Revisiting the Past

In late July 2014, a nurse wheeled me, with empty arms, past happy moms with babies, through the hospital, and out to where Matt was waiting with the car. I carefully stepped into the van and sat, waiting on Matt to walk around to the other side. As I looked at the huge glass windows that lined the walkway by the entrance, I watched the nurse who wheeled me out wipe tears from her eyes as she pushed the chair back towards the labor and delivery portion of the hospital. 

I’ve thought about that moment numerous times since that day. Particularly this past week, when despite several moves out of state and back in the last 6 years, I found myself back at that same hospital. It was probably the last place on the planet that I wanted to deliver baby number four, but clearly God had other plans for us.

One cold winter morning, I grinned as the plus sign on the pregnancy test screamed “Positive.” Three weeks later, Covid 19 became a reality in our country, and with it came many unknowns, restrictions, and drastic changes to every day life. Trips were canceled, Mark’s preschool shut down, Matt was working from home, and I attended all of my OBGYN appointments alone. It was a truly strange time to be expecting a baby. In the midst of it all, Matt’s job moved us back to a neighboring state where we previously lived. Although I was excited to be closer to family and to return to the OBGYN that delivered both Isabelle and Mark, the weight of everything left me anxious and my blog quiet.

We settled in quickly after our move, and my fourth pregnancy continued fairly uneventfully until the last month and a half. Some of my bloodwork began to show lower than normal platelet levels. My doctors monitored them for a while until 36 weeks when they dipped below the levels acceptable by our local hospital. I would need to transfer care for the remaining 2 weeks and deliver at a larger hospital over an hour and a half away. Unfortunately, this was the hospital that Isabelle and I were transferred to soon after her birth. I was definitely not thrilled about the idea of delivering a baby where I spent the worst day of my life. What if something went wrong again? What if I had to leave that hospital empty-armed for a second time?

At my first appointment with my new OBGYN, the doctors decided that it would be best to deliver right at 37 weeks – 3 days after that same appointment. This gave me even less time to fully process the idea of heading back to that hospital. We scrambled to get things together and showed up at the hospital that Friday afternoon.

Thank God, all went relatively smoothly, and Blaise Kevin joined us on the outside the evening of October 9th. He weighed in at 7lbs and 10oz and is doing wonderfully. 

Two days later Matt walked next to me carrying Blaise in the carseat. The nurse wheeled me, while I held a framed picture of Isabelle, past happy moms with babies and through the hospital. It seemed like an appropriate ending to a hospital stay that forced me to confront the place where I spent the most difficult moments of my life. 

“I never got to take her home,” I said to the nurse looking down at the picture. “I know,” she replied with a caring smile, giving me time to process the journey we were taking through the halls and out to the car. I allowed myself to remember, to mourn, and to also move forward from that place that has often haunted my memories of that day. We eventually emerged through the exit doors and I carefully stepped into the car thinking about everything that had changed in the last 6 years. My heart still hurt and missed Isabelle, but was also filled with joy for the gift of her 3 brothers and all the ways in which God has blessed our life since that time. It was a reminder that God can take the darkest moments of our life and make something beautiful from it. 

I watched the nurse push the chair back through the doors, past the big windows, and down the hall back to labor and delivery. As she walked by the windows, she looked out and smiled at me as Matt started the car and we began to drive away. 

This year I was reminded more than ever of the importance the medical profession plays in the lives of those who have lost babies. They are often first hand witnesses and are there in the early raw hours of a loss. Thank you to the compassionate doctors who noticed my loss in my medical chart and kept this in mind during appointments. Thank you to the doctors who spent time during appointments easing my anxiety and providing encouraging words during each of my three pregnancies after Isabelle. Thank you to the nurses who sat by Matt’s and my sides in the early hours after we lost Isabelle listening to and comforting us. Thank you to the nurses who physically cared for me at the hospital when every pain and bodily change was a reminder of the life that was lost. Thank you for the strength you showed and the tears you shed: Both were a recognition that my daughter’s life was valued and important even if she only lived for one day. Thank you for all that you do.

October is a month devoted to raising awareness of pregnancy and infant loss. It is a difficult topic that strikes a chord with more people than what we may realize. One in four women will experience the loss of a child during pregnancy or after. That is a huge number of people! Unfortunately, the topic makes people uncomfortable, and these women often grieve alone. This month is all about encouraging people to speak out and encouraging those who love them to show support. Know someone who lost a baby? HERE are a few ideas on how to help.

Today, October 15, consider participating in the Wave of Light at 7pm. Simply light a candle for all the sweet babies in heaven, snap a picture, and share it on social media to help remove the stigma that comes with pregnancy and infant loss. Be sure to include #WaveOfLight2020. Loss is an uncomfortable topic, but talking about it helps those who are grieving to move forward and to know that they are not alone on their grieving journey.