"Next week our house will be filled with balloons, streamers, and happiness as we celebrate my daughter Cora’s birthday. She will be three years old and I wonder where the time has gone. The thing is…it’s not just her birthday. Cora shares her birthday with another sibling. A sibling she has never met. See, we have four children: Luke, Cora, Tucker, and a future girl or boy we can’t wait to meet next March.
Luke, the kids’ oldest sibling, was our first and, man, we were so excited! Zach and I had been together for just over a year and Luke was a surprise, but we both wanted kids and thought God had blessed us. All the firsts we had with Luke. First time getting an ultrasound. First time registering for baby stuff. First time feeling your baby move inside you. I relished every little moment bonding with him. One of my fondest memories was Zach and I sharing our favorite music with Luke and he clearly picking a favorite. I foresaw a whole life of love with Luke and Zach. He was our perfect baby boy.
Just a week before Luke was born sleeping, we had an ultrasound and we saw him for the last time. He moved around; being shy for the ultrasound. Everything looked great. We left blissfully unaware of the tragedy that awaited us just six days later. I say blissfully unaware because stillbirth was only brought up once in our pregnancy. One time in 26 weeks of conversations and appointments and tummy checks and ultrasounds. We were told by my well meaning OB that complications can happen after the 12 weeks but that it was so rare and not too worry. So I thought nothing of it because what good would worrying do?
August 28th, Luke’s movement was off. It was a struggle to get him to to make it those 10 movements in an hour and I knew nothing of Count The Kicks at that time. My OB suggested cold water or something sugary. My gut knew something was wrong. I brushed it off. He was just getting bigger and there was less room. I was so naive…
By that evening, I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t get Luke to move and I was suffering a lot of discomfort. I eventually called Zach, who was on shift at the firehouse, and he rushed home and we drove to the hospital. Up in labor and delivery triage, we were told Luke had passed. Recalling those immediate moments after, I remember my screams and then my silence. I remember my husband’s touch as he fell into my body crying. I remember the chill in the room and how the roughness of the blanket bothered my legs. I completely shut down.
Hours later, he was in my arms cradled in the sweet duck blanket that they wrapped all babies in at Dublin Methodist Hospital. Now, I see it was him telling me he was with us. Rubber ducks were his thing ever since I found out I was pregnant. Flashes of him engrained into my mind. Ten little fingers and ten little toes. Beach blonde hair. A tiny button nose. How long his legs were. The hospital graciously took pictures for us because they couldn’t reach a photographer and I hadn’t known to have someone ready because we hadn’t found a newborn photographer yet. They took prints of his hands and feet and brought us keepsakes. The rest was a blur. I know people came and prayed with us. I know our OB came and cried with us. All I could think about was Luke and soaking in every moment and smell and scent.
24 hours after he was born, he had to leave. It was time to say goodbye. We weren’t just saying goodbye to him. We were saying goodbye to the life we thought we were going to have. I have never wanted to fight for something, for time, so much in my life. Handing my son over…was the hardest, most traumatizing thing I have ever done. The sound I let out as I crumbled to a heap on the floor was just so unrecognizable. It was a pain I can only attribute with the loss of a child.
As the days turned to months and the months turned to years, I have realized and learned quite a bit. We discovered that Luke passed away from a placental abruption that may have been caused by a massive blood clot. I say may because there is no way to know which came first. I do know that it was a freak medical abnormality that never could have been caught on an ultrasound. I am not the same woman I was before Luke. Neither is my husband. Losing his first son was hard. He had to be strong for me, while grieving. We slowly rebuilt our lives together, but some things were always challenging. A lot of moms and dads who have experienced this, know that that “joy” of pregnancy isn’t really there after you lose a child. You are holding your breath for 10 months until that baby is alive and in your arms. Many parents have PTSD like symptoms during the period their stillborn child passed. Yep, that was me too…
I still blame myself. It was my body that failed. It was my body responsible for protecting him. I don’t have trouble saying that while also understanding that I never wanted my baby boy to go. I never wanted my placenta to fail. His whole life was within me. As a mother, there is no greater honor, than that. The support I have received from my husband, family, but, most importantly, Lydie’s Loop has gotten me to a place of peace. I will always want him with me, but he pops in from time to time to check up on us through a cardinal on the fence or rubber duck swim hats for his sister and brother or random encounters where the little boy would look just like Luke and just so happens to be named Luke. It’s him saying, “It’s okay mom. I am okay. I love you.”