Miss Audrey James should have just turned 4 this past July. She has an older brother that is 9 and little sister just 11 months younger than her. I had always wanted my children to be just 3 years apart but we found ourselves having trouble conceiving that second child. We suffered a miscarriage at 9 weeks then got pregnant with what was supposed to be our rainbow baby. A rainbow is the term used for a child born after a loss. I found out I was pregnant again when I was just finishing up my first quarter of nursing school. I had worked so hard to get into school and everything was falling into place. It was all going to work out perfect. I would have baby during summer and be ready to jump back into that last year of school. That following May I lost my grandfather, then I failed out of my 3rd quarter of school. I was devastated. I kept telling myself to focus on this new baby and all would be ok. Then July rolled around. I felt like this baby had really slowed down her movements and was always sort of laying sideway across my belly. I mentioned it to my doctor at the time and she stated it was due to baby running out of room and all long as I felt some movement everything was fine. Then July 9th happened. I had been busy and moving all day and hadn't paid too much attention to baby's movement. I got home and pulled out my home doppler and found nothing. I don't know if I had ever really HEARD the sound of silence until then. My husband, my son and I drove to the birthing center around 930pm. We were whisked away to get checked out. The nurse looked nervous and found no heartbeat. She then left and returned with a doctor and an ultrasound machine. I couldn't look at the monitor. I knew. I will always remember those words mumbled by the doctor, "There is no cardiac activity". My husband and I went into panic mode. We were left alone and immediately knew we had to get my son out of the there so he wouldn't see the terror on our faces. While my husband called family to come pick our son up, I made the worst phone call of my life to my dad. He sounded confused and immediately came to the hospital. We were quickly surrounded by family, tears and lots of heartache. I delivered Audrey via C-section (my choice) around 9am July 10th, 2014. Things were so foggy, I regret not taking in more of the details. I was offered locks of her beautiful brown hair, footprints, and pictures. I was given a binder to pick out a funeral home. It was all too much for me. I froze up, I couldn't make these decisions, I was too scared. I am so grateful to have made a friend in nursing school that happened to be the involved with Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. She rushed to my side before delivery and took the most amazing pictures that I never even knew I wanted. She comforted my family, whom were total strangers to her. She had not been in my shoes before, but she was able to guide me and let me know what to expect. She was honest and let me cry. She offered no sugar coated quotes and never tried to make me feel better. She just let me grieve, and she listened to me pour my heart out. Audrey was born with her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck 4 times. She had lost oxygen and eventually passed away at 35 weeks. Although babies are born with cords wrapped around necks, arms, legs, ect., hers was an extreme case. I have so many regrets about not insisting on an NST at the doctors office. Would they have been able to save her? I will never know. She was so loved and so wished for. She resembled her brother so much, she was absolutely perfect. The first week at home was the worst. The time between leaving the hospital empty handed and knowing my baby was still there, and getting her ashes back home where she belonged was mentally the toughest. I would picture her laying all alone and cold. So many mental images I couldn't shake. There was some comfort in knowing she had been cremated. As odd as that sounds. People brought food, they brought puzzles, they stopped by with coffee. It was all appreciated and I needed those tiny distractions. Weeks went by, then months. The wounds eventually turned to scars. The hole in my heart is still there, but so is all the love for my living children, and my friends and family that stood by me in such dark and uncharted waters. Pain and love can coexist if you let them. I got pregnant with Audrey's younger sister at just 10 weeks postpartum. She was born healthy and is such a joy. We have since then had 2 first trimester losses with no explanation. I am unsure if we will keep trying. The heart can only take so much, and we are so fortunate to have our 2 living children. Audrey is still talked about by us, her pictures on my wall, her birthday remembered each year. I have no doubt I will connect with her again after my life here on earth is over. I have since become a registered nurse and deal with death and illness everyday. Going through the loss of Audrey has shaped me into a more caring person, I don't sweat the small stuff as much, and I know I can roll with the punches life throws at me. It's not the life I chose, but it's the life I was given and I want to make the most of what is left of it.
What Has Helped You Heal?
The things that helped me heal are meeting other women who have been in my shoes and suffered the unimaginable trauma of stillbirth. Stillbirth isn't talked about by many and when it happens to you, you feel completely alone and almost like a total freak of nature. What I learned was that it happens so much more than I ever knew. And those women turned out to still be able to smile, to laugh, to live productive happy lives. I didn't have to be ruined, to crumble, to duck into a black hole and never crawl out. I knew I was going to be ok, eventually. Another thing that helped me through my journey was the book Tear Soup. I was given it while still in the hospital and didn't read it for a few weeks. Once I did I fell in love with it. Learning that grief and grief work was something that I was going to have to do alone was an eye opener. Nobody was going to be able to "fix" my situation for me. One of the most important things I can recommend is to get into therapy. Just being able to leave my feelings and thoughts with someone outside of your inner circle made my heart feel less physically heavy. I called it my emotional dump. I went with my husband, and eventually alone. As a couple it helped us see that we grieve differently and to be patient with each other.