way we came. Silas in the safety of my womb and Karl by my side, holding my hand. Inwardly I begged and pleaded. It was still too early for Silas. I could still feel him moving and I knew, like me, he wasn't ready either. I wasn't in labor because he was ready, I was in labor because my body mistakenly thought it was time. There was so much extra amniotic fluid that my body thought it was time. My worst nightmare was coming true, the thing I had feared the most since the diagnosis was happening.

As the afternoon faded to evening, we had some wonderful company. Karl's parents and my pseudo parents along with our first miracle, Ezra, helped pass the time and reminded us that we weren't alone in this. We were surrounded by love and warmth, and I am eternally grateful to those who were at our side.

It wasn't until around 10 pm that Karl and I were alone. After everyone had gone, I told Karl I needed to get out of bed for a minute because the contractions were making me uncomfortable. I put both feet on the ground and stood. Then it hit me...contractions so strong and painful that I had to relinquish any hope that this wasn't really happening. They hit like a tidal wave quickly and forcefully knocking me off my feet, harshly reminding me that I was not in control. I couldn't stop what was happening. So again, just like when we got the diagnosis, I took a deep breath and... Let go. We were about to meet our precious baby boy. I wasn't afraid anymore because with the wave of reality came a wave of strength. I just rubbed my tummy and swayed while repeating our mantra "everything is going to be all right."

We were moved into a large birthing room and my contractions were 2 minutes apart and very strong. Our nighttime nurse, who I also will never forget, was sure that with any contraction my water was going to break and we would soon hold our second born son in our arms. I was in full-blown labor. I was in a lot of pain, I was shaking uncontrollably, and I was vomiting. This was not the beauty you think of when people talk about giving birth. This was ugly, it was chaotic, and I wanted the world around me to stop so I could catch my breath. Finally, relief came with a small injection of local anesthetic into my back, followed by another needle to feed a catheter into the area around my spinal cord. Again, I could breathe and repeat everything is going to be all right...

It was past 1 o'clock in the morning and we called our family to let them know that they needed to come back. The pediatrician came in and talked with us about what Karl and I wanted for Silas and he was kind enough to sit and answer a few questions that our family had. He expressed how he agreed with our decisions and supported us 100%. It felt good to know that our doctors thought we were doing the right thing and we weren't making decisions we would later question and regret. He also told us that Silas's odds of survival were very low when we took into account all of his issues and him being 32 weeks gestation. The thing we wanted more than anything was that Silas wouldn't suffer or be in pain. We realized a while back that there was no medical intervention that would save him and as his parents we just wanted to love him no matter how brief his life. That wasn't about to change.

After the pediatrician left, I had lost track of time and was calming down from the relief of the epidural. The nurse checked me to see if there was any progression. Completely effaced, 6 cm dilated, but my water still had not broken and the amount of fluid  was causing Silas to float up and he could not put himself in the right position that would cause my water to break. She decided she wasn't going to check me anymore because she was very concerned that she was going to break my water if she did. So we waited through the night. 

Karl slept on the pull out couch next to my bed and my mother-in-law sat in the rocking chair in front of me all night. We tried to rest and sleep, but it was impossible. I was so exhausted from the events of the day that I would have been able to sleep if it wasn't for the horrific screams of a fellow mother in labor four rooms down. Screams of someone being tortured by the birth of a perfectly healthy baby. One that will be born into this world screaming just as loud as her mother. There would be no screaming mother in our room, no screaming baby either... just the keening of a bereaved mother. Our nurse was apologetic when I jokingly asked if L&D was always this loud at night, but she matched my sense of humor with her wit. "You know what they say... the way you sound during labor is the way you sound at conception!" I couldn't help but laugh. 

Morning crept in through the window as the sun rose. I remember looking out and thinking, this is the last sunrise before my world will forever change... no sunrise will ever be the same. Around 8 in the morning my doctor came in and ordered an ultrasound to check what position Silas was in. He was concerned that if he wasn't in the right position when my water broke it would cause a lot of problems, especially for me. An hour later, we were watching our sweet boy one last time. He was still hanging on and still fighting. The sonographer kindly printed out a few pictures for us to keep.
Silas wasn't in the best position, but his position was good enough that we didn't need to worry about him trying to come out sideways and having to have a C-section. It was only a matter of time now and again I repeated,

"Everything is going to be all right."

... To be continued.

 Click here to read Part 2

***All the photos here were taken by our NILMDTS photographer Melissa Jordan. She has given us a gift that we will cherish for a lifetime.