Thinking of you this Mother’s Day
A Mother’s Love
In October of 2009 we were shocked to learn that we were expecting triplet boys. The news brought the eventuality of bedrest, NICU, and the like. In spite of all the risks associated with a multiple pregnancy, we never even considered the possibility of a loss. We were in good hands, we were being watched carefully, and there was no reason to believe that something would go wrong. Until it did.
At 32 weeks and 5 days, I went in for a routine check, and we were given the devastating news that Baby B’s heart had stop beating. In an instant our life changed. We went from anticipating the arrival of three beautiful boys, to mourning the loss of one, and praying like mad for the other two.
Later that same day, all three boys had to be delivered. It was the most bittersweet moment of our lives. Hearing Adler and Cameron cry and seeing their tiny pink bodies was a joy, but feeling Boe being pulled from my body silent and still was heartbreaking. So many emotions and thoughts ran through my mind. How could the other two be here, be alive, and not Boe? How could we have made it this far for this to be the result?
In the days that followed, we were so fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends-people who were there for us in our darkest days. We were also fortunate to be provided with amazing resources to aid in the grieving process. How would we parent the beautiful daughter we already had at home? How would we parent Boe’s surviving brothers while mourning his death? How would we parent the unexpected child who came 18 months after Boe left us? These resources helped. The Balancing Life and Loss: Parenting After Loss Support Group, offered by Forever Footprints, was a huge part of our grief journey. I found comfort sitting with other women who, different as their stories and journeys may be, were right there with me. We were all there for each other, to raise each other up and to laugh, cry, and speak our children’s names aloud so they knew their short lives mattered.
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I’m Still Standing
I’ll admit there are days when I want nothing more than to go back to the person I was on September 8, 2012. They day before everything changed for me forever.
On that day, I still didn’t know too much.
Everything changed on September 9. I woke up that morning with a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew something was wrong with Luke when I woke up. I did everything I could to get him to get moving…and nothing.
These are not the things you expect on your 39th week of a completely uneventful, healthy pregnancy.
When we walked into the hospital that day, I remember being told by everyone that they were just SURE everything was fine. I told myself over and over that they were probably right. But I just couldn’t fight that feeling that something WAS wrong.
I just didn’t know how wrong. I don’t think I ever could have guessed that when I felt something was wrong, that he was actually already gone. Nothing to save. Nothing we could do. Just gone.
No one thinks about these things when they’re pregnant. Not until that moment when everything turns upside down on you and you’re forced to face a reality that you never could have imagined.
Sitting there in that delivery room, hearing that we wouldn’t be bringing Luke home with us–ever–that was the minute my life changed. The minute panic set in. Hopes and dreams were dashed. Grief entered, never to leave again. And I had no idea what I was in for.
That day. That week. That year. I still don’t always know what to expect, three years out.
During that 39 weeks Luke and I spent together, I can say for certain that never once did I entertain the thought that I could lose him to a cord accident. That he could possibly just slip away silently after being there so strong for me the entire pregnancy. Or that I wouldn’t even be able to say for sure when he died. Thoughts like that are unimaginable when you don’t know too much. They would never cross your mind because you never lived in a universe where tragedies like that happened.
But on September 9, it was like I moved residence to Planet-My-Baby-Died. And there was no turning back.
I switched to survival mode. The day is still a blur to me. I was induced, with no idea what to expect. I’d never birthed a child, let alone a baby without a heartbeat. I had no idea how I’d survive.
I did, somehow. Luke’s delivery was complicated. He was 9 pounds, 12 ounces. Shoulder dystocia is a nightmare as it is, but in my case? This was the worst nightmare. I remember blacking out, thinking that maybe I wouldn’t survive either. Maybe that would be OK?
But I’m still standing, three years later. Those first minutes, hours, and days were near impossible. Every step I took was the most difficult step I’d taken in my life. I had no idea how to go on living the life that I was living before I knew I was pregnant with Luke. Everything was supposed to change when he arrived, and yet, there we were. We were changed, but by something we never even imagined could happen. The emptiness and despair of that first week home without him were (hopefully) the darkest days of my life. Somehow, with the support and love of the most amazing family and friends in the world, I’m still standing.
It’s hard to admit that the life I have now wouldn’t be mine had Luke not died. But having him made me a better person. I’m someone people reach out to when they hear of tragedies like ours. I’m willing to be an ear to hear those who have walked these same steps as I have. I know how it feels to experience the unthinkable firsthand.
When you know too much, you know how to be there for people. You know that there’s a dark side to the light that shines on so many others. I understand that not everything is sunshine and daisies. It’s not that I’m jealous (though sometimes, I am). I just know how it feels to be stuck in the dark and come back through all of that to find happiness, and sometimes, I think that might make the joy that I experience even sweeter.
When you know too much, it’s hard to go back and be person you were before. But Luke is part of being who I am now, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
Peyton’s Birth Story
I had dreamed of writing my birth story through my whole pregnancy, I never dreamed that it would be like this. This blog is to document our journey through this tragedy and into the rest of our lives. Peyton changed the course of our lives forever, so I couldn’t see another way to start it than with the story of his birth.
I woke up on Monday, October 24th and I knew something wasn’t right- but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I knew I hadn’t really felt him move in my sleep. It was the first day I was home alone on bed rest and Mark had gone back to work, so I told myself I was being paranoid. I tried to continue my day, but I was always waiting for a kick. I would poke him or lie on my side, and when I started to get really worried I took a bath- he always kicked in the bath. When I saw my reflection in the mirror I knew I looked different, from that moment on I was really hiding from a horrible fear. I wasn’t swollen looking anymore- I looked back to normal but with a huge belly. My ring that hadn’t fit on my finger in 3 weeks fit me. I still tried the bath, not willing to admit that I knew deep down it wouldn’t work. After the bath I went on the couch, lied down and closed my eyes, I thought if I devoted all my attention to him he would move. When I was on the couch my mom came over to eat lunch with me but I couldn’t eat much. Finally I told her that I was scared and I started to cry. I texted my doctor and he told me to drink juice and do a kick count, then go the hospital if I still felt I should, just so I would “feel better.”
I drank the juice, but I could only lay down for an hour, I knew we needed to go. In my heart I already knew, but the power of denial kept me from really believing, so I told Mark where we were going, but was convinced I would hear his heartbeat and then go home. The nurse couldn’t find it, I really started to get upset so Mom called Mark and told him to come. My mom sat next to me while my doctor looked at the ultrasound, until he said “Miss Allison, I’m not seeing anything”- I was hysterical. I don’t know how many minutes passed before Mark came in and I grabbed him and we just sobbed. Everybody left the room. I don’t know how long we cried on the hospital bed, but eventually we had to talk to the doctor about delivering our baby. How could you ask me to do that? I was so scared I couldn’t do it. That evening around 6 they gave me the first dose of the induction medicine, and again every 4 hours. We waited just over 24 hours, trying to sleep, just crying in each other’s arms.
Finally, after 24 hours my doctor wanted to break my water and give me a different kind of induction medicine. I was so upset when he broke my water, I didn’t want Peyton to be born this way, part of me was scared he was still alive and we would hurt him. After he broke my water the contractions started to hurt a lot more. I told them I wanted the epidural. The epidural made me really sick and it broke my heart, even though I knew he was gone this wasn’t the delivery I wanted for my baby. After I had it it was only 2 hours before I felt a lot of pressure and told the nurse, it was time to push. Mark started to cry, but I was too scared and too numb. The nurses held up my legs and Mark was holding my hand, as soon as I started to push I started to cry.
I pushed for about 20 minutes, at 10:30pm on October 25th Peyton Mark was born, he weighed 3 lbs 13 oz. They put him on my chest and he was absolutely perfect. I’ve never felt so in love and so heartbroken at the same time. Mark and I couldn’t believe how beautiful he was, I would have given anything in the world to hear him cry. His lips were small and red- they looked like mine. He had a tiny perfect little nose and his eyes were closed and a little puffy. We pulled back his hat and he had hair, not a ton, but a little. I held his little hand and saw his tiny little finger nails. I pulled back the towel and looked at his body, all so perfect looking, it didn’t make sense.
Mark held him and my heart ached, he looked like such a natural father holding his son, I had waited so long to see him hold his child. The time we spent with Peyton was the hardest time in my life, knowing we couldn’t keep him with us, but I wouldn’t give back one second of it. I held him again after Mark and I just squeezed him to my chest- I just wanted my lifetime with him.
I can only hope that he felt our love for him, that he never felt alone. I love you so very much Peyton, and you will always be in our hearts.
If you would like to share your birth story, email kvonrotz@foreverfootprints.org