(Disclaimer: For those of you who are mutual friends of both me and my husband, I would prefer if you would not comment on specific details found on my blog to him. This blog is for me, and it invades his privacy to comment on something I’ve written. You can of course, offer him condolences as well.)
So we lost the baby on Tuesday. Well, at least Tuesday was the day he was born. They started the induction on Monday when we saw there was no heartbeat. I have read now so many stories of other couples, and often they could tell something was wrong because they couldn’t feel the baby kick, but it wasn’t like that for me. I hadn’t felt a definite kick yet. Maybe it was there and so subtle I didn’t notice, I don’t know.
I got to wear seaweed tampons for awhile to help dilate the cervix, and then later I got little hormone pills inserted as well. Monday night passed relatively quickly, I had cramping but not on the scale of contractions. I fall asleep easily, so it didn’t bother me to have nurses in every couple of hours to take my vital signs. At 4 am they started coming harder, but then they tapered off again.
Finally, at 9:30 am or so, they started hard again. I guess I was hoping the pain wouldn’t be too bad, but it really hurt. It hurt just as much as it had with Rowan. They gave me a little button I could push every 10 minutes, and I counted down those minutes every time until I could push it again.
But he was so small at the end, it only took one push. Leif was the first one to hold him, even before they cleaned him up. I was sadly, still a bit out of it from the medication. We had the the chaplain baptize him in the room. We named him Bram Thomas. He was 12.2 oz (344 grams for you metric people) and 10.5 inches long. Bram is Gaelic for bramble or a thicket–it is also associated with the raven. Thomas is actually a Dr. Who reference, though you would probably have to have seen them all multiple times like I have to track down that character. And we are talking old-school Who here, not this David Tennant guy. (Acutally, I do love Tennant)
Words cannot express the kindness of the hospital staff there. They were so amazing, so compassionate. And it’s weird to think they deal with this all the time. Our hospital has 3 floors of maternity wards on the North Wing–when we got to our floor, I asked the nurse if this was the “special” floor. She said yes, and that all the nurses who work there choose to do so. (I also noticed what appeared to be a high incidence of lesbian/hippie/and other empowered women working that floor–it was awesome) Occasionally during our stay I would hear a baby cry in one of the other rooms, and I wondered if those were the cases where the baby only lives a day or two. I felt so bad for those parents, to get to nine months and go through all that for a few brief hours of life.
By late Tuesday evening, I wanted to see Rowan so badly, but when we went to pick her up, she was just having a blast and didn’t want go home. That night, I missed the hospital so much, people checking up on me and so caring and compassionate to me, a total stranger that they knew nothing about. I tried to write down as many names as I could so I can write and thank them later. They gave us a memory box, took footprints and handprints, there is even a photographer that comes in and takes professional pictures for free. Everywhere I go, I am surrounded by the generosity of strangers.
We wrapped him in one of Rowan’s blankies to be cremated in. In some of the literature we received, it said some parents choose to put the ashes in a locket. I guess it’s such a small body, once you take the water out, there’s hardly anything there.
I am personally glad Rowan is so young and doesn’t really understand. A couple of weeks ago, when we knew what we were facing, we told her that she may not get a baby brother. She said, “That’s okay. We can try for a baby sister next time.” Yeah, good luck kid. I feel that if we have another, it would be a boy. Last night when we told her for sure there was no baby, she looked at us with a strange expression. I asked her, “Are you sad? It’s okay to be sad, we are a little bit sad.” And she rolled her eyes at us as only a 4 year old can and said, “No, I’m not sad. I was just worried.” I think she meant she was worried about us, which is really sweet. Then she went back to cutting out princesses.
My days are okay. I usually have one weepy period a day, and then I’m calmer. Wednesday morning was bad, but the afternoon was fine. Last night was bad, this morning I’m weepy too. It comes and goes. Other peoples’ babies do not bother me. I went and saw Stacy Wednesday (she’s at home on maternity leave) and it’s fine. I don’t want anyone else to have my experience, and I don’t begrudge her that it went well. Her boy, Barret, is doing well and I held him for awhile. He was so big compared to Bram. I’m glad he will have a good life.