I remember

I remember the 20 some pregnancy tests I took waiting for more than 1 line to appear. I remember when I finally saw 2 lines. I remember that as the moment I fell head over heels, unconditionally in love with my baby. I remember dreaming of my baby growing peacefully inside me. My baby needed me, and I needed it. I remember the doctor’s visit when we heard the heartbeat for the first time. Tears streamed down our faces at the thought of how real our baby was now, and that we could make that little heart out of our love for each other. I remember them changing due dates for the 2nd time because baby kept measuring small, I remember being concerned and not questioning it. I remember we didn’t have another ultrasound scheduled until 20 weeks and that is when we would find out the sex of the baby. I remember thinking that was too far away. We heard the heartbeat at 7 weeks and 5 days. To wait until 20 weeks just wouldn’t do. I remember making the appointment at the 3d ultrasound place that told me they could tell us what we were having at my current gestation which was 14 weeks at the time. I remember the happiness when I first saw our baby on the screen. The tech had a hard time determining what sex the baby was but after flipping me and baby, side to side a few times she determined we were having a GIRL! I remember being amazed how much she had grown since 7 weeks. She had hands, feet, legs, arms, elbows, and everything else. Her heart beat was music to our ears. I remember crying with happiness as we watched her bouncing around within in me. She needed me to live, and I needed her too. I remember the tech asking me a million times if I was sure I was 14 weeks along. Of course I was sure. Every day that went by was an accomplishment and one day closer to us meeting our beautiful baby. I knew exactly how far along I was. In fact, I was actually 15 weeks along based on my LMP but the due date kept changing. I remember the happiness so vaguely now. I remember the tech saying she was seeing things that were “concerning.” I remember I wished at that time that I could rewind life and never have to hear what she was going to say. I remember her saying our baby had hydrops and possible hydrocephalus. She, like everyone else, said baby was measuring small. I remember her saying things like “if she makes it term.” I remember how it felt to have my happiness ripped from me like I had stolen it from another and never deserved it anyway. I remember the short lived denial, and the quick entrance of sadness. I remember her saying she would talk to the doctor and call me that night. She never called, she didn’t call the next day either. I remember when the phone rang on Jan 2nd. I remember how lightly she told me our baby had hydrops and hydrocephalous. I remember making a doctor’s appointment and thinking that the sonographer had some nerve lying to me about my own baby. I remember the doctor at the office scanning my belly. I remember seeing our baby girl in there bouncing around as usual. I remember the doctor saying “fetal cystic hygroma,” and, “we’re sending you to the specialist right now.” I remember crying so hard in the office of the maternal fetal medicine doctor’s that they let me in a back door away from the waiting room and other pregnant bellies. I remember them scanning my belly again and telling me “this isn’t good.” I remember the burn of the amnio while they were discussing the multiple chromosomal abnormalities that this could be. I remember condtions such as Triploidy, Trisomy 13, and Trisomy 18 being possiblities. I remember them saying they would call in a few days. I remember the ride home in the car with my husband and my baby pleading to be back in the denial phase so this wouldn’t hurt so badly for just this second. The days waiting for the amnio results, those I don’t remember. I remember the genetic counselor calling on Jan 6th and saying he was sorry. I remember the words: “Trisomy 18.” I’ll always remember those words. I remember different people’s words and other doctors saying, “Incompatible with life.” There was talk of termination. I remember we had to make a decision. I remember how cruel I felt as I prayed to God to take our baby girl into his arms so that a decision wouldn’t have to be made by us. I remember thinking that I would never have thought I would ever pray for the death of my child. I did pray, I do remember that. As a week went by, we named our baby girl Grace Willow. We went to the 3D ultrasound place for the last time to get a good look at our baby girl. You could already tell she had her daddy’s nose and her mommy’s cheek bones and feet. We got a recording of her heartbeat put into a stuffed bunny. We also got a DVD of her movement and a CD of all of the ultrasound pictures. I remember the days going by feeling her little flutters here and there. I remember the day of our last ultrasound on Thurs the 14th. We sat in the waiting room forever, today was the day to make a decision. Again I found myself pleading with God to take my beautiful girl into his arms. I remember using words with him like “NOW,” when discussing when I needed him to take her. I hadn’t felt my baby kick yet, she was only 16 weeks. 16 weeks on that day. (17 weeks based on my LMP before the due date changes). However, while pleading with God, my hand on my belly, I remember the one kick like feeling that I felt. The first and last. When they placed the ultrasound on my belly, the doctor said the hydrops had gotten way worse. I looked at her for the last time as he held the machine over her chest and said, “oh honey she’s passed. There is no decision that needs to be made.” I was thankful she never had to suffer and I was horrified that she had left us. I remember being told not to eat after midnight for surgery the next day. I remember the dilators they put in my cervix to prepare for surgery. I remember Jan 15th, the day I woke for surgery, putting my hands on my belly in the shower and crying. For a day, she was in two places at once. I remember the car ride to the hospital thinking I can’t do this. I can’t be separated from her. She needs me, and I need her. I remember knowing I was being unreasonable. I remember not caring. I remember the oxygen mask over my face while they tried to put me to sleep. I remember the burn in my arm. I remember not breathing in the oxygen from the mask because I was too busy screaming and crying “I love you Grace.” Over and over again. I remember the nurse hugging me and crying with me as I fell asleep. I remember waking up without her. I remember reaching to my belly for her and finding emptiness. I remember the pain in my heart, I remember it so well because it hasn’t left. They gave me her tiny footprints, and small keepsakes to remember her by, and it’s not enough. My body and heart aches to hold her, and I can’t. I barely remember the happiness I felt before my baby died. I’ll get there someday I’m sure. But now, 3 days later, it hurts even more. I’ll always be her mommy and she’ll always be my daughter. We never got to hear her laugh or see her first steps. We listen to her heartbeat in the stuffed bunny multiple times a day. Just a reminder that she was real, and she was ours. I am trying to take comfort in the fact that she has grown wings and is flying with angels now. As for me, my tears haven’t stopped, my feet remain on the ground, and I’m wingless. I remember Grace Willow.






All the above pix are taken 1*13*10

The pic below is of her tiny footprints from 1*15*10