Earlier this year Chris and I felt that we would love to add another child to our family. We thought if we had another girl, that would be absolutely perfect and make our family complete. At the end of the summer, we found out I was pregnant. I was excited, as most women are. But, just like with Drew, we knew that nothing was in our control and that anything could happen. Nine months of worry, fear, and prayers came along with that little guy. Thankfully to a happy result. So we kept this pregnancy as quiet as possible so as not to get our hopes up too too high.
Then came the nausea. And nothing could disguise that.
I was so sick. It was constant. Even when I puked I still felt ill. It was miserable, I was miserable and anyone who saw me could see it. I made others miserable. The worst was Aug-Sept and the awful heat. It messed with my head. I wanted to move. Go somewhere cool. My poor family had to put up with my mood swings and quick temper. I knew I was a monster, but I didn't care.
The nausea continued into the second trimester. Slowly, people began to find out about the pregnancy. We even told the kids, feeling more confident once we got past the point of "high risk." Every day since it was all Leah would talk about. She wanted a baby sister more than anything. She knew the baby was girl. She wasn't going to have it any other way, really. It was at that point that we told the children they would "get what they get and not get upset." This was because I knew I was DONE. No way was I going to put my body through this again. Closing up the baby factory. For good.
On October 19th, I got out of bed to use the bathroom. Something happened. A gush of fluid. The rest of the day was tricklings of fluid. I knew something was wrong. I waited that weekend to see blood or feel pain. What I thought would naturally be the next step. On Monday I called Dr B. He pulled out his doppler and instantly found a heart beat. Ok, sigh of relief, so what was going on? He sent me to get an ultrasound to check fluid levels. The ultrasound tech took a long time looking things over on her screen, then finally left the room without saying much. She came back with her superior, a radiologist. He looked worried and called my doctor. They wouldn't let me leave the office until they heard from him what I was to do next.
I was on my way to Fallbrook and got a phone call from the doctor telling me to go to San Diego. Oh no. Not that place. That put me into a panic. Nothing good could happen from seeing the doctor in San Diego. I was deflated. Only 16 weeks along, I knew this was not good. But the baby still had a heartbeat!
At Mary-Birch, it was confirmed that my water had broke. Nurses with solemn faces telling me how sorry they were. But what about the heartbeat? Then the doctor with no emotion showed up and confirmed that there was no fluid around the baby. But what does that mean? She then told me I could terminate the pregnancy or just wait for my body to take care of it naturally. Again, there was a heartbeat. How was there any choice in the matter?
Both doctors told me I should count on my body going into labor a week later. At this point, our hope was gone. It already felt like a loss. I was put on bed rest and antibiotics to prevent infection. The way I saw it, there were 3 different scenarios of what was ahead. #1-I would get an infection and they would be forced to take the baby. #2-My body would naturally go into labor, the baby would be born but wasn't viable. #3-I would stay pregnant with a baby in a "harsh" environment, baby would not develop properly, have numerous problems if it even survived at all, which was only a 2% chance.
So the weekend came and went without any changes. I was feeling pretty good. Still pregnant and feeling baby move often. I tried to take things as easy as I could. I felt fine like I could get up and go through my daily routines like normal. I made sure to take it easy as often as I could. We told the kids that the baby was sick and so Mommy was sick and needed extra help. I saw my doctor every two weeks. He would do an ultrasound, check for "pockets" of fluid, and tell me baby's heartbeat was good.
Only once did he tell me the heart rate was extremely low and the baby's growth had slowed down. I should expect that this baby would not be alive next time I saw him a week later. Instead, the baby kept moving and the doctor told me the heart rate was back up and strong. Crazy roller coaster of emotions continues.
I kept telling myself that everything was in Heavenly Father's hands. It was easy to say and gave me comfort. Of course I had my moments of feeling down and feeling responsible for what was happening. It was my body, not the baby, that was struggling.
The weekend after Thanksgiving is when contractions started. Saturday night they were mild and I figured they could stop on their own. Middle of the night they were painful and I was awake and nervous. I knew what was going on, but didn't want to believe it. At 5:30 we called my parents and told them I was going to the hospital. They came right over and stayed with the kids. We arrived at the ER in Fallbrook and told them the situation. I was put in a bed with a monitor, and still heard a good heartbeat. But the contractions were stronger now. I had a nurse who was certain that I would be going home and my labor would cease. The pain got worse and the doctor assured me that there was no stopping it.
I didn't understand why there was no effort to try and stop labor. I still don't, but I'm not sure if I'll ask my doctor about it.
Little Chelsea came on her own that morning, with no effort from me. She was born with a heartbeat. I knew I didn't want to see her. Chris stayed with her the whole time. My bleeding didn't stop and the placenta wouldn't deliver. I was whisked away to surgery.
Waking up was hard. I remember seeing a clock that read around 4:30. What had happened to the day? I was taken to a room where Chris was waiting. He said there were some things he needed to tell me.
He told me the baby lived for an hour and twenty minutes. He said that since she was born alive that she would be given a birth certificate and she was now our responsibility. I was not expecting to hear that. I was also told I lost nearly half of my blood and may require a transfusion. I was pale, dizzy, and my emotions were out of control.
Chris was the champion. I told him I didn't want to have a burial for the baby. He made a bunch of phone calls after talking with parents, nurses, and hospital staff and decided that a burial was the right decision. He kept busy figuring out details and bugged me to help him name her.
We had a small service for her in the Fallbrook cemetery. It was perfect, not too much. We released pink balloons with the kids, had a lot of family and good local friends come to support us.
The kids are the biggest help in getting through this hard time. They have reminded us of the simple truths of the gospel and know that our family is eternal. Some are on earth, some are in heaven.
