Thursday, July 22, 2010

Mommy to Cristo Isaiah
Grew his wings on March 22nd, 2010 at 30 weeks
El Paso, TX

My story began on October 7, 2009. The day I found out I was pregnant. We had been trying for some time, so when we finally got the positive test result we couldn’t be happier. I had a wonderful pregnancy, no morning sickness, no complications, hardly any weight gain. On January 28 we found out we were having another boy, our third son. We were so ecstatic. He was a very active boy, always moving around and kicking. Those were the happiest moments in my pregnancy.

On March 17 I felt a sharp pain under my belly and my lower back. I called the doctor and he told me to head to the hospital as a precaution. The nurse placed all the monitors and as soon as I heard my son’s heartbeat I breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor ordered an ultrasound and everything came out fine. His heartbeat was strong, he was moving around so I was sent home.

The next few days were normal. Baby was moving and I was enjoying every minute of it. Then Monday came, March 22. The day that forever changed my life. I went to work and had lunch with my two best friends. We talked about babies, our c-sections, being moms. I asked them to take me to the drugstore to buy some ibuprofen, which my doctor said I could take for my back pain, which is what I was feeling.

When I got back to my office was when I noticed my baby wasn’t moving. I called my husband, my sister, my mom, I told my friends. They all said that maybe he wasn’t moving because I had taken an ibuprofen and he was sleepy. I agreed with them but was still worried. I went about my day, picked up my son at daycare, went to the bank and then went home. My dear husband made me dinner and I lay down to do kick counts. Nothing, I felt nothing. I knew something was definitely wrong. I called my doctor knowing that I would get his answering service. I told them what was wrong and they told me that they would let the doctor know. Not even a minute had passed when I got a call back from my doctor. “Go to the hospital now!” he said. I could feel the sense of urgency in his voice. It was around 7:30 in the evening.

I called my sister Yvonne and dropped off my son. I was crying and my husband just kept telling me everything would be OK. I called my mom and told her what was happening. She told me to calm down, that it wasn’t good for the baby. I told her not to tell Carlitos (my 7 yr. old son) anything. The drive to the hospital was a long one which made me that much more anxious.

We arrived at the hospital and took the elevator to the fifth floor. They were already expecting me. They sent my husband to emergency to get my admission papers. What a mistake, I thought. I wanted my husband with me because deep down I knew that I was about to receive devastating news.

The nurse took me to a room and told me to change. I lay down and she started to place the baby monitor, searching for his heartbeat. She couldn’t find it. Tears started to fill my eyes. She left to call another nurse. I told them that I wanted my husband with me. They called for him and I texted for him to hurry back. The ultrasound machine was brought in. I stared at the screen and saw my son. He wasn’t moving and I could see that there was no heartbeat. The technician wouldn’t say anything. My husband came back and that’s when they broke the news. Our baby was gone.

At that moment I lost myself. I cried, I screamed, I was in disbelief, but I never asked why. My husband called my mom, not knowing he had called her, I called her too. She took my call and we both cried. I told her my “Cachorro” was gone. She told me that they were coming to El Paso as soon as my sister Corina arrived from work. I called my sister Yvonne and gave her the bad news. I also called my best friend Wendy and she immediately headed to the hospital. My husband called his parents and his manager.

My husband and I hugged and cried. My doctor arrived and gave us both a hug. He brought back the ultrasound machine; he wanted to make his own assessment. He said I had a placental abruption and that I was bleeding a lot. He asked me if I was in pain or if I was bleeding. I told him I wasn’t in pain and wasn’t bleeding either. He said he needed to do a c-section and that I might need a blood transfusion because he could see that I was bleeding a lot. He also said that I might need a hysterectomy if the bleeding couldn’t be stopped. At that moment I didn’t care. All I wanted was for it to be over.

Wendy arrived and so did Norma, my other best friend. They asked me what happened but I was still in shock and couldn't explain all the details. Then my mother and father in law got there. We hugged and cried. We just couldn’t believe what was happening. I wished my parents could be with me but given that they live 8 hours away, I knew that they would try their best to be with me by the next morning. I wondered what they would tell my son. He was so excited to have another brother and was looking forward to taking care of him. My heart was breaking. Then I thought of my other son, Christian, only 3 years old. I knew he’d be too young to understand what was going on.

The doctor told me it was time to go to surgery. Knowing Norma’s husband was a photographer, I asked if she could please take pictures of my baby. Of course she agreed. My mother in law said a quick prayer and my husband was given the scrubs to change into. I was so tense that the anesthesiologist couldn’t place the spinal block, it was hurting so bad. I just remember screaming in pain. My doctor told the anesthesiologist to stop that he couldn’t wait anymore since my blood pressure kept dropping. General anesthesia it was, that was a little before 11:00 p.m.

I woke a little after 2:00 a.m. in the recovery room. My husband, my in-laws, and friends were still there. I had an IV in each hand, one for saline and the other for blood. The first thing I asked was to see my son. He was so perfect and looked just like his daddy. He weighed 3 lbs. 4 oz. and was 16 in. long. We named him Cristo Isaiah.

I don’t remember much from this time because I was so out of it because of the medication. I remember asking Norma to take pictures of us, not really knowing how terrible I looked after being in surgery for 3 hours. I didn’t care; I just wanted a picture with my boy, my little angel. I remember singing to him and kissing his cheek. Wendy undressed him so that I could see him completely. I don’t remember what happened after that, I must have fallen asleep.

I remember waking up the next morning. It was only my husband and me in the room. The baby was gone; I knew that the nurses had taken him to the morgue. My husband woke up crying and nothing I said could console him. Then people started arriving, but what I really wanted was to be with my mom and dad. Finally at 11:00 a.m. they arrived. My parents hugged us and told us that everything would be OK. I knew my sons were outside Labor and Delivery wondering what had happened to their mommy. The priest arrived and prayed for us, it was such a beautiful prayer. He said God had a mysterious way of doing things and that we are no one to be questioning him. I completely agreed. I have never asked God why this happened to me. I’ve accepted it as best I can. My children came in the room. I remember the look on my oldest son’s face. I’ll never forget it; he is too young to be feeling this kind of pain. The little one was just scared because mommy had needles everywhere. My room was full of people, my aunts, cousins, and friends. It was full of love and support.

My doctor came in and explained everything that happened. He said I had a severe placental abruption and had lost a lot of blood. He said he had no choice but to remove my uterus, he tried his best to save it but couldn’t control the bleeding. Tears rolled down his face. He tried to comfort us but I knew he was hurting as much as we were. He later explained to my sister who is a nurse that had I not gone to the hospital that my husband would not have found me alive the next morning.

I stayed in the hospital for 5 days, recuperating from all the trauma. Leaving the hospital without a baby in my arms was so hard. I cried all the way home. We had our son’s services the Monday after he was born on March 29. He looked so perfect, just like a little angel. I wanted to take him home so bad. We had him cremated, and I thought about keeping him home with me, but I decided a week later that I wanted to bury his cremains. He was buried on April 9 after a beautiful memorial mass.

I know that I did nothing to cause the death of my baby. I may not understand but I trust God and will live the life that he has planned for me. Along with my husband and children, I will live a happy and fulfilling life always remembering the angel I have in heaven.

You can contact Suzanne at


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