My angel baby, my story.

I lost my first born child.  Owen Thomas was born on August 26, 2011, stillborn at 34 weeks.  Wow.  Stillborn.  Still stings to say.  I don’t know what happened, everything was perfect.  I’ll start from the beginning.

My husband, Sam, and I had been married for almost 6 years when we decided we were ready to begin our family.  We had a plan.  We would get pregnant in January of 2011, we wanted a fall baby and we had a wedding in May out of the country we would still be able to attend.  Sure enough, it was easy for us to get pregnant.  Our plan was moving along perfectly.  We announced our pregnancy at my 30^th birthday party in March. 

My pregnancy was moving along flawlessly.  We found out Own was a boy at the end of May.  We were thrilled.  A boy, a beautiful baby boy.  Plans moved along steadily from there.  His room had become a beautiful shade of blue, the bedding was being finished up and 2 amazing baby showers had provided absolutely wonderful outfits and necessities. 

My third trimester had come so quickly and seemed to hit me with a wave of uncomfortable symptoms.  Carpal tunnel in my hands and wrists rocked my otherwise pleasant world.  My feet and legs began to swell to elephant size.  I was beginning to feel the third trimester bearing down.  But, our boy would be here soon.  I could make it.

I made a call to my OBGYN after reading about kick counts.  My son had never been an acrobat in my womb, more of  a slow and mellow mover.  But kick counts scared me.  I knew I would not get 10 movements in 2 hours.  I was told to come in.  They found his heartbeat immediately, everything was fine, he just wasn’t that active.  I went in the next week for my 32 week appointment.  Everything was perfect.  His heart beat was strong.  We started our birthing class 2 weeks later.  We went to our first class Thursday night.  That morning I weighed myself and discovered I was down 10 lbs.  The swelling in my legs had gone down considerably and my appetite had decreased.  The doctors were not worried and told me to come in Friday morning for a quick weight check.  I went to the appointment alone.  Sam had always been by my side, but this was just a quick weight check, I could do this on my own.  The nurse began to use the doppler to find his heart beat.  She couldn’t.  She still didn’t seem worried, so I didn’t panic.  She brought in the ultra sound machine and an OB Doctor.  She tried for a few long minutes, then looked at me and said ‘I don’t see a heartbeat.’ What?  What?  Oh God no.  My world crashed in that moment.  I didn’t believe, I couldn’t believe.  God, no. No. No. 

Sam came home immediately.  We had to get to the hospital right away.  I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t get up the stairs.  Sam had to push my limp body up the stairs to our bedroom.  I aimlessly packed a bag.  What was happening?  Every time I looked down at my pregnant belly I was overwhelmed by panic and grief and confusion.  I don’t remember much of the long trip to the hospital.  As we arrived, they were waiting for us.  Everyone had this sad pitiful look on their face.  The OB’s at the hospital still had to do a confirming ultrasound.  We still held a shred of hope.  As I lay in the hospital bed I just wept.  I couldn’t even touch my once loved belly.  It was now a place of anger and horror.  The belly I used to caress and talk to, I couldn’t even look at now.  It was terrifying.  The doctors seemed to take forever to come in.  But sure enough, they confirmed the death of my baby.  We finally had to call our parents.  We hadn’t said it out loud yet.  I don’t even remember what I said to my mother.  They had just flown out that morning for a wedding, now they were coming home for the still birth of their first grandchild.  Sam called his parents.  We were supposed to be going to the mountains with them the next day; instead they would be coming to the hospital. 

The doctors and nurses proceeded to tell us what was to happen next and what to expect.  Induction could take 3 days.  What?  3 days I might have to be lying here with my angel baby stuck inside me?  3 more days I might have to look at my pregnant belly with a longing so painful my whole body hurt?  3 days?  It didn’t last 3 days.  It only took a few more hours, but it seemed like 3 days.  My parents had made it back home, but I told my sister to stay.  Her heart was breaking.  She was the maid of honor in her best friend’s wedding; I couldn’t take that from her.  I wouldn’t let her come home. 

Because this was our first child and we had only made it to one birthing class, we were doing this blind.  The induction process was quicker than expected.  After the second pill to ‘ripen’ my cervix I began to feel pretty strong contractions.  The pain in my hear t was unbearable.  It hurt so badly and there was nothing I could do.  I opted for an epidural; it was the only pain I could control.  The first one didn’t work.   As the anesthesiologist was putting the second one in, I took a deep breath and my water broke.  The rush of liquid out of my body felt meaningless and empty.  This is the moment so many women wish for and anticipate.   I was about to have my son, but mine was no longer living.  My son would not take a breath, my son would not cry, my son would not come home.  But it was time to push.  Sam held one leg and my mother held the other.  I began to sob.  The tears had been streaming all day, but now I began to sob.  At this moment the son I had been carrying for 8 months was about to be pulled, lifeless, from my body. As the sobs continued, the doctors urged me to push.  I couldn’t do it, I could not do it.  I was lost.  I was in a world I no longer wanted to be in, I was alone, quiet in the dark.  I heard the soft sound of my husband’s words.  ‘Look into my eyes Abbie, you can do this.  Just look at me, look into my eyes, you are strong, you can do this.’ NO I CAN’T,  I screamed.  My mom held my leg tighter as Sam spoke ‘yes, you can.  Look at the freckle in my eye, just look at me, you can do this.’ I did it. My son was born on Friday August 26, 2011 at 11:30pm. My mother’s birthday.  We named him Owen Thomas, after my father, Tom.