How it feels when your baby is born still
You get the news: "I am sorry, your baby has died. There is no movement, no heartbeat." You get a glimpse of your ultrasound chart. "Fetal demise". You feel like screaming. Fetal demise? My baby has died. How dare you use such cold and technical terms to describe what has just happened to my baby. My entire world has been ripped from my arms. My little sidekick and best bud for the past eight months will soon be with me no more.
You leave the clinic not quite sure what to think. It is supper time and you are starving because you are pregnant, but the baby you are carrying has no heartbeat and you do not feel like eating.
You go home, make the phone calls to your family and friends. Some are very supportive and helpful. Others are spouting cliches such as "God does not give us more than we can handle," or "Everything happens for a reason." Your closest friends and family members remain calm and say "We are here for you."
You lie in your husbands arms, sobbing, clinging to scriptures, prayers, but nothing is helping. You feel guilty in realizing that in the past few hours of finding out your baby has died, you neglected to cry. Everything is overwhelming; it is all too much. Make it stop. You want to die. You feel like it would be easier to take a bunch of pills and just end it all. Then, and only then, can you meet your beloved baby face to face. You hang on, making the harder choice to go on living, because you could not do that to your husband and make his pain even worse.
You are admitted to the hospital for an induction at midnight. The floor is quiet, but you hear a new baby born throughout the night. The cries pierce your soul. That should be your baby crying too. Two days later and labor has finally started slowly. You are still in the hospital and 3 more babies have been born. You need to get out of this hospital room, but the fear that you can't face the joyous cries from outside your room keeps you paralyzed. Thank goodness for family. Thank God that he is there. "I know you are there. Why have you done this to me?"
Your water breaks and hard labor begins. You feel as if you can't go in. There is no incentive to push. There is no reward for this labor.
Your baby is born. He is placed on your chest. "A boy, a beautiful baby boy. I am so in love. Look at his beautiful face. Look at those sweet fingers and toes. I want to keep him forever." But, you can't. This is only temporary.
The room is silent. Your nurses are wonderful, calm, and kind. They treat you with such care and treat your baby with dignity.
You fall asleep. The exhaustion of labor combined with 30 plus hours of no sleep has left you exhausted. You wake up 2 hours later, feeling guilty that you lost some of the precious time you had with your son. It's ok, he is being snuggled by his aunt. He is safe and sound.
You spend a wonderful day with your baby: loving him, holding him, cherishing him and taking the most beautiful photos.
You are discharged from the hospital. You leave your baby in his crib. Something doesn't feel right. You hold off on the tears; you try to stay strong.
You leave the hospital with a box and some papers in your arms, where your baby should be. You feel like a failure. You have lost your identity. "The whole world is laughing at me, here's one more thing I could not succeed at; keeping my baby alive."
People are so wonderful and so kind. You feel loved and cared for. You are going to experience a whirlwind of emotions in the upcoming year. You feel so many things. Most importantly, you feel like a Mom, and you definitely are. Don't ever forget it. You will never forget your precious baby. 💙💙
You leave the clinic not quite sure what to think. It is supper time and you are starving because you are pregnant, but the baby you are carrying has no heartbeat and you do not feel like eating.
You go home, make the phone calls to your family and friends. Some are very supportive and helpful. Others are spouting cliches such as "God does not give us more than we can handle," or "Everything happens for a reason." Your closest friends and family members remain calm and say "We are here for you."
You lie in your husbands arms, sobbing, clinging to scriptures, prayers, but nothing is helping. You feel guilty in realizing that in the past few hours of finding out your baby has died, you neglected to cry. Everything is overwhelming; it is all too much. Make it stop. You want to die. You feel like it would be easier to take a bunch of pills and just end it all. Then, and only then, can you meet your beloved baby face to face. You hang on, making the harder choice to go on living, because you could not do that to your husband and make his pain even worse.
You are admitted to the hospital for an induction at midnight. The floor is quiet, but you hear a new baby born throughout the night. The cries pierce your soul. That should be your baby crying too. Two days later and labor has finally started slowly. You are still in the hospital and 3 more babies have been born. You need to get out of this hospital room, but the fear that you can't face the joyous cries from outside your room keeps you paralyzed. Thank goodness for family. Thank God that he is there. "I know you are there. Why have you done this to me?"
Your water breaks and hard labor begins. You feel as if you can't go in. There is no incentive to push. There is no reward for this labor.
Your baby is born. He is placed on your chest. "A boy, a beautiful baby boy. I am so in love. Look at his beautiful face. Look at those sweet fingers and toes. I want to keep him forever." But, you can't. This is only temporary.
The room is silent. Your nurses are wonderful, calm, and kind. They treat you with such care and treat your baby with dignity.
You fall asleep. The exhaustion of labor combined with 30 plus hours of no sleep has left you exhausted. You wake up 2 hours later, feeling guilty that you lost some of the precious time you had with your son. It's ok, he is being snuggled by his aunt. He is safe and sound.
You spend a wonderful day with your baby: loving him, holding him, cherishing him and taking the most beautiful photos.
You are discharged from the hospital. You leave your baby in his crib. Something doesn't feel right. You hold off on the tears; you try to stay strong.
You leave the hospital with a box and some papers in your arms, where your baby should be. You feel like a failure. You have lost your identity. "The whole world is laughing at me, here's one more thing I could not succeed at; keeping my baby alive."
People are so wonderful and so kind. You feel loved and cared for. You are going to experience a whirlwind of emotions in the upcoming year. You feel so many things. Most importantly, you feel like a Mom, and you definitely are. Don't ever forget it. You will never forget your precious baby. 💙💙
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