Our beautiful daughter was stillborn 11/24/09 at 36 weeks - cord wrapped around her neck and knotted. There was absolutely nothing we could do. Please forgive me as I type out the whole story because I haven't done that yet and really feel like I need to.
We had a low amniotic fluid level scare and a previa scare earlier in my pregnancy, both of which resolved themselves, and everything was great. And then last Monday she just wasn't moving like I was used to.
We went to L&D Monday night and the nurse tried to find her heartbeat and then called our doctor. He came in, did an ultrasound, and nothing was happening in her perfect little ribcage - no heartbeat.
After our initial sobs, Dr. G said he would need to induce me then. They started me on Pitocin right away. Well, they tried to. Apparently my veins are thin - they had no problems finding a vein but they had a hard time getting an IV in. It's a week later and I still have four huge bruises on the insides of my forearms - took 5 sticks.
Called my mom, woke her up, cried for a long time. Both of our families live across the country. My husband tried to call his mom, couldn't get an answer. Turned out later she had gone on vacation and hadn't told us - luckily she had her cell phone and he got a hold of her the next morning.
Texted about five of my friends that night to get the grapevine going - I couldn't bear to talk to anyone besides my family. My husband drove home quickly to get phone chargers and some other things - we obviously hadn't been prepared to stay.
Got an epidural around 11AM - well, tried to, again. First time didn't work, the anesthesiologist said that he didn't have a needle long enough and that I'd have to go without. My main nurse gave him the look of death and said that that wasn't an option, so he tried again and got it. The anesthesiologist was really a douche bag - he makes an appearance later.
Epidural kicked in and we were able to nap for a little bit. My brother called and said my mom had gotten a flight and would land at the nearest major airport (150 miles away) that night at 10PM and would drive up.
Contractions continued - I had been dilated 1 cm at my previous appointment and it had been slowly expanding that morning but by 1PM I was 8 cm. They kept me on Pitocin and said they'd probably have me start pushing around 3:30 or 4.
Social services guy stops by and he’s…interesting. Has some good things to say but sort of a tool when it comes to information – he told us about a support group in town for parents who have lost infants but has no idea how to contact them. He does give us some things to think about, and then he leaves. We decide to cremate her – where we’re living is not home and I can’t bear to think about leaving her out here when we leave. We cry some more – I don’t know if we ever stop – but manage to catch a few minutes of sleep.
4PM rolls around and we start pushing – apparently I wasn’t doing it right at first (?) but got the hang of it pretty quickly as she was out in 45 minutes. They had to cut the cord just to get her out – it was wrapped that tightly – and then they found the knot and showed us. Horrible, but some closure and comfort in the fact that it wasn’t anything else – something genetic, a virus, whatever.
And she was beautiful, but frozen. No breath. Eyelids torn. Full head of curly dark hair, just like her daddy. They laid her on my chest and my husband and I just cried. They kept working on me – delivered the placenta, massaging my uterus, and something wasn’t right. I asked my husband if he wanted to hold her, and he took her. Then I started shaking.
I was still numb from the epidural but they kept pushing on my uterus and I was shivering and didn’t know why. I asked and they said my uterus wasn’t clamping down like it should and I kept bleeding. I remember thinking that I just wanted them to leave so I could be with my husband and daughter and just mourn by ourselves.
I was shivering because they were pumping me full of fluid because I was losing so much blood – there wasn’t time for them to warm it up. My husband told me later that Dr. G was just pulling clots out of me right and left. They kept giving me some kind of shot in my leg and told me they’d tell me about the side effects later. Apparently those side effects included vomiting, because all of a sudden I had to do that into some creepy blue bag, and all that came up was medicine and water. A couple of other nurses came in to take some blood, which in retrospect seems weird because they ended up giving me two pints of blood. My husband said they all just looked so worried because I just kept bleeding, and he was terrified.
Then they said it was getting better and I was bleeding less, but Dr. G said they wanted to take me to surgery for a D&C to be safe and if I continued to bleed he might have to do a hysterectomy. I couldn’t even comprehend that at that moment – my baby is dead and now you might have to take my uterus? They started rolling me out of the room – I couldn’t even catch my husband’s eye, just said “I love you” as I was rolled out, and he was left standing there, holding our precious, still daughter, thinking he could lose me too.
The nurses run down the hall with me to surgery and then they leave. I don’t know any of these nurses and they don’t know me – one of them asks me my name. I respond, but they can’t hear me because my voice is shot from crying for the last 12 hours. I’m still violently shaking from all of the cold fluid and they cover my upper half with a couple of heated blankets. Douche bag anesthesiologist comes back in the room and slams an oxygen mask on my head, not fitting it on my face and getting the band stuck in my hair. I said ow, or something, and he says, “Women and their hair.” I’m not joking. I end up fixing the mask on my face before they strap my arms down. I’m trying to ask questions but they don’t hear me through the mask and I feel like no one is listening. Luckily I’m still numb from the epidural so they decide not to give me more anesthesia. Dr. G comes in and introduces another doctor to me who will assist him. I’m so cold and so tired and am in and out for the next period of time – I don’t even know how long it was.
When they did the D&C they were able to fix everything so no hysterectomy was necessary, thank God. The nurses roll me into a recovery room where they’re going to set me up with some antibiotics, and leave me with two nurses whom I’ll call Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Dr. G stops by quickly, lets me know what’s going on and says he’s going to go fill in my husband and spend a little time with him and my baby – and he keeps calling her by her name, which I appreciate.
They see the bruises on my arms but are reluctant to add another port to my current IV as I’m still on Pitocin until it runs out (it was helping my uterus clamp down) so they decide they want to try to start another IV. I’m still freezing so they give me some more heated blankets. I’m thirsty and ask them for ice chips, and they each start working on an arm trying to stick me. They both fail the first time. I ask again for some ice chips (hadn’t gotten any yet), they each try again and fail. Then the Pitocin runs out so they decide to just add a port with the antibiotic. Yeah, thanks for that.
They finally roll me back down the hall to my room (which is now a different room) and there’s my husband, just sitting there, holding our daughter. He hadn’t set her down the entire time – just sang to her, rocked her, and waited for me. He sat down next to my bed and I finally got to hold her again. She was still just wrapped in a blanket, covered in vernix – the nurses had told us they wouldn’t clean her until we told them to. So we call in the nurse and she brings a CNA with her and they begin to clean her with baby oil. They ask us if we want pictures, and we decide against it. The CNA is the one who does footprints and handprints in addition to doing casts of the hands and feet so she does that and then finishes cleaning Olivia up and washes her hair. They found a little outfit and blanket so she dressed her and then brought her to us and we cried some more – I will never, ever forget that perfect little head of hair, her sweet chin, her lips with the cute little divot above the top lip that my husband has. We really did make a gorgeous kid – and so big! Over seven and a half pounds and twenty inches long at 36 weeks.
We just sat there for awhile and cried – loved her, cradled her, caressed her, and then decided it was time for us to let her go. We called the nurse and told her what funeral home we wanted and that we wanted to cremate her. The nurse said she’d call, picked up Olivia, put her in the crib, and rolled her out. And then we both sobbed like our hearts were about to break.
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