Three Years

Today marks the three year anniversary of Donna Rose's death and birth. Some of the details fade, but some remain so clear in my mind. I remember walking down the stairs the evening before and telling Ben that our plans for the evening were changing, that I needed to go to the hospital rather than bible study. I remember how worried the ultrasound tech seemed, even though I wasn't shown the ultrasound until after the doctor arrived. I remember how truly AWFUL it seemed to me that the hospital would offer to "terminate" my baby. And that was a decision I was given, not once but twice. I remember how difficult it was for me when I had been flown down to Denver and Ben was still on the road, how the doctors wanted me to make life and death decisions and I wanted to talk to Ben, but couldn't reach him because I didn't know his phone number and he had MY phone and wasn't answering it. I remember picking the option with the best mathematical odds. I remember the doctor telling me that if I went into labor, they wouldn't do anything to stop it. I remember calling my parents and hearing my mother's voice for the first time since I told my dad that I was pregnant. I remember the awful peace I had when I knew that I was having contractions and that my baby was not going to live beyond the day. I remember feeling so helpless and being so grateful for the pain because it was easier to deal with the physical hurt than the emotional hurt of losing my little girl. I remember someone telling me they could see my little girl kick as she was being born (she was breach) though I don't remember who. I remember being told she was stillborn because her heart wasn't beating and I would never get to hold her in my arms while she was alive. I remember the wonderful nurse (I wish I knew her name) who took pictures of Donna Rose for Ben and me so that we would always have precious memories.  She posed Donna Rose so that she looked like she was sleeping. I remember getting a call from Medicaid telling me that I had finally been approved, and having to tell them that I was losing the baby. I remember holding Donna Rose for the last time, how cold she was. I remember going to the funeral home and how compassionate the gentleman was when we explained our situation. I remember Ben making the decision to have our daughter cremated. I hated the idea of having my daughter burnt and knowing that I could never hold her again, but we couldn't stand the thought of leaving her behind if we moved. There are so many other memories, but I will save them for another time. Happy Angelversary, my dear daughter! Daddy and I miss you very much.

Once more

My Dear Daughter,

Here we are coming up on the second anniversary of your birth and death. It's still very painful for your daddy and me. Two years ago today, I went into the ER in Greeley, a little bit worried because of spotting, but never dreaming that it could mean your death. I remember the worried looks from the nurses and doctors. I remember the cold helicopter ride to Denver. And I remember the pain of everything that happened the next day there. In a couple of years, we will have to explain to your little brother why October 28 is such a special day. I remember so many things about that day clearly. I remember talking to your Grandma Donna on the phone. I remember the sheer exhaustion from being up all night. I remember the pain and the mental numbness of that night. I remember the sense of dread, knowing that I wouldn't get to take my baby home with me. I remember holding you for the first time and how very tiny you were. I remember marveling over how perfectly formed you were. I remember your body heaving in my hands as though you were trying to breathe, but the doctors said your heart had stopped before you were born. I remember dressing you in the little clothes they gave us and wrapping you in the blanket someone had made for you. What a blessing to us was the care that someone took to make clothes and blankets for an angel they would never meet. I remember crying with your daddy. I remember talking to your Aunt Miranda on the phone and the heartbreak in her voice when I told her you wouldn't make it. I remember feeling like I had to comfort her because she sounded so much sadder than I did, but the finality of your death hadn't hit yet. And I remember talking to your Aunt Beth, though I don't remember what she had to say.

I think your daddy and I are learning to live around our grief pretty well. Fewer things make us sad and we can rejoice in the miracle of your short life now. However, we miss you deeply and your absence causes us both a deep pain. As long as we live, you will never be forgotten.

Love always,

Mommy

A letter to my daughter

Dear Donna Rose,

Right now, I am sitting in a hospital room waiting for your little brother to decide when he wants to come. This hospital room is only a little like the room they put me in when you were born. It's a much smaller room, but that's not a bad thing. The only people in here most of the time are the nurses and me. Sometimes the doctor comes by to have a chat and your daddy comes to visit when he isn't working. In your hospital room, There were at least three doctors and two nurses all the time. I was attached to monitors all the time and stuck in bed. Here, they attach monitors every 8 hours and check your brother's heart beat every 4 hours or so. I can't help but compare the differences between then and now. We were so sad in that room. In here, I have some roses your daddy gave me and one of our Donna Bears so that you will always be a part of your brother's life. Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I remember how hard last year's Mother's Day was. In church, they asked all mothers to stand up and I didn't know if that included me or not. I certainly didn't feel like a very GOOD mother. The ladies in church made me stand up too and I cried. Your daddy and I think about you all the time. We miss you so very much and wish you were here with us getting ready for your little brother to come.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Donna Rose

My dear daughter,

It seems that mommy will have more time to write to you these days.  The doctor decided that we need to be cautious with your little brother and has put me on bed rest for the next three months. I'm hoping this works out and that your little brother grows to full term before he is born.  Reading my baby books makes me think of you.  I never got to this point in pregnancy with you, but my books are now talking about labor and delivery.  It reminds me of the day we lost you.  I remember the painful contractions and how they hurt more and more the further I got along.  I remember allowing them to give me stronger and stronger medications to ease the pain because I was hurting so much emotionally that I couldn't handle more pain on top of it.  I remember finally falling asleep after they gave me the epidural and then waking up when the pain got to be too much for the epidural to ease.  I remember the sensation of my water breaking and how short a time it took for you to be born after that.  I remember holding your precious little body for the first time.  You were already gone, but we needed to touch you and to see you. I remember the pain in your daddy's face. I remember dressing you in the clothing they gave us for you. I remember marveling over the perfection of your tiny body.  I remember how your arms and legs seemed so long, just like your daddy. I remember your tiny, perfect fingers with their finger nails.  I remember the kind nurse who took pictures of you for us. I remember being moved to a recovery room and your daddy going to get tamales and ice cream.  The owner of the tamale place prayed for us with your daddy. I remember holding your cold body one last time before we left the hospital.  It was so hard to know I could never hold you again. I'd held you for 5 months inside me, and now I'd never get to hold you any more. I listened to your memorial service again this week. Your daddy found the CD as we were packing up stuff to move yet again. I scrambled last minute to find scripture and songs for the service.  The church played every song I suggested and read every scripture I had picked. I love you so much, Donna Rose.  I will always remember.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Donna Rose

My dearest Donna Rose,

Oh how I miss you. It hardly seems possible that it has been more than a year since I carried you inside me. Now, with your little brother or sister living there, I am reminded of what it was like to have you inside me, to feel you move.

I picked up my copy of "Oh Baby, the places you'll go!" yesterday to read to your sibling. I remember reading it to you with so much love. I had no idea the place you would go included heaven and that the wonderful friends you would meet would not include your daddy and me. I wept through the last pages.

I find that I can't sing to your sibling without a tremor in my voice because I remember the songs I sang to you. Your song was "Lida Rose" from The Music Man, but I always sang it as Donna Rose. That used to be one of my favorite movies, but now I can't watch it without crying.

My life is very different from what it was before you came. There are some very good changes, but also some things that I wish weren't so. I'm so glad I have your daddy. He's the very best part of my life. Your grandpa and grandma (my mommy and daddy) are so good to us too and you have lots of loving aunts and uncles who are sad they never got to meet you.

I'm a lot more fearful than I used to be. When I carried you, I didn't worry very much about the aches and pains. My body was changing for the first time. It was stretching to fit you inside. I worried about school, I worried about the future, but I never worried about you until the day we lost you. With your brother/sister, every ache scares me. Every pain screams "you could lose this baby too!" I am not so innocent anymore. It bothers me to see clueless, happy pregnant women. I want to warn them that you're never safe from losing your baby. Sometimes I really have to bite my tongue. I'm getting better at that, though. People get very offended if you suggest that pregnancy isn't just a walk in the park and a joyful thing.

I am hoping that I continue to grow this year. I hope it gets easier to be joyful and less easy to be terrified. I am hoping that your brother/sister will grow to full term and have a chance to live outside my womb. I still have so much growing to do.

I love you, Donna Rose. I wish I could watch you grow and live.

Love,

Mommy

One Year

It's been one year since we held you,
One year since we saw your precious face.
One year since we named you.
One year since we left you in that place.

One year since we stroked your tiny
Hands and feet and kissed your little head.
One year since we planned your service
After the doctors declared you dead

It's been one year since we traded
Our hopes and our dreams for a small box,
A plaster, a picture packet
Our hearts felt as heavy as huge rocks.

It's been one whole year without you
One year without our own Donna bear
A year full of grief and of sorrow
One year,more than your lifetime, unfair
      

Right Now

Today, you should be 6 months old.

You should be rolling all over the place.

You should be making your daddy run after you.

You should be smiling, giggling, and making cute sounds.

You should be eating soft foods, like cereal and 'nanas.

You should be playing on your back with toys hanging on a baby gym

But instead, you're spending the time in Heaven. You've been there a little more than 10 months, my dear. Perhaps you're starting to uncurl your baby wings. Maybe the angels sing you to sleep at night. And perhaps Jesus holds you and hugs you because Mommy can't just yet. It's so hard, my dear, to be left behind. There are days when I would give anything to change places with you because having you gone just hurts so much. Your daddy and I miss you and think about you every day. I wish we could see what you are like. How you grow and develop, if people do that kind of thing in Heaven. I love you, my little rose. 

How I'm feeling

Forgive me for turning away when you announced that you have a brand new baby in your life. I can't help it. Part of me is very happy for you, but a lot of me was hurt by your announcement. You see, I should have been able to announce MY brand new baby last March, but in October something dreadful happened. No one knows why. My baby was born too soon, and so I never got to take her home. All these firsts that you are experiencing, I didn't get to do. I had barely begun to feel her kick inside me before she was gone. I had to leave her at the hospital knowing I would never get to see her again. I kissed her tiny cold head and said goodbye. I will never see her first smile. I will never see her first step. I will never send her off to school for the first time, or help her pack to go to college. I will never see her first communion or her baptism. So, yes I am happy for you. But I'm also very devastated for me.

A Cloud

A cloud of darkness surrounds my heart making me weep.

So cruel, the loss of hopes I held most dear,

Over and over again, despite my attempts to steel myself,

To harden my heart.

Yet cruel hope springs up to entertain dreams of joy.

Then as it is dashed, it plunges me to despair, deep and dark.

The injustice of it angers me.

Why, when my heart could be so full of love,

Am I denied that which would receive it

And make it grow?

While others starve the ones around them,

Keeping all their care for themselves,

Why are those who need my love taken from me?

My Dear daughter,

I miss you so much. You should have been 4 months old yesterday. I keep thinking that now would have been a good time for a four generations picture with My grandma Gracie, your grandma Donna, you, and me. But they never got the chance to meet you, to see you, or hold you. You ought to be a chubby baby right now, so cute in your swim suit, going to the pool with Grandpa Art and your daddy and cuddling with your Grandma Donna. It makes me so sad that you never got the chance to do any of that.

It is so unfair that I didn't get to keep you and there are women out their who neglect or abuse their babies. And women who have baby after baby so they can stay on welfare. I'm beginning to despair of ever having children. Month after month goes by and I can't seem to produce a brother or sister for you. You have lots of cousins and I'm sure you'll have many more. I hope that will do for you, sweet princess. Mommy is getting tired and old and doesn't have much hope left.

Love,

Mommy

Spring Grief

Today Ben and I took his father to Fort Collins to view an apartment. On our way back, I saw a woman pushing her baby in a stroller over to a park close to our home. It kicked me in the gut. I should be that lady now. I should be taking my baby for walks on beautiful days like today. I should be fussing over making her comfortable in her stroller and keeping her booties on her precious little feet. I should be chattering away at her as I clean my kitchen and make dinner for her daddy. I should be singing to her to sooth her crying. She never got the chance to cry and I never got the chance to sooth her.

Normally, when I write in my blog, I am upset about something. I come to write because I'm marking a day of significance in Donna Rose's short life or because something I saw made me angry because my daughter isn't here or because I'm feeling her loss keenly. Today, I felt I should write about the way I have been feeling lately.

I will never forget my daughter. I will never wish that she wasn't here with me now. Right now I'm in a place of acceptance. The pain is like a tide at ebb. I know my daughter is gone. I miss her, but I am learning to live around her absence. I am functioning for the other things that have meaning in my life.

More pressing in my thoughts are my school, my students, and my husband (not necessarily in that order.) I'm also thinking about future plans. My husband has been telling me that he wants to move to South Dakota eventually, so I am doing my best to get us there sooner rather than later. I'm thinking about my friends and their problems which are more pressing than my own.

I'm also supporting my husband in his battles against injustice. Because this is tax month, my husband and I knew we were going to be short on cash and were going to struggle to put food on the table, so we applied for food stamps and ever since we've been battling with the department of human services. It seems that hard working tax payers cannot get help when they need it because the system is too busy serving lazy bums, drug dealers and illegal immigrant. It makes us very angry that our taxes fund programs like this which punish people who are trying to better themselves so they don't need to rely on the system and rewards people who abuse the system. Ben also battles with utility providers who make mistakes on our bills, though most of the time they are more willing to work with us to fix problems than government programs.

Can't sleep

When my husband suggested we go to bed more than an hour ago, I knew tonight was going to be another of those nights. He is snoring beside me and I can't seem to get myself to sleep. So many things today reminded me of how things were supposed to be right now. I am supposed to be awake and restless because my baby wants to nurse. I am supposed to be changing poopy diapers and bathing my sweet little one. Yet another friend posted a pregnant picture. She is 27 weeks along, past the magic viability mark. It felt like being jabbed with a pin. She looks so radiant and happy. There is no trace of fear that something might go wrong. I feel horrible for hating her right now because I didn't get to experience that and never will. I know that if my husband and I do manage to conceive again, there will always be fear for me that something will go wrong. I know I will be tempted to keep a pregnancy secret as long as possible just because of fear. But at least Ben and I are not letting fear hold us back.

Dear Donna Rose

My darling daughter,

You're going to be tired of me telling you how much I miss you and how much I wish that I could hold you and nurture you and watch you grow. This week, your daddy decided you should not be alone on our memorial shelf for you, so he brought up your grandmother's ashes and put them next to yours. I never knew your Grandma Sophie, but your daddy tells me she was a wonderful lady. It made your daddy cry. In some ways, he has lost his past and part of his future so all that remains is the present. You were so small, darling, so fragile and innocent. We will never forget you and how you changed our lives.

Love,

Mommy

Candles for Donna Rose

A tiny beacon glows down here, a little spark of light.

It pierces through the atmosphere and twinkles in the night.

A candle lit in memory of our own Donna Rose.

Our candle burns throughout the day, though many do not see

You're in our hearts in the same way, a secret mystery

You burn inside our memory, our darling Donna Rose.

Our friends each light a candle too. They sympathize because

They know how much we both miss you, so each of them will pause

To light a little candle just to honor Donna Rose.

My Soul Screamed

What happens when a piece of you is ripped away? Last October, this happened to me. My soul screamed. It cried in heavy anguish, "My baby! My baby!" just as in Mathew it says

"In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping [for] her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not."

So my soul cries since last October. Sometimes my heart's anguish is tempered. I can laugh on occasion. I can enjoy. BUT a piece of me is missing, and every now and again, the rip on my soul pulls wide open and I cry again "My baby! My baby!"

New Terminology

Since Donna Rose earned her wings, I've entered a society with new terminology. Brand new terms that I would never have thought of before she was gone. Below are a few of the terms I've learned.

Angel Baby - An infant who has died

Angel Mommy - A mother who's child has died

Angel Daddy - A father who's child has died

Angelversary - The anniversary of the day your child died

Cerclage - An incredibly painful procedure to sew the cervix shut to prevent miscarriage

CHD - Congenital Heart Defect

DBL - Dead Baby Land

Earned His/Her Wings - A reference to the death of a baby

BLM - Baby Loss Momma

BLP - Baby Loss Parent

Broken Heart - Intense, sometimes overwhelming feeling of grief

Death - The adversary we fought who beat us.

Fly High (baby name) - An expression of sympathy

Grief - The normal state of being for a BLM or Angel Daddy

Heaven - The place where our baby waits for us to come hold her (him)

Miscarriage - Losing a baby before 20 weeks of gestation

NICU - Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit

Pain - A piercing, agonizing feeling which crops up at the most inconvenient time.

Rainbow Baby - The first child born (and surviving) after the death of an infant

Stillbirth - Losing a baby after 20 weeks of gestation but before he/she is born

Strength - Having a good support system, because while people tell us we are strong, we are really very vulnerable and weak.

Sympathy - An attempt by people who have never been through baby loss to understand. Often is misguided and causes more pain to BLPs

TTC - Trying to conceive

A Valentine Letter

Dear Donna Rose,

Happy Valentine's Day, my tiny. I hope heaven is treating you well. I'm sure you're making lots of friends with the other angel babies up there. Your father and I miss you very much. We only had you here for a very short time, but you are always in our hearts.

Daddy was so excited for Valentine's Day three weeks ago that he gave me two Valentine cards right away. They made us both laugh. Then this morning, he woke me up before he went to class, telling me he needed help with something downstairs and gave me a big box of chocolates. I nearly cried. Your daddy is a very generous man, my dear.

Both of us have a lot of sad days right now. We try to keep each other happy, but songs, movies, TV shows, and pictures on FaceBook have a way of needling at us until all we can do is cry. We are trying to be strong and heal because we know that you're happy where you are and that Jesus is taking very good care of you, but we miss you, Donna Bear.

Last Saturday your daddy and I renewed our wedding vows. I think we wanted everyone to see that we REALLY meant what we said on the day we were married. My grandma and uncle came out for the ceremony and your Grandpa Tim was there. The church was very kind in welcoming them all and I think they felt very loved.

I miss you, my little rose.

Love,

Mommy

Donna's story

My husband and I met on the internet on a social networking site. I was engaged to someone else at the time and I appreciated that he didn't hit on me, so we became friends. When I broke up with that other gentlemen, Ben offered to fill the text-messaging void left in my life, and so we grew closer. And then one day we were in the middle of a text message conversation and I had to do something with my hands, so I called him to finish the conversation. It entirely floored him, which made me laugh. Ben and I decided it was a good idea to meet in person. At the time, he was living nearly 300 miles away from me. He tried twice to come up and visit me, but his car broke down and he wasn't able to come to me. So eventually, I made it down to see him. I had never met anyone so gorgeous who was interested in me. You could say it was love at first sight. We've barely spent any time apart since that day. I spent as much time in his town with him as I could until he could move up with me.

One of the things we'd discussed online was our mutual desire to have children some day. We weren't being careful, so when my period was late last July, I knew that I was expecting. I took a pregnancy test right away and sure enough, it came back positive. Ben was so thrilled he was on the phone almost immediately telling people that we were looking for a larger apartment. I was a little more nervous. My family hadn't met Ben yet and I knew they would be upset with me for getting pregnant outside of wedlock. We waited some time to tell my parents after that, and I still feel guilty about the worry I felt over telling them.

My father's reaction was not what I expected. He was calm and complacent and told me to be happy. My mother hit the roof. And then the morning sickness was absolutely awful. I welcomed that, though, because to me, being sick meant that my pregnancy was healthy. Ben and I started planning our wedding and things seemed to be going well.

Then in late October, I had an abnormal pain in my abdomen. I was worried, but it wasn't until I started spotting that I really became concerned. I made Ben take me to the ER. They pulled out an ultrasound machine and told me that the amniotic fluid sack was protruding into my cervix. They thought that it was leaking, accounting for my spotting and they gave me three options. 1) Wait and see 2) Fly to Denver 3) Terminate. There was no way Ben or I would choose to terminate, we loved our little baby. Ben made the decision to have me flown to Denver.

The doctors at University hospital told me that my sack was NOT leaking, but that it was protruding and that we had three options. 1) Wait and see, 2) Attempt a procedure to push the amniotic fluid sack back and sew the cervix shut or 3) Terminate. They said chances of her surviving option 1 were slim. The chances of 2 working were 50-50. We'd already determined that option 3 was not an option for us. I chose option number 2.

While I was being transported and the doctors were examining me, Ben was getting things together and calling people to let them know that I was in the hospital and something was wrong. He called my sister to let her know things weren't going well and she called my parents. It took him several hours to join me in Denver, but once he was there he never left my side.

The doctors said that in order to do option 2, they needed to make certain that I didn't have an infection and that they could do this by taking a sample of the amniotic fluid and test it, but there was a risk that this would start labor and if labor started, they wouldn't stop it because most likely then there WAS an infection. They said that if I went into labor, she would not survive because it was too early for her lungs to be developed.

I called my parents to let them know what was going on. My mother answered and it was the first time I'd heard her voice since I told my parents I was pregnant. That was when she finally realized that my Ben was a good guy, because he stuck with me all through our ordeal and kept the family in the loop.

The doctors took a sample of amniotic fluid (Which REALLY hurt) and about half an hour later, contractions started. I had 12 grueling hours of labor, knowing that my little baby wouldn't make it. Our pastor came down while I was in labor and prayed with us. He was there when my water broke. They delivered Donna Rose, determined that her heart wasn't beating, cleaned her up a little and placed her in my arms.

Since that time, Ben and I have grown even closer. He's been amazingly strong and such a comfort to me. Our wedding was three days before Christmas. We think our little girl would be pleased that her mommy and daddy are clinging to each other trying to get through all this.

Poems for Donna Rose

For Her

She tosses through the night in broken sleep

No comfort does she find, no sweet repose

There is no help for her in counting sheep

For she can only dream of Donna Rose

The emptiness consumes her as she weeps

Her troubled mind is full of all her woes

Her broken heart a steady rhythm keeps

In honor of her darling Donna Rose

No sound she makes, no whisper, not a peep

Her silent tears she struggles to compose

Her memory, a jumbled, painful heap

And full of only thoughts of Donna Rose

She's overwhelmed for she did not suppose

That she could ever lose her Donna Rose.

December 12, 2010

Death reared his ugly head and looked me in the eye.

"The thing you cherish most is mine. It is no use to try.

I've come to steal your joy. I've come to dim your light.

I've come to magnify your pain and fill your soul with fright."

He took from me what I regarded as most dear

He pierced my soul clear through with his most cruel spear

He bruised my weakened heel and battered me about

He grasped my faith candle and tried to blow it out.

But with each breath he spent, the flame grew ever higher

In trying to dim my faith, he wrestled my messiah

Though I had little strength, he could not overcome

For God became my rock, my shelter and my home.

And Height and depth and death are powerless when faced

With God, his all surpassing love, his mercy and his grace

Donna Rose

Darling child, my precious little rose

Once I held you close within my womb

Now, my Lord has drawn you ever close

Never once were you allowed to bloom

Always to be claimed by death's repose

Restless here, I long to see my babe

Observe your life as you mature and grow

See your tiny hands, your precious face

Embrace you, love you, never let you go