Two years ago, I remember exactly how this morning went. I showered and got ready right along with Rylee and Clay for school. We first dropped off Rylee, and then Clay off at pre-school and headed out. I remember what I was wearing and how nervous I felt that day. This day was the 20 week ultrasound for our 5th baby.
The day before, I sat in Fast and Testimony meeting and wondered if there was even a possibility that the next day, I would find out there was something wrong with this tiny babe inside of me. I had no reason to think that there would be anything wrong - all my other pregnancies and deliveries were flawless. But, this time, I knew I had only felt the baby move twice - right at 16 weeks and then not feeling that grapefruit ball in my abdomen. But, when every other pregnancy had been fine - with little worries, I would be just fine and the ultrasound would confirm it. But, I still felt that dark uncertainty.
It was 2 days before my 20 week mark and I had moved the ultrasound date up a week as Ryan was going to be out of town the following week (who wants to wait longer than they have to?). Ryan met me at the doctor's office, and Kaycee and Lucy played with the toys while we waited out turn. I sat there incredibly worried and scared, but tried to push it back.
The technician called my name.
We shuffled back the room, found our places and the tech put with warm gel on my stomach. My heart was pounding as the baby showed up on screen.
The room was dark and quiet, an uncomfortable quiet. Even, the small girls were quiet. My heart jumped a little as the tech quickly measured the baby's head: 16w 5days.
But, I was almost 20 weeks? My mind flashed back to my last appointment, 17 weeks. I sat up from hearing the heartbeat and asked the doctor if I was measuring okay, I felt I wasn't growing like I had with the others. She said " no, you look fine. Good for 13 weeks." "But, I'm 17 weeks." "Oh, your other girls measured small, you probably measuring smaller again."
Back in the dark ultrasound room, I felt the lump building in my throat. The tech did a couple more measurements and I was trying so hard to feel calm. Then she broke the silence.
"Honey, have you been feeling the baby move?"
"No."
"I can't find a heart beat. I'm so sorry. I'll go get Nicole."
My arm immediately flung over my eyes and I started to sob. My worst fear confirmed. Confirmed. There
was something wrong. Our baby had died.
Remembering I wasn't alone in the room, I looked over at Ryan. His hand was under his glasses pressing into his eyes. I felt so sad. So sad for him. I felt as though I may have been prepared for this news, but he had no clue what was coming.
Nicole, our nurse practitioner came in and was so compassionate and sincere. She teared up with us and asked if I had thought anything was wrong. I told her I should have called her sooner. She shook her head and said that mothers usually know when something is wrong and that even calling in wouldn't have helped. I asked her what was next. She told us that I'd have to deliver. My heart sank. I knew the little baby was dead and yet the thought of actually having to deliver was so incredibly overwhelming. We cried. Nicole and the tech told us we could stay as long as we wanted in that room, to leave when we felt ready. It was a relief not see any faces as we left the doctor's office.
We walked weighed down to the van. Ryan's truck was parked across the way. We got into the van and looked at each other with tear-streamed faces. We didn't have to say anything as we both just wondered how we were going to tell Kaycee and Lucy and then Rylee and Clay. Once we had to say it out loud, that we wouldn't get to bring this baby home, grief and sadness overcame us again. The girls were quiet and I'm sure confused as their parents were so heart-broken.
After a few minutes in the van, I watched Ryan go to his truck, call his boss and tell her that he wouldn't be coming back that day. I watched him again as he brought his hand to his face. I then thought of calling my mom.
I dialed her number and listened as she cheerfully said "Hi, pretty girl! How are you?"
The phone was silent. I had started to cry again and couldn't get any words out. Her voice turned to worry. "Honey? What's wrong?"
"The baby died." I sobbed.
I could feel the heart break on the other end as my mom started to cry, too. I can still hear her voice in my head.
Oh, Honey, I am so sorry.We talked for a few minutes and I asked her to call all my siblings and let them know. I told her I wasn't sure if I was up to talking to anyone yet, but that I wanted her to tell them.
We made our way over to Ryan's parents and fell into their arms. Was this really happening? They were good to take our kids outside while Ryan and I went upstairs and poured our heart and souls out in prayer. We realized the decisions that were ahead of us. We had about a day to decided when we wanted to deliver, and what we wanted to do with this baby's body. It wasn't long before my phone rang. I looked down to see that it was my Dad calling. I burst into tears again and almost pushed the phone away from me. The phone stopped ringing and Ryan encouraged me to call him back, he would want to talk to me. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to talk to him, it was how. I can't talk with tears. My dad offered wonderful love and support and I could feel his sadness. I remember clearly, him saying "If anything this experience will teach you compassion. Compassion to other mothers who lose their babies." That thought has always stayed with me.
We decided we'd bury this baby and we called Grandma Rodriguez to get permission to bury her in Grandpa's grave. She was more than happy, and so were we. We got in contact with a mortuary here and then the mortuary over in Utah. We got information on travel permits to be able to take this baby ourselves over state lines. I called my doctor's office back and told them that we'd come in the following night to prep for delivery.
The rest of the day was somber and it was hard to think that I was carrying a baby that wasn't alive. It was hard to control the deep sadness that we felt as a family. It was a quiet evening, but as phone calls came in from my sisters, the Relief Society President came by, I felt I was being carried. My spirits were higher and I felt that I could conquer the following days and their events.
It was Wednesday morning, November 7, 2007 that our baby girl was delivered. I was nervous to see her little body and wondered what she would look like, but as I held that tiny body, I was overcome with love and sadness at the same. Love that here this little baby had a perfect body that I could hold, and yet deep sadness that she wouldn't have the opportunity to grace our home.
The following days, weeks and months were difficult - to say the least. We had no clue what this experience would bring emotionally. I have to say though, that one of the hardest parts was seeing Ryan grieve. It was a week after Baby Honey was delivered where I wanted to send his family an email asking for support and love for him. My mom was calling everyday to check-in on us and my siblings were calling often as well. But what about my husband? I've learned in this situation, that most people worry about the mother and how she's doing. I think Ryan had the shorter end of the stick. I believe I was prepared for this somehow, but he on the other hand, was blindsided. He needed support too, maybe even more that I did. To this day, I regret not sending that email. The experience wasn't really talked about here, more because I don't think they knew what to say. And, for some reason in my mind it felt as if, if no one asked, no one cared. I knew that they cared, but I know it would have helped to ask for that support.
I sit here amazed that it has already been two years. The first year, there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of her. Sadly, I find that although time has made it easier, it takes us further away from this experience. Like my Dad said, it has taught us compassion. More than I could understand before. This experience brought Ryan and I closer together as a couple, as parents to our children. This sweet baby is a a great reminder that we have someone cheering for us. Waiting for us. Our baby Honey Mary.
