Well, everyone, I am incredibly sad to say that yesterday, while at my 34 week ultrasound, they could not find Scarlett's heartbeat. They initially took me in for an NST test, which is no big deal, but could not find her little heartbeat. Thinking she had merely moved to the back of my belly, they sent me over for an ultrasound to see where she was situated. I could tell as soon as I saw the U/S tech's face that she was gone. I was in shock. I couldn't even cry. My sister was with me once again, and immediately ran over to me, hugging me and telling me how sorry she was. They sent me to a counseling room to call my husband. He was asleep when I called (he works third shift and sleeps during day), and he immediately rushed over.
As I sat there shocked, I started wondering how this could have happened. My last appointment had gone so well, they told me not to come back until next week. The worst part is that now they think that the baby had been dead for at least a few days. I keep replaying over, and over in my head, trying to remember when the last time I actually felt baby move was, and wondering if they had had me come in as they usually do, if they'd have caught it and been able to save the baby.
To make matters worse, my specialist was on vacation. His partner, who is a wonderful man and the man who helped with the birth of my first child, Shelby had to consult me. He recommended an autopsy and genetic testing, to which I readily agreed. I felt a bit more comfortable with him after he revealed that he and his wife had gone through the same thing (stillbirth) at 37 weeks with their own baby, and that they eventually were able to conceive a healthy baby.
So, they sent me up at 6:00 for my c-section to remove the baby. Everything went pretty smoothly there, though it was a somber environment. My husband held my hand tightly throughout the whole thing, wiping my eyes as I cried and couldn't do it myself. He is absolutely wonderful.
The only other BIG SURPRISE that day was that we didn't give birth to a "she". but a "he". Scarlett was actually a boy! Gender didn't matter to us, but I know my husband desperately wanted a boy. They must have missed it on the ultrasound because of the lack of fluid and way he was sitting. We decided to name him Gavin Michael.
After he was born, the nurses took me to the recovery room and asked if we wanted to see him. At first I hesitated, thinking it would be too hard for me to handle seeing a baby I'd never be able to bring home. However, my husband said yes, and I'm glad he did. They brought him in to us and let us spend as long as we wanted with him.
His little body had already started to break down a bit from the fact that he had been gone for a little while, and the placenta had started to soften his skin and skull. So his little nose was a bit soft and his skin looked a bit blistery in places. I didn't care. To us, he was perfect. We held him for nearly an hour in complete awe and silence before handing him back to the nurse, who made feet prints, hand prints, molds, and took pictures of him. I'm so glad I got to spend that time with him.
Now I am currently in a hospital room recovering. I didn't want to be placed in labor and delivery, because I didn't think I could handle walking by all the sweet, healthy, happy babies, hearing them cry and whimper. I am sore physically, but the emotions are still so raw. We knew this was a possibility, but didn't think we would have to say goodbye this way. Hopefully, once the autopsy comes back, we'll know what happened to our little man. If I had a guess, I'd say it was something birth defect related or heart related, but we won't know until then.
Lastly, we chose to have him cremated, and to just have a small dinner memorial for just the family. I want to honor him, but I just can't go through the idea of leaving him buried in a casket all alone. So, we are going through a foundation in our city that helps people that meet certain financial guidelines pay for cremation services. Tomorrow we pick out the ash container, but we're going to spread his ashes at our favorite spot on Lake Erie, where we went for many of our first dates, and where we often take my daughter Shelby to play in the sand.
I just wanted to thank all of you for following us on our journey, and though it didn't end the way we wanted it to, at least I know my child passed peacefully in the womb, not attached to a million machines. We'll always love him and honor his memory, and I will use his memory to raise awareness for babies and moms going through anhydramnios. I have turned my back on religion, but I do hope all of you hold and cherish your children, and I know my son will always be with me.
Les