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Adela
Mom to Willow Rose
Stillborn at 21 weeks on November 12th, 2009
Milwaukee, WI
I was once a teenage mother. After I married my husband in 2001 I knew I wanted to have another baby, even though my son was almost 10 when I married my husband. Shortly after we were married, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. With little money for fertility treatments, our hope of having another baby dwindled with each passing year. After friends announced pregnancy after pregnancy we began to except that our son would be an only child.
Since I had PCOS, my periods would be MIA for months at a time. One summer afternoon, I began to recognize some familiar symptoms. I had nausea, tender breasts and headaches. Finally I took a pregnancy test and it was positive!
It seems as soon as I gave birth to Olivia, I knew I wanted to get pregnant again. By the time she was born her big brother was 14 years old! This time my hubby and I sought the help of a fertility specialist. Our second round of Clomid we were pregnant again!
From the beginning the pregnancy wasn't the same. The nausea was much worse and I had migraines daily. At one point during the pregnancy I felt empty, but I couldn't describe this feeling (nor did I want to admit it) so I never said a word to anyone.
At 17 weeks I had a scheduled Dr.'s appointment. I never even told my husband about the appointment because he was so busy at work. These appointments were pretty routine and uneventful anyway. I pee in a cup, listen to the baby's heartbeat, etc. This was the first Dr. appointment I've ever gone to sans my husband. I regretted that decision as soon as the Dr. couldn't find the heartbeat. As I sat in the waiting room for the ultrasound tech to become available I text my husband. He called me back and insisted he was on his way. I convinced him not to come. As soon as the image appeared on the screen I saw the baby's heart beating away. Everything was fine! Once I received the all clear I couldn't help but ask what the sex was. I called my husband, teary-eyed from relief. "We're having another girl!"
4 weeks later was the anatomy scan. We were still excited even though we already knew the sex. My husband was supposed to meet me at the Dr.'s office at 2pm, but of course he was late. The tech started the ultrasound without him. She explained that she would get the necessary "boring" stuff before hubby arrived. But after a few print outs she rushed out of the room, mumbling something about showing the Dr. something first. I instantly knew something was wrong. When she was leaving the room, my husband was arriving. I burst into tears. He couldn't understand how I knew something was wrong when I never spoke with the Dr.
I remember sobbing in the Dr.'s office. My husband asked lots of questions, questions I couldn't even think of. I also remember my Dr.'s cold demeanor. She often referred to my baby as "the product of conception". She said it more times than I could count. I remember being ushered out the back door. God forbid I upset the happy, pregnant women in the waiting room. Those women would be able to go on, oblivious to the fact that our babies could be taken from us at any moment. I'm not sure how long my husband and I cried in the car.
The next couple of days I searched online. I searched for support groups... sites that would prepare me for whats to come with labor and delivery, funeral arrangements. My teenage son cried with me. He would later tell a family friend that it hurt him too much to see me in so much pain.
I was encouraged to deliver at a hospital that was "sensitive" to my situation. I wouldn't have to stay in the maternity ward. No pregnant women, "It's a Girl" balloons, flowers or crying babies. I'm thankful we had a wonderful nurse. She had a coworker take over her other patients so she could focus on us. We were warned ahead of time that once induced it takes awhile for labor to start, but once it does the baby delivers so quickly there is often no hospital staff in the room. This frightened both my husband and I. So our nurse stayed hours past her shift end and helped when it was time to deliver her.
Once Willow was delivered they removed her from the sac and cleaned her up a bit. My husband and I rocked her and tried to memorize every feature. She wasn't perfect. Her skin was dark, and her features looked like they were melting chocolate. The Dr.'s couldn't pinpoint her exact age and she may have been dead inside of me for up to 4 weeks. We left the hospital with a memory box, her crocheted clothes, footprints and her pictures. But no baby.
At first my husband didn't want a memorial service. He was against it. But I insisted we had to have one. Days before our service I was adamant that we weren't going to have one. I felt as if everyone was ready to move on except me, and I wasn't going to force anyone to mourn my baby. By then, my husband insisted that we have the service and say goodbye to our daughter. I'm glad we did. I have Willow's ashes displayed in our living room. Although the pain of losing my baby girl is forever etched in my heart and in my mind, the pain does ease with time. Willow Rose will never be forgotten.
Since I had PCOS, my periods would be MIA for months at a time. One summer afternoon, I began to recognize some familiar symptoms. I had nausea, tender breasts and headaches. Finally I took a pregnancy test and it was positive!
It seems as soon as I gave birth to Olivia, I knew I wanted to get pregnant again. By the time she was born her big brother was 14 years old! This time my hubby and I sought the help of a fertility specialist. Our second round of Clomid we were pregnant again!
From the beginning the pregnancy wasn't the same. The nausea was much worse and I had migraines daily. At one point during the pregnancy I felt empty, but I couldn't describe this feeling (nor did I want to admit it) so I never said a word to anyone.
At 17 weeks I had a scheduled Dr.'s appointment. I never even told my husband about the appointment because he was so busy at work. These appointments were pretty routine and uneventful anyway. I pee in a cup, listen to the baby's heartbeat, etc. This was the first Dr. appointment I've ever gone to sans my husband. I regretted that decision as soon as the Dr. couldn't find the heartbeat. As I sat in the waiting room for the ultrasound tech to become available I text my husband. He called me back and insisted he was on his way. I convinced him not to come. As soon as the image appeared on the screen I saw the baby's heart beating away. Everything was fine! Once I received the all clear I couldn't help but ask what the sex was. I called my husband, teary-eyed from relief. "We're having another girl!"
4 weeks later was the anatomy scan. We were still excited even though we already knew the sex. My husband was supposed to meet me at the Dr.'s office at 2pm, but of course he was late. The tech started the ultrasound without him. She explained that she would get the necessary "boring" stuff before hubby arrived. But after a few print outs she rushed out of the room, mumbling something about showing the Dr. something first. I instantly knew something was wrong. When she was leaving the room, my husband was arriving. I burst into tears. He couldn't understand how I knew something was wrong when I never spoke with the Dr.
I remember sobbing in the Dr.'s office. My husband asked lots of questions, questions I couldn't even think of. I also remember my Dr.'s cold demeanor. She often referred to my baby as "the product of conception". She said it more times than I could count. I remember being ushered out the back door. God forbid I upset the happy, pregnant women in the waiting room. Those women would be able to go on, oblivious to the fact that our babies could be taken from us at any moment. I'm not sure how long my husband and I cried in the car.
The next couple of days I searched online. I searched for support groups... sites that would prepare me for whats to come with labor and delivery, funeral arrangements. My teenage son cried with me. He would later tell a family friend that it hurt him too much to see me in so much pain.
I was encouraged to deliver at a hospital that was "sensitive" to my situation. I wouldn't have to stay in the maternity ward. No pregnant women, "It's a Girl" balloons, flowers or crying babies. I'm thankful we had a wonderful nurse. She had a coworker take over her other patients so she could focus on us. We were warned ahead of time that once induced it takes awhile for labor to start, but once it does the baby delivers so quickly there is often no hospital staff in the room. This frightened both my husband and I. So our nurse stayed hours past her shift end and helped when it was time to deliver her.
Once Willow was delivered they removed her from the sac and cleaned her up a bit. My husband and I rocked her and tried to memorize every feature. She wasn't perfect. Her skin was dark, and her features looked like they were melting chocolate. The Dr.'s couldn't pinpoint her exact age and she may have been dead inside of me for up to 4 weeks. We left the hospital with a memory box, her crocheted clothes, footprints and her pictures. But no baby.
At first my husband didn't want a memorial service. He was against it. But I insisted we had to have one. Days before our service I was adamant that we weren't going to have one. I felt as if everyone was ready to move on except me, and I wasn't going to force anyone to mourn my baby. By then, my husband insisted that we have the service and say goodbye to our daughter. I'm glad we did. I have Willow's ashes displayed in our living room. Although the pain of losing my baby girl is forever etched in my heart and in my mind, the pain does ease with time. Willow Rose will never be forgotten.
Adela blogs at http://wardlows.blogspot.com/
You can contact her at adelavelazquez@yahoo.com
You can contact her at adelavelazquez@yahoo.com
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