The Hospital

Driving to the hospital seemed like de ja vu. Just 18 months ago we were driving to the same hospital to deliver our sweet Kate. The feelings were starkly contrasted. That morning was filled with excitement to meet our little girl. This evening was filled with apprehension and pain. I couldn’t even get myself to look down at my belly. I didn’t want to hold it or touch it, the thought of who was in there was just too hurtful.

We walked in to labor and delivery and I immediately felt angry. No mom should have to walk in to these sacred halls knowingly she has to deliver a dead baby. I felt like an alien. Neal had his arms wrapped around me but none of the nurses could even make eye contact with me. We were expected… everyone knew what happened… but no one could stand the pain of expressing how they felt when they saw me. So I was ignored.

That was until my nurse came around the corner. She ran up to us and gave me a big hug. She looked me in the eyes and said, “You are so beautiful. I am so sorry.”

We walked to our room to get prepped for the surgery. I have to get c-sections. Luckily. And I say luckily because I cannot wrapped my head around having to go through labor during all of this. There are women much strong than me who have had to do this so I am glad I could take the “emotional easy way out” and just have the surgery.

After I changed into my gown I got into bed. At that point Neal’s Dad arrived. They gave me a beautiful blessing and I immediately felt love, comfort, and understanding that this was always a part of the plan. This baby was never meant to be here on earth. He didn’t have to be.

The nurse came in and said we had to make some more decisions. She asked if I wanted to hold the baby right after delivery, or if they should clean the baby off first, did Neal want to cut the cord this time? Do I want the doctor to tell us if it’s a boy or girl or does Neal want to? I just broke down. Everything about this was so wrong! This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

I explained to her that I didn’t know if I’d even want to see the baby. Depending on how long he had been dead, I was worried about decomposure and honestly just having to see my dead child. The thought of it was too hard. She calmed me down with her caring eyes and explained, “Erin, I think you’ll be surprised at how perfect this baby is going to be. The baby will look like they should just wake up and take a breath.”

“I’ll be in there right by your side, how about I look at the baby and if I feel like they look good enough, I’ll let you know so you can see him or her.” Remember? We still didn’t know what we were having…

I felt good with that decision and we immediately got prepped for surgery. Neal was by my side through the whole thing. I got wheeled into the operating room. It was so cold… and so quiet. Last time I was here the nurses and doctors were conversing, laughing, it felt so warm and bright…. And happy! This time it was just cold and quiet. Too quiet.

I was given my epidural and laid down. My anesthesiologist leaned over and whispered to me that he gave me some extra medication to ensure that I’m comfortable. I was grateful but I couldn’t definitely feel it. Neal held the bag as I threw up. I felt like such a victim right then. I felt sorry for myself. Neal kissed my forehead and I could feel his love, he didn’t even have to say anything. We were both hurting so much in that moment.

The surgery began and within minutes Dr. Ward was holding our baby. The nurse proclaimed how beautiful he was and Dr. Ward invited Neal to look around the curtain to see what we had. I looked up at Neal and the memory of the look on his face is seared into my brain. With tears in his eyes he told me, “It’s a boy”.

I was so pissed. I waited for nine months for that moment to have Neal tell me what our third child was. It was supposed to be happy. I should be crying happy tears! But instead, I just cried because of the deep heartache I felt knowing we had lost our son. The baby wasn’t just a baby anymore. It was our son, and he was gone.