I was wrong, Carmen Marie. In my mind, I had been building up labor and delivery to be the most difficult day of my life. And I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Your daddy and I didn’t get much sleep the night before. Between getting your brother to bed at your grandparents house, packing for the hospital, and getting the house ready for the worker who was coming to get some of the remodeling done while we would be away, I think we only got 4 hours of sleep. You see, we were in the midst of renovating our house, planning on having everything done in anticipation of your arrival in March. But when we found out you would be coming early, it just wouldn’t have been possible. Nevertheless, we had already scheduled work to be done. So as much as your mama disliked the idea of coming home from the hospital to plywood floors and chaotic furniture arrangements, we made do.
When we arrived at the hospital at 6 in the morning, we discovered we were early. But your mama didn’t mind and was actually happy to have a few moments to write you a quick letter while your daddy tried to get one last hour of sleep. They started my medication at 7:30, and then we waited. And waited. Got another dose of labor-inducing medication. And waited. Your daddy worked and your mama caught up on some tv shows on her computer. Your abuela and grandpa came to visit for a few minutes, and bring us some lunch.
Your mama’s nurse, Janet, was so kind. I had been praying for the nursing staff, and God definitely answered those prayers (more on that later). After lunch the contractions started to get stronger and a bit more painful and your mama’s water broke, so I was started on IV fluids to prepare me for getting an epidural and another dose of induction medication. The contractions were nowhere near as terrible as what I endured to have your brother, but having you stillborn was awful enough and I refused to suffer needlessly on top of that. I know it sounds crazy, but I wanted to enjoy you, and getting to meet you, not be so focused on the pain (or doped up on narcotics instead of just physically numbed by an epidural) that I’d take for granted how amazing you are.
Don’t get me wrong, epidurals aren’t exactly pleasant. The last time I had gotten one I was so delirious from the pain of contractions, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like. This time, being much more lucid, I felt everything. And I cried my eyes out. But your daddy was there to hold me up, along with a kind hospital worker, Dawn, who comes to help support couples in stillbirth and other traumatic birthing situations. I was so grateful for her, yet another person God brought to us to show us how much He cares for us. Soon after, the nurses changed shifts and we were blessed with a new nurse, Elizabeth. After she had gotten caught up to speed with everything, she looked at me and asked quietly, “Do you know Katie ______?” I said yes, she’s a friend of my neighbor’s who we’ve met up with at the park for playdates before… but I couldn’t understand how she would even know to ask if I knew her; I’d only spent time with her occasionally over the summer. So I asked Elizabeth how she knew about the connection, and she replied “Katie is one of the women in my bible study, and we’ve been praying for you and your family because she told us about your situation. I saw you on the schedule today and was wondering if I’d be your nurse!” Words were beyond me for a few minutes as tears of joy and gratefulness filled my eyes and peace filled my heart.
I’ve always believed God puts people in our lives for very specific reasons. Sometimes we recognize it (like when your mama met your daddy! I thank God for him every day.), and sometimes we don’t. Today was one of those days where I could see Jesus in everyone. It was so beautiful, just thinking about it is making me cry right now. I only hope that, despite the situation, maybe they were able to see Him in me too.
From there, everything went so smoothly, it was more than we could have ever hoped for, and exactly what we had been praying for. The delivery was a surprise, to myself and everyone else! You were so tiny, and with the epidural I actually didn’t feel a thing. You were half delivered by our nurse Elizabeth and half by my doctor who happened to be stopping in to check on me and administer another dose of the induction medication (which we obviously ended up not needing!). You were born at 5:07 pm: 5 ounces, 8 inches. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I was afraid to look at you at first. I was afraid you wouldn’t look like the perfect little baby girl I’ve envisioned in my head. But your daddy brought you over to me, and Carmen Marie, you were beautiful. So tiny and beautiful. Maybe not by this world’s standards, but to your mama you were perfect. And that is how I will always remember you.
I was convinced that I would be so sad after the delivery, but I can’t even explain how powerful the peace that washed over me was. God is so good. We asked Him for the grace and strength to face this tragedy and He gave us so much more than we had even known to ask for.
Your abuela and grandpa Tom came to see you and bring us dinner, and your siti and grandpa Mark came too, but your mama and daddy were tired, so we went to sleep not too long after. You stayed right next to us, in the bassinet you would have slept in if you were born alive. The next morning wasn’t too eventful, but your daddy and I took care of paperwork and your mama took a million pictures of you and your grandpa Tom took some your daddy and I holding you. It would have been nice to have a few with our whole family, your big brother included, but we had already made the decision that right now Tommy is just too young to understand what had happened. We are very much looking forward to the day he’s old enough for us to tell him all about his baby sister in Heaven, though!
But then, baby girl, then came the worst moment of my life. I was so wrong when I thought yesterday was going to be the most difficult day of my life. Instead it was today, when we had to leave you at the hospital to be picked up by the funeral home that will be cremating you. Your daddy and I cried so hard, knowing it would be the last time we’d hold you. We blessed you and kissed you and though my heart was screaming “no!” and begging me not to, we said goodbye to your little body.
It was so bright and sunny outside when we walked out of the hospital. It didn’t make anything easier, other than my ability to thank God for something, anything, in that moment. My heart may never be whole again after having to say goodbye to you, but if nothing else, I will continue to praise Him with what’s left of it. I can’t imagine a life without hope and without Him to cling to. I’m not sure if I’d ever be able to recover from this without that. Regardless, my soul is forever changed, perhaps for the better.
Miss you and love you,
Mama
“Anyone who is joined to Christ is a new being; the old is gone, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17