Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope

Kelley
First angel lost to miscarriage February 2009
Second angel lost to miscarriage August 2009
Mom of Jackson, lost to Stillbirth April 1, 2010
Columbus, Ohio

My story can be told by reading the letter I wrote to my little boy just hours after we found out his little heart stopped beating.

Sweet Baby Boy,

Several people have suggested that I write a letter to you. A good-bye letter I guess. The thing is, I never even got to say hello. At least not the way I wanted to. Mommy and Daddy found out we were expecting you on November 21, 2009 right before Thanksgiving. We were scared because of what happened with our first little babies, but we were still hopeful. My first ultrasound for you came sometime shortly after Christmas and Daddy and I heard the words we never thought we would: “I believe that, right there, is a heartbeat!” I’ve never been so relieved in my life. You were hanging in there. We asked the doctor if he would see us again in two weeks just to double check and he said that was fine. 2 weeks passed and we got to see your little heart beating away again and your little arms moving all over the place. Daddy said it looked like you were dancing. I looked at those ultrasound pictures all the time and I thought about who you would look like when you were born.

We weren’t scheduled for another ultrasound until around 20 weeks, which is also when we could find out if you were a little boy or girl. I could have sworn you were a girl, but I was wrong. Gramma Myra was so excited for you to come, as was everyone else. You were the answer to our prayers. I couldn’t wait to see Daddy hold you for the first time. I thought about that a lot. I started feeling you move around a little bit right around the time I was 17 weeks pregnant. I felt you more and more each day and I loved it. I thought you were just trying to say hi to me and let me know you were doing ok.

Daddy and I were excited for our appointment on March 15, 2010. It was time to get a good look at you again. I had a weird feeling all day that day. Now I think I must have known something was wrong, but I was still hopeful. We waited what seemed like forever for the doctor to see us and tell us what we wanted to hear. Instead, the doctor put his arm on mine and started to say things that we didn’t want to hear. Something was wrong with your little belly, your foot, your hands…that is about all I remember before the long needle came out for the Amnio. I felt like I was in a nightmare. We left the Dr.’s office and just sat in the car and stared out the window. We couldn’t speak. All of our hopes and dreams for you came crashing down in an instant.

At this point, we knew we were in for more appointments, tests, and ultrasounds. When we found out the Amnio results came back normal, we got very hopeful that we might just have a little ‘Robobaby.’ That’s what Daddy liked to call you. He just knew that you were going to make it and just need a little extra help. I wasn’t so sure. As we struggled to make choices and decide what was best for you, we realized that no matter what happened, we were in for a long, sad journey no matter what the outcome. Then one Saturday morning, almost 2 weeks after we got the devastating news about your prognosis, I woke up and just knew what to do. We were going to continue this pregnancy and let you decide if you wanted to stay with us. At the same time, I noticed that I hadn’t felt you kicking me and squirming around my belly. We had another appointment the following Monday, so we thought we’d wait to see what the doctor said. He confirmed what I think I already knew and that was that your little heart had stopped beating.

I did feel some relief when I heard the news, not to say that I wasn’t devastated. I felt relief for you, that you wouldn’t have to suffer and I felt relief for us because I knew how hard it was going to be to let you go after 9 long months. It’s still going to be so hard. Daddy says he knows you are in heaven with Grandpa Sutton, skipping around and playing. I said I didn’t think so. I know if you are with Grandpa Sutton you are sitting on his lap in a rocking chair. The hope that this is true brings me a little bit of peace. We named you after him. Jackson, our sweet little boy. I hope you know how much we loved you and how much we love you still. I miss you so much already and you are still in my belly. Daddy and I are going to the hospital tomorrow to have you. I’m so scared, but I know that everything will be ok. I hope to see your little face and know that you are at peace.

I’m going to try really hard to find the good in all of this. One thing I have realized is the capacity of love that a parent can have for their child, no matter how small they are or how much time they have with them. The 22-23 weeks I had you in my belly were a blessing to me and your Daddy. Speaking of your Daddy, I’m so proud of him. He surprised me a little bit as we went through this hard time. He loved you so much and wanted so badly for you to be ok. He fought so hard for that to be true. I won’t ever forget that, just like I won’t ever forget you.

I wish things could have been different. I wish we could be picking out your nursery bedding, or little blue outfits for you. But that is not what was in store for you. Instead, you are our little angel in heaven and I know you will watch over us.

You are the best thing that Mommy and Daddy have ever created and we will always remember what a blessing you were to us.

All my love,

Momma

Kelley Blogs at You Mean Like Ray
You can contact her at kelosu27@yahoo.com