Nearly 2 weeks post loss, this is my story.
I found this sub never knowing that it existed before, and wishing I never related and understood the kind of pain one feels losing a child. Sorry for the long post, I just needed to share my story. Writing is therapeutic for me. I also wanted to share a picture of my sweet angel with people who wouldn't pester me with questions when I finally see them in person.
When I was 17 weeks, I decided to do the NIPT test. I didn't do it with my son, and he is a perfectly healthy 3 year old. I really just didn't want to wait to find out the gender. I got a call from my midwife saying the test came back with abnormal markers for Turner Sydrome. She told me it was a high risk, but not for certain, they sent me to the high risk office with a genetic counselor on sight.
At 20 weeks, I went to my scan. I knew what a healthy baby looked like, and could immediately tell something was wrong. Her heartbeat was extremely slow, she wasn't moving much, and there was fluid around her heart and lungs. There was hardly any amniotic fluid and a lot of fluid in her head. She was also measuring 3 weeks smaller than she should've.
They were able to get her heartbeat recorded for us when it returned to normal, and once she quit wiggling as soon as they were about to record. They told us just by the scan that they were certain she had Turner Sydrome and they were 90% certain she was completely missing an X chromosome based on the severity of her issues. We were told there was a 90% chance of her not making it to term, especially with what they suspected to be a major heart defect.
We left that appointment heartbroken but holding onto the littlest bit of hope. I held onto every little flutter, tried to make the best of the time we had. The last flutters I felt were on the Sunday before my appointment, just 5 days after my scan. My mom drove 9 hours the Friday after my scan so I wouldn't be alone for my next appointment since my husband had to work. My sister moved in the day before my midwife appointment since my mom was planning on going home and back to work after my appointment. At my midwife appointment, my mom with me, we learned that my baby girl no longer had a heartbeat. They also saw I was staring to have a placental abruption, so I was sent immediately to L&D to induce.
My appointment was at 9, I was in L&D getting IVs placed by 10. Before leaving my midwifes office, I called my husband, all he heard was "get here now" and he immediately left work. He turned a 45 minute drive into 30 minutes. My dad got the call at the same time as my husband, he left work, rented a car, drove the 9 hour drive, and was at the hospital about 10 hours after that phone call.
One of the kindest gestures I remember is the L&D nurse as soon as they brought me into my room. Before saying anything, she hugged me and then spoke comforting words to me. They distracted me with talk of my tattoos while placing my IVs.
I am blessed enough to have a supportive family and community. I told my boss, and friend, that I wouldn't be able to work for a while, and she came to my hospital room as soon as possible to see me. My best friend left work on her lunch break telling them she wouldn't be back because of a family emergency. She spent several hours with me. The mother of the teens who babysit my son came and stayed for a few hours. He had his first ever sleepover and had a wonderful time. Knowing he was safe, happy, and well cared for was one less thing for me to worry about.
By 1am, my family was asleep in my room, except my mom. I would open my eyes when my blood pressure cuff would go off and see my mom standing up watching my vitals on the screen. She would alternate standing and sitting in the chair next to me. I woke up to the feeling of my water breaking about 2:20am, and she called the nurse and woke everyone up. When it came time to deliver my daughter, I had my husband, sister and parents in the room with me. She was born May 7th at 2:36am. I was able to hold her for as long as I wanted. We all got pictures holding her, and pictures of her. I wasn't expecting her to be so red, I was more expecting her to be more translucent. We were given a cuddle cot so she could stay as long as I wanted, a nurse took her for a bit to get feet and hand prints, and wrapped her more delicately in a floral blanket, which is what she was cremated in.
I had several visitors the day she was born, my husband's grandma, my best friend, the mom/babysitter brought my son to visit, my brother from 2 hours away after working night shift, and my pastor. We were given a beautiful keepsake box, our friend made each of us key chains she made the night I was in the hospital with an angel, pink heart, and a C for her name, Clara-Ann.
I felt numb after holding her, signing her birth/death certificate, and the cremation paperwork. I felt like I was all done crying, then as someone left the room, I heard a newborn crying for the moment the door was opened and broke down. It hit me that someone had a healthy baby, and I was happy for them, but I was also mad that I didn't get to hold a crying child. I held a silent one. A tiny one. One who deserved so much more with nothing I could do. The only comfort knowing she only knew love and safety.
It's not fair. There was nothing we did or didn't do to cause her condition. It was just dumb luck. My midwife doubled my Lexapro, so I'm no longer crying and unable to get up off the couch. I've been able to go out with my son and watch him play, and play with him without snapping at him. It's not fair that my son doesn't get to grow up with his sister. It's not fair that he won't ever get to talk to her, play with her, or fight with her. He was so excited seeing her pictures that he would climb to get them and show everyone the baby. He picked out a onesie for her and painted a heart for her. He didn't quite understand that the baby was in my tummy, except for when he heard her heartbeat at my 17 week appointment. He now doesn't understand why we are sad, why the pictures have been put away somewhere safe, or why his memaw and aunt are staying longer than they ever had before.
I know it gets better. I know we will be able to live normally again one day, I just don't know when. My dad is building a shadow box to hold all the important pictures, bear with her heartbeat, and her urn. We will have it hanging in the living room so we always think of her. We will tell our son all about her once he gets a bit older and understands more. He will hear about how excited he was, about how he wanted baby sister to wear flowers, how he painted himself a truck and baby sister a heart.
Thank you for reading my story. Know that I hold all of your angels in my heart. Every one of them matters.