Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope

LaRene

Mom to Christopher Allen

Born Still on April 28, 2001

My name is LaRene, from Bellflower, CA and I am a mother of a stillborn child. My son, Christopher, was in 2001, at 27 weeks. I remember when I first found out that I was pregnant with him, I was so elated. I had already had one child and was ready for another. As I watched my body change, I embraced my pregnancy more and more each day. I talked to Christopher as if he was already in my arms, began picking out baby clothes and deciding what to name him. But around my 20th week, something began to go wrong. He felt different, didn't move as much, and in my heart I think I knew something was wrong, but I shook it off. I remember walking to the laundry mat, which wasn't too far from my house and while there needed to go to the restroom. Not wanting to use the public bathrooms, I walked home while the clothes were washing. In the bathroom, I noticed I was spotting and called my mother immediately. Luckily for me she only lived down the street and was able to take me to the hospital quickly. I was relieved to find out that the baby was okay and that I needed to rest and call my doctor the following day. When I saw the doctor, he said everything was fine but wanted me to rest for a week before going back to work. I had no idea that I would find myself in the hospital again a few weeks later.

I moved into a bigger apartment and one week later, my water broke at 25 weeks gestation. The hospital was able to stop my contractions, but now I became high risk and needed to have complete bedrest in the hospital. This was the most scariest thing I had to endure at that time. I was told that as long as I was able to stay pregnant past 28 weeks, the baby had a better chance of survival. I stayed in the hospital for two weeks, laying there doing nothing but reading through magazines, watching t.v., staring at the white walls and out the window, and occasionally had visitors. All the while scared out of my mine. I pleaded to my son to stay in as long as he could and assured him I would love him regardless. The day I had my son, I went for tests and everything looked good. His heart was beating and according to the ultrasound everything looked normal. Then later that night I began to have contractions. As they rushed me into the delivery room, all I could do was pray. My mother came immediately, as did my best friend. I was told that after I give birth, there would be many doctors and nurses around him because he would be very small and after they were done checking him, they would allow me to see him briefly before they would take him to NICU. I was prepared for that, but not for what was to come. Yes there were doctors and nurses around him after I delivered him, and although I didn't hear him cry I expected that was normal since his heart had dropped during my final push. Soon my mom looked at me with tears in her eyes and I was told that my son was not breathing and they could not get a trachea down his throat. He was born still. I still remember the aching scream that came from my body as I called his name, the pain my heart felt and still feels to this day. Even as I write this, I began to cry because he never got to see me, feel my kisses, or know the love I have for him. It has been nine years, since he returned to Heaven and I believe that my grandmother was there when he was born and carried him to Heaven. I have to believe that because it would pain me to think he was alone. I have my pictures, my memory box, his clothes he was baptized in, and my memories of him as he grew within me and I will always love him. I know that there is a reason for everything and it is not up to me to try to make sense of it, but I can't help to continue to long for my son, Christopher Allen, born still on April 28, 2001.

LaRene can be contacted at lg0218@yahoo.com