As I explained in my last post, Jim and I don't currently know what to do. Do we try IVF again? Explore adoptions more? Try donor eggs? Do we not try to have children anymore?
It all sounds simple summarized there, but we need a break while we sort all of this out. I will still be around for any questions and comments but for a bit I'll be sharing some guest blogs by wonderful men and women that have offered to share a glimpse into some of their most painful experiences in the hopes of sharing helping others.
Let me introduce you to Celeste, a dear friend of mine through the infertility community, who unbelievably lost both of her twins after conceiving via IVF. She had already suffered years of disappointment before this happened.
After losing the first twin at 8 weeks, Celeste's second twin, a girl named Rosa Kimberly, was diagnosed with multiple congenital anomalies. Because there was a chance Rosa might make it, Celeste and her husband decided to carry the pregnancy and planned for her to have multiple surgeries after her birth. Unfortunately, Rosa died in the womb at 30 weeks and 3 days, and was stillborn the next day.
I talk a lot about how important it is that Jim and I had the choice to terminate our pregnancy when we did to save Grace pain, and it's just as important to me that Celeste and her husband had, and continue to have the choice to do what they did. Every family should be able to do what is best for them and I 100% support Celeste and her husband's decision and am so touched by her sharing her experience.
Here is Celeste's account of that experience, which is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking:
I Gave Birth to an Angel
I have been thinking about this moment & experience nonstop since it happened. But I haven't been able to find the words to adequately express the power and love within. I'm going to try now to tell the story. I hope I do it justice.
Friday, May 29, 2015 will forever be a sad, dark day. It is the day that we found out about Rosa Kimberly's fetal demise. Once Dr. Moldenhauer confirmed that Rosa's heart had stopped, she was silent for a long while. I knew what she was going to say, but waited for her words. Finally, she said, "I'm so sorry..."
I turned on the exam table to face my husband, and curled up in a ball. The tears streamed down my face and my voice was trapped in my throat. Then the wailing started and John and I wept as the doctor and nurse excused themselves from the room to give us some privacy.
When the doctor came back in, she spoke gently to us about our options. I had to deliver the baby. The safest, healthiest way for me was a vaginal birth rather than a C-section. I flashed back in my mind to the appointment two weeks ago with Dr. Martinez. He confirmed that Rosa's birth would be a certain C-section with the only exception being if she were to pass away in the womb. I remember thinking, 'God forbid that ever become an option,' and then stuffing the fear and horrible scenario away in my mind. How could this be happening?
As the doctor spoke to me, I kept thinking of the scene in "Divergent" when Tris is in the simulation. She's trapped in the glass case, and it is quickly filling with water. She snaps out of her panic and the world seems to float along in slow motion as she looks at her reflection in the watery glass. Her reflection looks back at her and says, "This isn't real." She taps the glass with her finger and it cracks. Calmly and peacefully, she taps on the glass until suddenly, the glass shatters and gives way to the weight of the water.
We settled very quickly on a vaginal birth, and now the question was when to start the induction. I had taken my prescription of Lovenox about six hours earlier, so the doctors wanted to wait for the medication to clear from my system. I told the medical team that I didn't want an epidural or any pain medications, but they insisted that we wait just in case I changed my mind. We were offered the chance to go home and gather our things, or to stay at the hospital. The thought of walking around with my daughter's lifeless body inside of me... I just couldn't bear the thought of the world going on like nothing had happened when in actuality our world would never be the same. We decided to stay at the hospital until it was time.
We were taken from the triage room to a delivery room at the end of the hallway. Dr. Ntoso told me to eat a good meal. I would need my strength. But food turned my stomach, I was too upset to eat. I managed to eat chicken noodle soup and part of a soft pretzel.
John called his parents to tell them the awful news... I called mine. I could hardly say a sentence without sobbing into the phone. My mother cried back on the other end of the line as she made sense of what I was saying. She said they'd be there soon.
We spoke to Dr. Cole and went over the plan we made just two days before. The "palliative care plan" just incase the unthinkable happened. Did we want to take pictures? Did we want to make momentos? Hand prints, cut locks of her hair... When we made the plan, I had hoped to never see it again. Then Dr. Moldenhauer called to tell me that we would plan to meet Rosa on June 24th. But now that wouldn't be happening...
My parents & sister arrived while we were talking to Dr. Cole. They said hello, and then we told them we'd get them when we were done. Honestly, I can't remember much of what was said. I felt like I was in a fog.
My brother came up and brought me a picture that my nephew made. Dr. Ntoso came in at 8:00pm to give me the first dose of misoprostol. I felt mild contractions within ten minutes. My family left around 9:00 or 9:30. I was sleeping by 10:00pm. The nurse and doctor came back in at midnight to put in the next dose. I couldn't fall back to sleep, so around 2:00am I asked for an Ambien. The plan was to get two more doses of the misoprostol at 4:00am and 8:00am, but I woke up at 6:00am and the nurse told me that they decided to wait because my contractions were too close together.
At 9:15am on Saturday, the doctor put in the next dose. Again, I felt mild contractions within 10 minutes. At this point, my cervix was 70% effaced and 2 cm dilated. My parents, sisters and brother all came back to be with us. I called Father Bruce to tell him what was happening, and he said he'd come around 1:30pm. My best friend, Kim, drove up from Virginia. My best friend, Kristen, came too.
The next dose of misoprostol was put in at 1:15pm. The contractions started to become much more painful, but I was able to manage them by breathing through them. I sat on the birthing ball, and held onto the side of the bed. I started feeling nauseous and as I mentioned this to the nurse I said that I should probably have a puke bucket nearby. Actually, I need one RIGHT NOW. The second it was handed to me, I got sick. I told the nurse that I wanted some anti-nausea medication. I could deal with most physical pain, but nausea and vomiting bring out the wimp in me. I got some zofran and as it was dissolving under my tongue, I felt the nausea creep back.
Kim took a deep breath and said, "So what mile are we on?" She was referencing a marathon because she knows how meaningful that is to me. I mumbled, "I don't know," while reaching for the puke bucket and vomited again. So much for the zofran! Kristen went to tell the nurse, and they gave me an intravenous version of the medication. The nausea went away almost instantly.
Father Bruce arrived around 2:00pm, and everyone cleared out of the room so John & I could talk to him privately. I told him that I might not be able to participate in the conversation too well because the contractions were getting intense. It wasn't long before I think I scared him! He said that he was present for his wife's three C-sections, but this was the first time that he was ever in the room with a laboring woman. I'm sure it wasn't pretty to witness! He & John eventually left the room, and the nurse stayed with me.
I went back and forth between the birthing ball and the rocking chair. At some point, I think my water broke. That was a surprise to me because there was no amniotic fluid detectable over the past six weeks. The contractions were so intensely painful. I started to wonder if I could do this without medications. I had no idea that I was in active labor at this point. I just knew that it was extremely painful.
The midwife checked on me at some point within all this. I was 80% effaced and 4 cm dilated. She apologized saying, "I know you probably hoped to be farther along." I hadn't really hoped for anything... I had no expectations for this experience. The only thing I had invested my hope in for the past three years was already gone.
Father Bruce came back in the room and said a blessing over me and the baby. The contractions made it very hard to focus, but I'm glad he was there to do that for us.
John & I stayed in the room alone from this point with the nurse & midwife coming in every now and then to check. John tried to comfort me, but nothing made me feel better. He asked me questions. I couldn't answer except in one word responses. "Water." He came running to my side with the water mug. I got up from the birthing ball and walked towards the bathroom. He came running over to move my IV pole. He was trying so hard to take care of me, and find out what I needed and wanted. I couldn't respond to him. I was so focused and concentrated on each contraction.
I felt like I had to push, but I wasn't able to verbalize it. I thought it might help to use the bathroom, and that's when John realized that he had to get the nurse. The midwife came in and said that she would check me. She said very calmly, "You are about ready to go." There was a lot of commotion around me as the nurse assembled the instrument table and the doctor came into the room. Jessi, the midwife, told me to try to breathe through the next two contractions to allow my cervix to get completely ready. I wanted to push very much, but tried to breathe it out.
Finally, Jessi said to push. She was so calm and serene. Pushing felt like a relief. The contractions almost seemed to disappear. Now the pain was entirely focused on the baby trying to come out. The time in between contractions and pushing seemed to stretch on for a long time. I winced from the pain, and Jessi assured me that it was ok, that it was just stretching. I sat with the pain and accepted it for what it was. It was uncomfortable and peaceful at the same time.
The room was so quiet. The nurse held one leg back and taught John how to hold the other. I looked to Jessi for direction. She quietly told me what to do. The look in her eyes was serene and sympathetic.
Rosa was breech, so her butt came out first. John decided not to look, but was asking what it looked like. Jessi explained that it looked like the baby was crowning, but instead of her head, her butt was poking out. I said, "She's butting." John misheard me and thought I said, "She's budding." That way was much better <3
After about four pushes, her butt, legs, and body were out. Just a few more pushes to get her head out. On the next push, I felt a woosh as she slipped out. It was the most incredible, indescribable feeling. John cut the cord, and the doctor and midwife explained to him that the placenta still had to come out. They said it could take 30-45 minutes more. But with the next contraction and push, it came out. All of the pain stopped. The nurse handed Rosa to me, and I just marveled at her beauty. She was beautiful.
It was such a peaceful moment. I couldn't believe how sweet her face was. Her skin was so soft. I wrapped her little hand around my thumb and stroked her cheeks with my finger. She was so perfect.
The world kept whizzing on, I'm sure, but for me, it's like the world stopped in that moment. I am still stuck there. I think I will be for the rest of my life. I gave birth to an angel. I can't wait until the day comes when I can join her in heaven. I love her so much.