Milestones

The past couple months have been full of milestones for our family. We passed the six month mark of Presley's birth, celebrated both Mother's Day and Father's Day with a trip to the cemetery, Noah graduated from the 8th grade and started working out with is high school football team (this was an emotional time for mom!) Parker closed out a challenging year of fifth grade but managed a strong finish and we finally hit "viability" for this baby girl. It hasn't been an easy road, with busy boys and all kinds of spring events mom has been on bed rest for ten weeks. If you know me, you know that being sedentary is not my forte! I was forced to give up the new job that I absolutely loved, step back as "team mom" back out of carpool and rely on others to meet my families basic needs. There are days that have been absolutely maddening. But through it all we've had some time as a family to simplify things and focus on what's really important, each other. I've had opportunities to talk with the boys more than I ever did during our busy, hectic days. I've been able to spend time individually watching movies with them, talking about their friends and interests and just be present, something we didn't often have time to do. I have not always handled things with grace, have had my share of meltdowns and have nearly lost my mind feeling unprepared for baby, but we're getting through it and baby is thriving!
You'll notice we've yet to settle on a name for this little girl, so she remains "Baby Girl" at the moment (another maddening issue for me, lol). I think we are so in love with her that we want it to be just absolutely perfect, nothing seems good enough just yet. As far as pregnancy is concerned, it continues to be less than typical. We were elated to reach 24 weeks, it was the first major milestone we'd been working toward. At 24 weeks baby is considered viable and we were set to receive a round of steroid injections to boost her lung development in case she decides to make an early appearance (which she seems quite determined to do). I was feeling pretty good when we went in on a Monday morning for the first shot, it was quick and simple and baby was active and looking great. A few hours later I felt awful! Thought maybe I was coming down with the flu, achey, low grade fever, headache, just not good. Called the OB who said that definitely wasn't a side effect of the steroid and agreed that maybe I was coming down with something. The next injection had to be administered exactly 24 hours later, so we headed back to the hospital for round two. I'd had a few contractions overnight, so was hooked up and monitored for a bit, only showed one contraction during that time, so we got the injection and headed home to rest and hydrate. Around 3pm regular contractions hit, by the time we reached the hospital (for the third time in two days) contractions were five minutes apart. I almost immediately received a dose of turbuteline, this slowed contractions some, but they were still somewhat consistent and measurable. When a nurse arrived with the second dose they realized that my heart rate was way to high to receive another dose. So we tried another medication which seemed to work and I was sent home with a prescription. Contractions have continued over the past few weeks, but seem to be pretty well controlled with meds. The medication made me feel awful for a week or so, but that also seems to have calmed down. We are now 27 weeks with baby measuring about a week ahead, which is fantastic. She is super active and strong, which is very reassuring and now we just focusing on letting her grow for as long as possible! The next goal is 32 weeks, at which the survival rate is nearly the same as a full term delivery. Once we reach that goal, my cerclage will be removed at 36 weeks, doctors are pretty confident that once that happens, we will pretty quickly have a baby! It's surreal to be at this point and we really feel like we're in the home stretch. I am extremely grateful for the love, prayers and day to day help we've had over the last several months. It has truly made some unbearable times a little more bearable. Now...on to the third trimester :)

One day at a time...

I've had lots (and lots) of spare time to think about this post and yet somehow managed to wait until the last possible minute to attempt to put it together. Today is International Bereaved Mothers Day; a day the world takes time to acknowledge mothers who have lost their children. This year, by some strange twist of fate, it happens to fall on the very day in this pregnancy in which I lost Presley in my last pregnancy.
Up until two weeks ago everything about this pregnancy was so very different from the way things went with Presley. I kept telling my doctors, friends and family that I felt fantastic and I had pretty much convinced myself that we were in the clear. What happened before seemed like a fluke, my OB was being cautious, but had reassured us many times that it was extremely unlikely to experience the same things again. So just as I started to relax and enjoy the idea of a healthy, uneventful pregnancy, bam!!! Everything got crazy. We had what we thought was a hiccup, got through that pretty well and within days, another issue arose. I see one or both doctors every week now and that's pretty much the only time I leave the house, or my bed for that matter. The first few days on bed rest I managed to stay positive, I was making lists of all the things that needed to be done, organizing the boys' schedule, pinning cute projects, getting my bedroom rearranged into what resembles a studio apartment (since I have to limit the number of times I climb the stairs, I now have a mini fridge and "pantry" in the bedroom) and watched a few old movies. Then the novelty wore off and the reality of the situation hit me...hard. That morning Brett got up, headed down stairs to let the dogs out and did what he thought was part of our new routine. He poured me a bowl of captain crunch and began to bring it to me in bed. Sweet, right? I absolutely lost it.
The idea of eating captain crunch for breakfast three mornings in a row pushed me over the edge. Just a few days earlier I'd been craving it and hadn't complained as it was served up, actually thanked him for breakfast! But at that moment, the fact that I couldn't just pick out my own breakfast did me in. I cried in my pillow for a good half hour or so, then refused to eat until lunch. I'm not sure what affect that was supposed to have, other than making me really hungry, but at the time the whole idea of breakfast was simply ruined. The thought of being in this position for months was so very overwhelming.
Then Tuesday morning I woke up around 4:30am feeling really uncomfortable, after doing a few of the things the doctor recommended post surgery, I was still feeling contractions. Afraid to wait much longer I woke Brett, called the doctor and had to make the difficult decision to go to the ER. We had two choices, however the most rational one was to go to the same ER where we lost Presley. I dreaded the idea because I knew we'd be in the same position, not quite 20 weeks and not yet eligible to check in as an OB patient.
We experienced a lot of the same feelings, lots of waiting, lots of nonchalant medical personnel and, of course, no fetal monitor. This time they at least did a Doppler check for babies heartbeat before an hour wait for ultrasound. After a six hour stay that included a fire alarm sounding for half an hour, it was determined I had a UTI that was likely causing the discomfort and possibly some contractions (although I knew I was having them, they can't conclusively say that since they never checked). We finally went home feeling very tired, but fairly relieved. That afternoon as I tried to nap, I realized that I cannot look too far ahead. Right now I have to look at each day as it comes, check that off the calendar and then face the next. Those days will eventually turn into weeks, those weeks will lead us to new milestones and eventually we will find ourselves in a safer, better place.
So as I face this day, I face a lot of mixed emotions. I am somewhat haunted by the idea that when I wake up tomorrow, I will have officially had more time with this baby than I did with Presley. I face the triumph of making it past that point and the fear of becoming too comfortable. I face the fact that I have so very little control over the outcome, in spite of the great efforts I'm making to keep this baby growing safely inside me for several more months.
That's some overwhelming stuff! But I'm also overwhelmed at the love, support and generosity of others. Brett has stepped up and taken over packing lunches, school drop offs, football carpool and so many things I'm sure he'd rather not be doing. My parents are spending nights on an air mattress in an empty bedroom and sharing a bathroom with my boys, to fill in where needed. Friends have prepared dinners so that my family isn't stuck eating out of to go boxes or the microwave every night of the week. We also received a gift this week that words cannot express our gratitude for, I know you don't want recognition, but you know who you are and we thank you from the very depths of our hearts. When this baby arrives, she will be here with us because of the efforts and blessings of so many. For that, I am so very grateful. We really wouldn't make it without our amazing village of support.
So today, as I think about Presley and the day that we lost her, I am reminded how very blessed I am to have this day with my new baby girl. I am so grateful to have another chance and I am hopeful that as I get through this day, we will get through many, many more.
And I know that on this day, there are mothers out there with broken hearts and empty arms. If you know a mother who has experienced the loss of a pregnancy or infant, please reach out today. Send them a message or give them a hug. Let them know that you acknowledge the difficulty of Mother's Day without their babies.

The Rollercoaster

We were coasting along just fabulously the last few weeks, I'm feeling fantastic and our last two ultrasounds showed nothing out of the ordinary. I love my new job and things there are going great as well. Yesterday was our third bi-weekly ultrasound to check cervical length. My OB started me on progesterone at 12 weeks and has been monitoring me closely to ensure that it was working to keep my cervix closed. After checking on the baby, confirming (again) that she is most definitely a girl and watching her suck her fingers (a habit that is so adorable but will surely be hard to break!) it was time to get measurements. That's when the floor fell out and the ride went into a free fall. I knew immediately that it wasn't good, as I've become somewhat of a cervical length expert in the past few weeks. When I saw 1.4cm on the screen and the look on the tech's face I nearly had a breakdown right then and there. She then put some pressure on my stomach and sure enough, cervix opened up. She reassured us that this is the reason we were there to begin with, to stay ahead of these types of hiccups, but as she went to get the doctor, Brett and I started to panic. The doctor took a look and confirmed it was somewhere around 2cm and shortened under pressure and said she'd be calling a perinatologist, who was a very good friend of hers, right a way. She sent me home for complete bed rest until further notice. The thought of months of bed rest completely overwhelmed me...what about work? Who would take care of my kids? My house is a disaster, I need to go grocery shopping, etc, etc.
My family and friends immediately rallied and assured me we would get through it. This morning we met with the perinatologist for the first time, he was so gracious and fit us in with less than 24 hours notice. He took a very detailed history, discussed some of the potential options and then we spent nearly an hour in ultrasound. After checking baby head to toe, getting a good look at all her organs and limbs, they took multiple cervical length measurements. The combined average ended up being close to 2.5cm rather than the original 1.4 we thought we were looking at yesterday. However that is still not in the normal range and was cause for concern, especially since I am already taking progesterone and it was a substantial change from two weeks ago. Ultimately Dr. Huls gave us the option to keep on progesterone and modified bed rest for a couple weeks and continue monitoring or to do a cerclage immediately. We didn't have to think long, as the idea of doing nothing and just waiting it out seemed like too much to bear.
We are currently waiting for the hospital to call and schedule the procedure, but will have it done by the end of the week. In the mean time (and in the weeks that follow) I will be on modified bed rest and see the perinatologist weekly. I'm extremely grateful to have a team of doctors that has things under control. They are genuinely caring people that understand our wacky, sometimes irrational fears and they truly want to carry us through to a positive outcome.
So for now, I figure out how to "modify" my life, prioritize my time and learn to just stick it out in bed some of the time. We are blessed beyond measure to have the support of so many wonderful people and look forward to sharing our baby girl with you in a few short months.

Remembering MeMa

My Grandmother is one of the strongest women I've ever known. Although our stories are not so much the same, we both found ourselves raising little boys on our own, only her hands were twice as full as mine! She was not perfect (and either am I) but I will forever admire her strength and beauty and I know she left with me, some of those gifts. She raised five boys, four of them as a widowed, single mother, then went on to raise two grandchildren. The struggles in my adult life have given me a much greater appreciation for who she was and the challenges she endured. There were definitely times I felt I had missed out on a little bit of her as a child, but I feel that I've gotten to know her best in the past few years as her health and mind were failing her. Even through the veil of dementia and heart failure, the woman that she is and her love for her family shined brightly. I am forever grateful that I've had the privilege of being close to her in the later years and final days of her life.

Another parallel in our life stories, we both found a second chance at love. She and I were blessed to find men who love our children as their own and stepped up to father sons that are not biologically theirs. As her health deteriorated I witnessed the most tangible example of love and sacrifice one could imagine. My Grandfather has taken full responsibility for her care for the past several years. He has adapted their home to meet her needs, taken her to hundreds of appointments, kept track of medications that were constantly changing, lifted her in and out of bed, answered her every call for him, spent countless days and hours in hospitals, slept in a twin bed beside the hospital bed in their home and so much more. He has done it all with a smile and a compassion that words can't describe. He truly loved and cherished her to her very last breath.

Early this morning, she finally gave up the fight of her life. She was welcomed into heaven by a grandson and a great granddaughter whom we never got to know. I know she's already holding those babies and soaking up being reunited with all the others gone before her. 

I pray that her beauty, strength and courage continue to live through me and that I can pass those qualities on to my daughter, who will carry her MeMa's middle name.

Rejoice with Jesus Grandma and shower my Presley with kisses until we're all together again! 

Blank Space

We lost Presley five months ago today, right around this very time of the day. My due date is five days away. It has been looming out there the past few weeks and with it has brought an intense amount of anxiety. I just don't know how to be twelve weeks pregnant instead of thirty nine weeks pregnant. It makes no sense AT ALL. We buried Presley five months to the day before my due date. It really wasn't intentional and I'm not sure we were even aware of it at the time, but it has made March 14th feel all the more overwhelming.
Everyone keeps asking if I'm relieved to have survived my first trimester...not really. Right now I'm still focused on what feels like an eternal wait to viability. I am not going to feel one ounce of relief until I at least make it to the point at which a doctor will attempt to save my baby if something were to go wrong. At this moment in time it's difficult for me to look forward to milestones. We may find out the sex of this baby in a few short days, I was so extremely excited for that ultrasound with Presley, we brought our entire extended family and made dinner reservations to celebrate, this time, it just doesn't seem real. Don't get me wrong, we love this baby immensely, but self preservation has kicked into overdrive and I can't even bring myself to walk past the baby section of a store, better yet consider if we'll be buying pink or blue.
We live in a tiny three bedroom home, which we'll likely move out of before this baby ever arrives and yet one bedroom still sits completely empty. We really could use the extra square footage for the boys to spread out, or maybe an office, but it was meant for Presley, I had just chosen paint swatches the week we lost her. So instead, it's wasted space with a few random baby items stashed in the closet.
Life has been chaotic, the boys started spring football a few weeks ago, our bathrooms were all unexpectedly renovated last month and I started a new job. On the outside I might look like I've got it all together, but if you look a little closer, I'm a mess.
How do I grieve for Presley while anticipating the arrival of our rainbow baby, along with maintaining any bit of sanity for "normal life"?
It feels as though I'm wandering around in a wide open blank space. Nothing is as it should be. It's like I need to hit a rest button for this pregnancy, somehow trigger my brain to kick into maternal gear, but it just isn't happening. I know that this is just a season, I know that I have to take each day as it comes and I know that everything is in God's hands. Living in the "now" is just a tremendous struggle, it feels as if time is standing still. 

Choosing Hope

Well the news broke today, we are indeed pregnant. I cannot even begin to tell you how many discussions Brett and I had about who to tell, when to tell, how to tell who we chose to tell. At first we told nobody, then within days told our closest family members. After waiting a couple weeks, we told our closest friends. It became a bit of an obsession for me, this gigantic, overwhelming secret. A time that should be so filled with joy and excitement was, quite frankly, terrifying and stressful.

A few months ago Jill Duggar (sorry, I do happen to be a bit of a Duggar follower) caught a bunch of bad press when she announced her pregnancy very early. It really got me thinking, who created the stupid unwritten rule that a pregnancy should be kept private for twelve weeks. I hate to break it to you, but statistics aside, 12 weeks is not some magical moment at which all is safe and certain. I made it well past that "safe to make an announcement stage" before losing Presley. I was almost to the half way point in my pregnancy and despite most clinical odds, we lost her.

So today, on a whim, we announced to the Facebook world that we are expecting a baby. We have not made it to the elusive 12 week mark, we know that 1 in 4 women experience a miscarriage in their first trimester (yes, 1 in 4, it's staggering) we know that making an early announcement isn't for everyone. But as my little baby bump begins to develop, we chose hope. We chose to share this journey with those that we love. I choose not to hide in fear. I choose to embrace the love and support that has been such a vital part of our healing. 

What if something goes wrong? What if we face another loss? We will acknowledge and love this child just as we did Presley, no matter the days that it's tiny heart beats. We will not be consumed by fear. It is certainly there, rearing it's ugly head every time I feel a little off, every time I sit staring at an ultrasound monitor, every time I pass the empty nursery that our little girl never came home to. But I will not live in fear, I choose hope. 

Holiday greetings...

'Tis the season for Christmas cards, family photos, Santa pictures and an abundance of social media cuteness. About a week or so ago we received a few prints of photos we took of Presley. We didn't have a camera at the hospital and unfortunately since breaking my phone I'm stuck with the old iPhone 4 until my next upgrade comes around. The quality of the photos isn't spectacular and I've spent a great deal of time regretting that we don't have better pictures. I am grateful that I have the few that we did take. I don't ever want to forget how perfect and tiny she was. I want to always be able to go back and admire her tiny features when she feels far away.

I have only shared the pictures with one person outside of our family, and only did that because they specifically asked.

There have been lots of times that I've wanted to share a few of them, only because I feel like the idea of our baby is so obscure. Only those that were at the hospital saw her outside of ultrasound photos. But then the feeling that I'm "over sharing" takes over and I put my phone away. When you lose a baby there's a constant struggle between the parts of you that want anyone and everyone to acknowledge her existence and see that she WAS here and the parts of you that don't want to wallow in self pity while making those around you extremely uncomfortable. 

We have so few tangible reminders that I carried a baby, that our daughter was here if only for a whisper of time. The pictures have become a bit of an obsession I guess. I have laid awake many, many hours contemplating if I should share them with my kids. I feel like they deserve to see her, to see that this baby sister that they never held or kissed was real. But are they mature enough to absorb the impact of the pictures? I don't know...
Do I share these pictures with family and friends? Will others see them with the same beauty and admiration that we do? Probably not...

So as I look through chubby smiles and dimples sitting on Santa's lap, a super cute Christmas pregnancy announcement, a holiday birth announcement and perfectly complete family photos, where do our photos fit in? How do you express the pride and joy you have for your baby that didn't survive? I suppose I'm just wanting to put it out there, we have photos of our baby, they are beautiful in our eyes, but may not make the best Christmas card. 

Standing at the Edge

It's 1:42 am, the past several days have been absolutely crazy, wonderful and exhausting. I should be far too tired to be wide awake and I am, but here I lie, sleep evading me. I read an article today that compared stillbirth to standing on the brink of heaven and earth. It made so much sense...
Here you are experiencing the miracle of birth, following all the steps that occur in a normal live birth, but at the very same moment, you are experiencing death and eternity. It is the most overwhelming and unnatural feeling. Your body, heart and soul are so conflicted.
Conflicted seems to be my mood most of the time these days. I spent this past weekend making wonderful memories with Noah. We celebrated together as his team won a regional title. I cherished every moment as this is his last season in youth football. It feels as if he is growing up with every second that passes. I am hanging on to every moment with all of my motherly strength. 
But there, in the back of my mind, even in moments of pure joy, grief stabs at my heart. It is still so fresh and always there. It will hit me as I see a mother feeding her baby, a little girl in a tutu or even as I climb onto a roller coaster with my son, knowing I shouldn't be able to ride roller coasters, I should still be carrying a growing baby girl.
As the holidays approach, I feel frozen. It's as if celebrating, moving forward doesn't make sense. Life has derailed and yet it still moves on. And so, I am constantly trying to balance it all. Figuring out how to be Presley's mom while still being Noah and Parker's mom. Providing love, support, packing school lunches, helping with homework, while still clinging to the precious baby girl I held in my arms just six weeks ago.
Today I was supposed to call the medical board to give an interview about my complaint...I didn't do it. Instead, I played thirty rounds of "Heads Up" with Parker. Some days I feel like I have the strength of a warrior headed into battle, others I feel like I can barely move.
I'm not sure I'll ever master the art of mothering children both on earth and in heaven. It's a learning process for sure. For now, I'll focus on not becoming too consumed with either role and just do the best that I can at any given moment.

A glimmer of hope

The more we told our story in the weeks following Presley's death, the more we realized that what we experiened was not acceptable. But we also realized that it wasn't necessarily an isolated situation. As I've spoken to other women who have experienced loss, I am amazed at how many were treated so harshly by the doctors that were supposed to be caring for them. 
Brett and I have had several conversations about the fact that if we hadn't experienced complications and lost our baby, we probably would have been more than happy with the doctor we chose. He was always cheerful and answered our questions, he seemed very positive and upbeat. He certainly appeared to enjoy the pleasant part of his job. Who couldn't truly love ushering new babies into the world and sharing in the joy of their parents hundreds, thousands of times throughout a career? But what about the dark side of that job? If a doctor is so detached from the people he cares for can he really provide the best possible care? It's downright scary that he felt no need to physically examine me or conduct an ultrasound at my follow up visit. It leaves me feeling as if he just doesn't want to deal with that side of obstetrics and that makes me scared for every other woman in his care.
Once we realized the seriousness of what was "missed" after my delivery with Presley, it was hard to know who held the blame. The hospital likely should have been more thorough and my doctor certainly should have caught it (had he bothered to even check). My concern for others in the care of this hospital and doctors led to my decision to seek legal counsel. I in no way was financially motivated, no amount of money will bring my daughter back or change our experience, but maybe legal action would bring our concerns to light and spare another family the same experience. 
Little did I know, this would be another very painful step of our journey. I was referred to a wonderful malpractice attorney who took his time discussing the details of our case and truly wanted to help. Unfortunately, the laws in the state of Arizona make it nearly impossible to present a case of this nature. We absolutely cannot file a suit regarding the death of our baby because it isn't legally considered a death. We cannot pursue a case regarding my after care, because it did not (thankfully) result in death or dismemberment. 
After discussing all of this, I was left wondering again, what to do next.
I had placed a handful of phone calls to the hospital and attempted to obtain email addresses for leadership of the departments that were involved in my care, but met a lot of resistance and dead ends.
I finally made the decision to simply submit a very detailed "review" of my care through the hospital website. This was supposed to be a place for patients to brag about their wonderful, healing experiences. I typed away and poured out my heart, hit send and waited...two weeks went by and I assumed it was disregarded. Last week, I received a phone call from a woman with the hospital whom was in tears when she heard my voice. She was thanking me for my letter and apologizing profusely for our treatment. We talked for nearly thirty minutes and agreed that there is definitely room for a review of policies and procedures as well as some education. My letter has been forwarded on to leadership in the emergency and OB departments. A charge nurse from the ER has already called me personally to discuss the breakdown in my care and I am hoping this will all culminate with a face to face meeting with several members of their staff. 
Where this all will lead I'm not sure. But it only solidifies my desire to advocate for those that will come after me. In this world of loss and heartache lies a gift. The opportunity to see things in a different light. The whole "everything happens for a reason" cliche is not something I hold true. However, I believe that in every situation there is opportunity. I do not want my love for Presley to go unnoticed, I do not want her brief time with me to go to waste. I am praying that God will open doors and pave the way for something beautiful to come from the ashes.
"...and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crownof beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." 

Isaiah 61:3

Saying Goodbye

The morning after the sleepless night in which we lost Presley, the first task on my list was to make arrangements for her tiny body. Due to the confusion at the hospital, I was beyond afraid to leave her there any longer than necessary. My sister and I looked over the list of funeral homes provided by the social worker. If you've never had to do this, I can tell you it is one of the most baffling things to comprehend. How do you choose? Do you look at price, reviews, location??? Some offer discounts for infants and children, but it didn't feel right to search for a bargain when burying your daughter. So many thoughts raced through my mind, but ultimately it was just an urgency to pick something.
I had initially wanted to bury her near my grandparents, but that wasn't an option. Brett and I then discussed various locations and at the time felt the need to have her as close to us as possible. We know that she isn't there, I know with every fiber of my being that Presley is with Jesus. But when you lose a baby that you held for only moments in your arms, there is an indescribable need to have tangible pieces of them. For us, one of those things is the nearness of Presley's grave, we can go there often, take momentous and just spend time dreaming of who she might of been and wishing she were here.

Through a pretty basic process of elimination the first call we made was to Heritage at the Church of Joy campus. In addition to being close to where we live, I taught preschool there for many years, my boys went to school there and in many ways it will always feel a little like home to me. God had His hand in the placing of that phone call. After the traumatic experiences at the hospital the night before, we were treated with so much care and compassion by the staff at the mortuary. They handled every detail of our daughter's service and burial beautifully and were unbelievably gracious, for that I will always be grateful.
We decided to do a small graveside service with just our close family. I am normally such a social, more the merrier person, but  the thought of being surrounded by so many people and the fear of unknowingly leaving someone out, was just too much.
So on Tuesday, October 14th we gathered with our parents and siblings and laid our baby girl to rest. The grief and finality we experienced that morning still take my breath away. Seeing my boys in so much pain at the loss of their little sister is by far the most difficult thing I have ever experienced as a mother. We were blessed to have a long time friend and pastor conduct the service. He knew just the words we needed to hear and was such a wonderful, comforting presence. 

We cried, we prayed, we listened to "Nothing Lasts for Long" by The Samples, we laid pink roses in the ground and we let her go. As painful as they are I will always hold the memories of that day close to my heart. At the last minute I asked a family friend to take photos of the service. I realized that we would have so little to remember Presley by; no first steps, no birthday photos, no first days of school...so I needed photos of that day. The day that we honored and celebrated the existence of my daughter, if even for just moments.

Following up

The days that followed Presley's death are a bit of a blur, but there are moments and details that stand out in striking clarity. One thing that seemed of vital importance was to follow up with my OB. I called immediately Monday morning and requested a same day appointment, explaining to the scheduler what had occurred. She was cold and short with me, not so much as an "I'm sorry to hear that." 

I will never, ever forget sitting in the waiting room of that doctor's office (for over an hour). As we waited a couple came out from an ultrasound and sat directly beside us. They loudly shared their shock with a room full of strangers as they were just informed they were expecting twins and proceeded to call every member of their family to share the good news. I too have sat in that very room and marveled over the first few photos of our baby, but I have a new appreciation for the fact that not every woman in those chairs is elated over expecting a new healthy baby. Tragedies and heartbreak occur there every day.

When we were finally called back by a nurse, who we had seen just days earlier due to my concerns, she greeted us and asked if I was still having trouble. She had no idea why I was there. Had that not been noted in my chart when they were contacted by the hospital, when I scheduled the appointment? Or had they just not taken the time to look at my chart? Whichever it was, it made for an awkward walk down the hall to the exam room. The doctor stepped in a few moments later, shook our hands and said "Heard you guys had a rough weekend." As if losing your baby in the second trimester of pregnancy is comparable to rainy weather or a bad date.

The appointment went from bad to worse as he explained that the best cure for a loss like this is to just get pregnant again. He told us we'd be back again in a few months with a healthy pregnancy and forget all about this other stuff. Let me be very clear, no future baby will ever erase the memory of holding tiny, peaceful Presley in our arms and kissing her goodbye. Nothing.

I voiced concerns about a possible infection, which he brushed off and asked if I needed to return for a follow up physical exam, which was shot down. If I wasn't in such utter shock and despair at the time, I think I would have run from that office and alerted every woman in the waiting room that she was in the hands of a heartless and negligent doctor. I suppose it's better that shock kept me from that. 

I am so, so grateful that I followed my instincts and immediately found a new doctor. Two weeks after Presley's birth it was discovered that I had large portions of tissue remaining and was in danger of being sceptic and possibly having permanent uterine damage. I was treated and am now in the care of a an absolutely amazing, caring, attentive doctor whom I trust fully. 

This experience has taught me so many things, I know now from the early bleeding to my after care that you have to listen to your body and that not all doctors are to be trusted with your care. I second guessed my care throughout the weeks leading up to Presley's death but kept convincing myself that a doctor wouldn't tell me we were ok if we weren't. I will question the "what ifs" for the rest of my days. But I will move forward in an entirely different light.

The day that everything changed

I arrived at the hospital around 4:30pm, went through the ER and was pointed in the direction of OB triage. I waited a couple minutes as the nurse at the desk helped another couple. When she called me forward I explained that I was a little over 18 weeks and without asking anything else about my situation said I'd have to go to the ER, because they couldn't see any patients earlier than 20 weeks (I was TEN days away from their cut off). Frustrated, but determined to be seen ASAP I hurried back through a maze of construction to ER admitting. As I explained my symptoms, the triage nurse sweetly smiled and asked if I was certain I wasn't having "bladder issues" I assured her that wasn't the case and after weighing me and taking my temperature they took me straight to a room. The nurse that initially saw me explained that they had to contact my doctor before determining how they wanted to diagnose whether or not my water had truly broken. They could order an ultrasound to check fluid levels or conduct a swab test, but that had to be done in labor and delivery and I quickly got the idea they were avoiding transferring me to that floor. At this point I wasn't having contractions, so they were pretty certain I was "just fine"
As I waited to be taken for an ultrasound, the nurse decided to do a pelvic exam. This was a turning point in my labor. Once she completed the exam, I immediately started having contractions that were strong and less than two minutes apart. Shortly after that Brett and my sister arrived, I was so grateful to no longer be alone, this was going from bad to worse very quickly. We waited maybe 15-20 minutes to be taken for the ultrasound, during this time the ER doctor stepped in and said that they had to "determine I wasn't having a miscarriage" before they could do anything else.
Having delivered two babies previously, I was baffled that I wasn't being monitored for contractions and the baby wasn't being monitored in any way. I had experienced preterm labor before and the first thing they do is place you on fetal heart monitors and monitor contractions. How could they help me if they didn't know what was happening???
The ultrasound was excruciating, they wouldn't let us see the monitor, nor could the tech give us any info. I laid there, still leaking fluid, staring at the ceiling and prayed with all my strength. By the time I was wheeled back to the room, contractions were extremely intense and I began to get sick. My sister stepped out and asked a nurse to come in. After a few minutes they handed me a Vicodin and again left the room. Shortly after taking the pain medication, with no medical staff present and haven't being checked for nearly an hour, I delivered Presley with Brett and my sister by my side. I remember the fear and crying "I'm losing her" I knew she was under the sheet and I asked my sister to get some help. Before she stepped out, a moment I will never forget, she checked and new that it was over. The minutes after her delivery were a blur. Brett and I were in shock and utterly devastated. It happened so quickly and if the medical staff was aware of what was taking place, they never informed us. We were left in the back corner of the emergency room to deliver our daughter alone.
The hours that followed were full of confusion, I eventually contacted my friend Karen, with Forget Me Not, because we were being treated as if our baby didn't exist. The OB doctor that eventually saw us for less than five minutes told us that we would likely never know why we lost our baby and stated that the hospital could "dispose of her remains" for us. I was terrified. There I had sat clutching my baby girl for hours. She had the tiniest fingers and toes, beautiful lips, eye brows, eye lashes...and we were expected to just throw here away?!? I insisted we sign documents to make arrangement with a mortuary. This led to even more confusion, I was asked to sign papers multiple times because nobody seemed to know the proper protocol. Eventually we saw a social worker who seemed to know what to do. But that fear was gripping me. What if we couldn't get our baby back?
After Brett and I had some time with Presley and our families were able to spend a few moments with her, we finally made the impossible decision to let her go. What happened next, I will spare you the details, but our baby was treated with absolutely no dignity. It is a memory forever seared into my mind.
I share this part of our story in so much detail because every step of the way, and even today, I am at a loss as to why a pregnant woman, at any stage of pregnancy would be turned away from a triage where staff specializing in this area can treat a patient. If I had discovered the day before in my doctor's office that my baby's heart was no longer beating, I would have been scheduled for an induction through labor and delivery and received much different care. But because my baby was (likely) still alive when I arrived but my labor couldn't be stopped, I was forced through the ER where they were completely and totally ill-equipped for my situation. It is heartbreaking and makes no sense. I have reached out to the hospital in various ways, not to lodge a complaint, but to spark a conversation about how traumatic this experience was. But my phone calls and emails have gone unanswered. My hope is that by speaking out, my voice might be heard. My prayer is that somehow no other family will have to face this life altering experience in the same way.

How it began

These next few posts will not be for the faint of heart. My intention is not to disturb or traumatize anyone. If you're not prepared to hear details of my pregnancy loss, turn back now. I completely understand that it's not something everyone wants to be a part of and I truly respect your feelings. 

Everything about my pregnancy with Presley was by the book the first 15 weeks. I began to show VERY quickly, which led to any early announcement. I was absolutely convinced I was carrying twins until I saw the first ultrasound, with just one tiny heartbeat. I wasn't nearly as sick as I had been during my pregnancy with Parker, which was a blessing. I did feel like I had been hit by a truck most days, but that could be expected, right? I am thirty five years old, my last pregnancy was eleven years ago, I was in the process of moving into a new home and keeping up with two adolescent boys. Because of the timing of our first prenatal visit, it turned out that we received and ultrasound at each of our first four appointments. It was exciting to be able to see our baby healthy, moving around and growing each time. At just over 14 weeks we took our entire extended family for a gender reveal ultrasound. There on a big screen, with 15 of our loved ones, we learned we were expecting a girl. We were SO very excited and I was in total disbelief! It took a few days to really sink in before I started to embrace the frills and pink.

Then, things began to change.

On Monday, September 29, I woke up spotting just a tiny little bit. I tried to tell myself not to panic, I had heard of this happening in pregnancy, even though I had never experienced it myself. Throughout the morning it persisted and panic took over. I had experienced some abdominal pain over the weekend, nothing excruciating, attributed it to the fact that my belly was rapidly expanding. I called the doctor and his medical assistant sweetly offered to let me come in for an ultrasound just to give me peace of mind. I was terrified as we sat waiting to see our little girl on that monitor, but sure enough, there she was. Heart strongly beating, hands and feet moving. The tech even double checked her gender, I was now 16 weeks and it was most definitely a girl. The doctor met with us for a few minutes, assured us that everything looked wonderful and that my unexplained bleeding was nothing to be concerned about. 

The spotting continued throughout the week and my concern grew as we were preparing to travel to Denver with the boys. I called the doctor again on Friday, October 3, and spoke to the medical assistant, who encouraged me to take the trip and feel comfortable doing all the things I would normally do. She assured me again that the baby was healthy, everything looked great, I had nothing to worry about. We made the trip and had an amazing time making lifelong memories with the boys. We knew that this would likely be the last big trip we took as a family of four and we made the most of it. I was definitely feeling uncomfortable, I kept saying that I felt so much further along than I was. There was a lot of pressure and lower back pain. But every pregnancy is different, right? 

We returned from Denver on Monday, October 6, and throughout the week the bleeding persisted and eventually increased to the point that I was convinced something was wrong.

On Wednesday, October 8, I went back to my doctor's office, they were able to squeeze me in at the very end of the day. This time I saw the doctor before having an ultrasound, I burst into tears the moment he entered the room and, all smiles, he assured me that everything was fine. He checked her heartbeat, which was 158 bpm and sent me for another ultrasound, just to put me at ease. This ultrasound went about the same as the last, there she was, heart strongly flickering, squirming around, placenta looked "fine" nothing to worry about. Just that unexplained bleeding that had me so worried.

I came home and just felt awful all night long. I remember texting Brett and telling him I thought I was coming down with the flu. The next day I pretty much stayed off my feet all morning and drank as much water as I could. I picked my nephews up from preschool, fed them lunch and got into my bed while they napped. As I was laying there, I began to leak fluid. I knew immediately that's what was happening. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but every time I moved at all, sat up, took a step, there it was. I called my mom and sister completely hysterical and raced to the hospital. I chose not to go to the closest ER because I knew that Banner Thunderbird had an OB triage and wonderful labor and delivery staff. I knew that I'd get the best of care if I drove just a few extra miles...

It turns out, I was completely and totally wrong.

What now?

For four weeks I have struggled with one recurring, nagging question...what now???
When you're expecting a baby that becomes the primary focus in your life. You try to eat the right things, rest enough, endure discomfort, illness and fatigue, all with one final goal in mind. I can tolerate gaining weight, stretch marks, aches, pains, nausea, all because I know it is worth it. That snuggled, sweet smelling bundle of joy that rests on your chest at the end of nine long months is completely and totally worth every discomfort and sacrifice you make during pregnancy.
But what do you do when you've endured the unpleasantries, survived the crucial first trimester and then, in the blink of an eye, it's over. Your body has betrayed you and there is no softly breathing, warm cuddly baby to make all those not so pleasant moments just disappear?
My experience (which we'll discuss in more detail later) was, in one word, awful. There is never a "good" part of losing the baby you had hoped for, dreamed of, carried close to your heart, but there are ways to make it a little more bearable. Unfortunately, for Brett and I, none of those things happened. 
As I have laid awake countless hours at night, sat mindlessly at my boys football practices, drove around town doing the errands I now hate but can't avoid, that one questions keeps haunting me...what now?
I have come to the conclusion that I must share our story. I must be brutally honest, leave no stone unturned, I must yell from the mountaintops (or a blog) until our story is heard. I will not allow Presley's birth and death to be in vain. I will not sit by quietly while one more family suffers the same experience. I will advocate for infant loss families with every bit of my strength. 
If hearing our story makes you uncomfortable, it should. If you are appalled, frustrated, dismayed, allow that to spark in you the desire to promote change. Doctors are supposed to be trusted. Hospitals are supposed to provide safety and healing. Our loss has proven that unfortunately, that's not always the way it works.
I have made an effort to seek legal advice, reach out to patient advocates, file complaints with the medical board; at every turn, I am met with avoidance and dead ends. So I will take to blogging, because my voice must be heard. Please know that I am not motivated by anger and bitterness, but by an overwhelming desire to educate and advocate for others who may have to walk this same, tragic road.