Friday, May 9, 2014

So this is real

On Wednesday we received the call that Simone's  ashes were ready and waiting for us. 

The four of us got into the car and drove all of 0.1 miles to the funeral home. I intended to just go inside alone, but Gabriela really wanted to come with me, so our whole family went inside. Gabriela asked what happened the last time we were here, and then to see her sister's ashes. So we opened up the tiny, pink, heart shaped box to show her. 

We got back into our car and all I could do was cry. This was not how we were supposed to bring our newborn baby Simone home. Not at all. I remember holding my baby and this was what was left of her? And suddenly, these almost two weeks seemed so much more real and raw. Sometimes I honestly have trouble with the fact that I really was pregnant when I don't have a baby at my side. As much as I wish it wasn't, this is my reality. Our dear daughter didn't live. We don't get to see her grow, develop and learn, smile, or laugh with us. I regret not taking more time to document my pregnancy on this blog because really, we don't have much more to remember of her short life. She was so active all the time. Would she have known Gabriela's voice? After all that belly singing, how could she not? 

When we got home, Gabriela asked me to take down all the sympathy cards and read them aloud to her. I couldn't do it without crying today. I think it's good for her to know that this is sad and it's okay to give yourself permission to feel these feelings. 

On Wednesday, Gabriela came up to me and kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry your baby died," she said out of nowhere and hugged me. And, just as quickly as she came, she pranced away to play.

Later that afternoon, while one of our dear midwives was visiting us, Easton woke up from his nap. I wasn't even crying at the time, but he told her completely unprompted, "mommy sad she died. I give her great big hugs." I think he understands more than we realize. 

I can't even imagine how dark and hopeless we might feel if we weren't surrounded by these beautiful, spunky, and truly perfect children of ours. We are so thankful for our Gabriela and Easton and the strength they continue to give us as we honor, love, and grieve the memory of their baby sister, Simone. 


Tuesday, May 6, 2014

A week gone by, and then some.

It has been a little over one week since we said goodbye to our precious baby girl. It is absolutely unreal how completely upside down our lives have been turned in such a short time. 

I have had days where I have it together, playing outside with the kids, I even cooked breakfast for everyone one morning. Then I have days when I can't stop the tears from falling, I am just so utterly broken. Sunday was one of those days. I just cuddled up with the blanket my mom crocheted for Simone, the one we wrapped her up in. It's so hard waking up every morning without the slightest idea of how hard it might be to get through the day. 

On Friday, Lane took Gabriela and Easton to park day. It was the first time I was alone. I missed him terribly, but took some time to pour my heart out in some thank you notes. 

Yesterday was the first time I left the house, other than going to the funeral home. I felt so strange and anxious traveling on the freeway, knowing the last time I had done so was a quiet, nervous ride to the hospital. We took the kids to their dentist appointment, where the sweet, well-meaning hygienist said I looked like I was due any day. Completely caught off-guard, I mumbled that I already had the baby and walked away. She apologized to me later and hugged me, but she had no idea. What do I tell people? The truth? That our baby died and we had to leave her at the hospital. I don't want to burden strangers with our reality. 

I have been sleeping better, though the other night I dreamed about Simone. She was still in my belly, active as ever, I could even see her little footprint under my belly, and I just knew the doctors were all wrong. My baby was alive. 

And while I feel so deeply the loss of my sweet baby in so much of my body, some how my breasts have no idea and are trying desperately to make milk for Simone. I never thought I would be trying to stop milk production. I nursed our other two kids for nearly two years each. This has been physically and emotionally painful. Like some cruel joke. It's been about a week though, and things seem to be improving. 

We have had to explain to Gabriela how Simone's body is being turned into ashes       She doesn't want me to give back the cloth diapers friends have so generously lent us, and she has put her head to my belly asking, "hey, uterus! Grow me a new baby sister!"

Easton asked, "why you take baby sister's car seat away?" and has mastered his new job as comforter and hug giver extraordinaire. 

Through this all, Lane, my sweet husband, has been truly amazing. He has been taking care of me, the kids, and the house. I know he is hurting just as much as I am. He has been so comforting, making me feel safe and loved and assuring me that we will get through this together. We have a hard road ahead of us, full of sadness and healing. I know it won't ever stop hurting, but eventually the pain won't be as intense. 

Our family and friends have been so supportive. Someone has visited us every day since we came home from the hospital. Yesterday was our first day on our own. We have been fed, our kids are being cared for and entertained, and people have been here to just hug and cry to and listen. It feels so strange to say this, but we are so fortunate. There is so much love surrounding us. 

Today my kids' books on grieving arrived. One in particular is truly perfect; I am looking forward to reading and talking it through with Gabriela. She asks everyday why Simone died and angrily announces that she didn't want her to. Nobody did, baby. Sometimes we hear Gabriela making up songs in the other room with lyrics like, "she was so special, even though we had to say goodbye and we cried, sometimes your sister doesn't live" so I know she is processing what has happened to her as well. 

Tomorrow we have a home visit from our midwife and we are also going to a SAND meeting (Support After Neonatal Death). I hope they can offer us the support we need, and figured it can't hurt to try. 

Each day we continue to receive touching cards from friends and family. The sweet offers, gifts, thoughts and love all show how Simone has somehow touched so many people in her short time here. 

We miss you every day, sweet Simone, and wish you were here in our arms instead. 


Saturday, May 3, 2014

Some Progress


Just tonight, I was shocked to come into our living room and find Gabriela trying to read all our sympathy cards to herself. She brought some to me that were written in cursive and asked me to read them to her. I never would have been able to read such heartfelt touching words aloud without breaking down if I were reading them to anyone else, but I needed to be strong for my baby girl and I did it. 

She put each card away as she finished and then she brought over Simone's tiny hand and footprint molds. Gabriela asked me to tell her how we made the prints and I told her every detail I could remember. We examined the prints, the lines in Simone's hands, her tiny toes, we remembered her long fingernails. 

And then Gabriela brought me the box from the hospital. It has all the photos the hospital took inside. Gabriela looked carefully at each one. She held the hat that Nana crocheted for Simone. She asked me to tell her the story of how we got the wisps of Simone's long baby hair, she asked who made the crib card with Simone's footprints and how. 

A little later, I noticed Gabriela reading our booklet from the hospital called When Hello Means Goodbye. I asked her if she wanted help and we looked at it together. We read the story of another mama who experienced stillbirth. She talked about wanting to walk away from her pain and sadness and we talked about how Gabriela and I had a lot of the same feelings she did, how this woman went through the same experience as her mommy and daddy. 

Gabriela asked me who cried at the hospital, mentioned that she never saw so many grown ups cry, and that Daddy is the saddest. It was a good opportunity to explain that letting ourselves feel this sadness is normal and will help us all to feel better over time. We told her how much we love her and that she is safe and nobody did anything to make this happen. 

Gabriela finally gave herself permission to be sad. And Easton, knowing his new job, came right up to his big sister to hug and  kiss her. She was angry that he didn't realize he would never know his baby sister. We will tell him all about it when he gets older, I said. 

She held him in her arms and, in a sweet big sister voice, asked if he knew what happened. She told him calmly and tenderly that baby sister died. Being two years old, Easton asked why. And she explained there was a problem with the umbilical cord, and then told him what that was. 

Lane and I told her it's okay not to feel sad all the time, and shared moments where we have felt happy in the last week. Of course, they all involved seeing our kids laughing, and being together as a family. 

That night, Gabriela cuddled with me and I felt like she gave me permission to come back into her world. This and seeing her open herself up to experiencing her grief gave me so much relief. It is the best and most hopeful I have felt since Simone's death. We are all  taking baby steps forward. 

Friday, May 2, 2014

These last few days

What's been extra hard these past few days is watching Gabriela try to navigate through her feelings about her baby sister's death.  Before Simone was born, all Gabriela talked about was her sister's arrival. She picked out clothes for Simone, wrote about her in her journal, drew pictures of her, read stories to my belly, sang to Simone every day so she would recognize her big sister's voice after she was born.  Every night when we got ready for bed, Gabriela asked if her sister would be born, and begged us to wake her so she could be there for the birth.  She was supposed to cut the umbilical cord, and was very proud to have agreed to this job. This loss is just so impossible for Lane and me to understand as adults, I can't begin to imagine how it must feel for Gabriela.

She doesn't want to talk about it.  Or, she will just say she's mad that Simone died.  She doesn't want to hear us talk about it, either.  It's so hard because I don't want to overdo it, smother her in Simone-ness, but I don't want to pretend this didn't happen to our family either. It must be heartbreaking and scary to see her parents so upset. We rarely ever cry and are usually very happy people.  Her whole world just turned completely upside down.  Poor baby girl.

Gabriela asked if she could accompany us to the funeral home the other day. I told her it would not be fun, and would be very sad.  She just asked if she would be able to see her baby sister again if she went. When I told her she wouldn't, she immediately said she wasn't interested anymore.  She asks why Simone died a lot, even has said it's Simone's fault.  I notice a difference in the way that she talks to me, and can't help but feel like she blames me and is angry with me for her baby sister's death and this tears me apart. Lane and I don't feel angry about what happened, at least not right now, but Gabriela certainly does.  I know this is normal, but it's still difficult to watch.

I know it's just the beginning, and have gotten some books, both for her directly, and also for us to help her through this.  I have felt ready to talk to her about a lot of things in life, but handling the death of her baby sister is something I never, ever have given any consideration to and now suddenly, it has to be my main concern.

It has been helpful to distract her with visits from cousins, playdates with friends, and fun family time. Just as much as we do, she needs to be surrounded by people who love her. During those times, she is so smiley and full of laughter that we all need to see. 
Easton, on the other hand, doesn't really understand what happened.  We have talked to him a little about how his Baby Sister isn't in mommy's tummy anymore, and how we are sad that she isn't here with us.  He says sweet things like, "Why tears are dropping down, Mommy?" "Baby sister came out. I saw pictures" And, he is incredibly aware of when we are feeling especially upset.  Easton immediately throws down his toys, or whatever he is busy with to give us these gigantic tight hugs and kisses.  It is just what we need.

This is going to be a long road for all of us, a balancing act between finding out what we need and what our children need, how to help them understand and cope, when we aren't quite sure how to do it for ourselves.  Thank goodness for the wonderful family and friends surrounding us.  We feel all your love and it is a great comfort to us.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Simone's Birth Story

I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for quite a while, and they seemed to be increasing in intensity, though were still very mild. I knew labor would be coming soon, but it was so hard to know just when.

And then I started trying all the things that seem like Old Wives' Tales when you aren't very pregnant, but suddenly sound totally logical when you are just so ready to have a baby.  We ate the "world famous" Preggo Pizza from Skipolini's, ate fresh pineapple, spicy foods, I had acupuncture, we went for long walks, I bounced and swayed on my birth ball, and walked up and down lots of stairs. 

It got to the point where I was no longer wondered how our birth would go, nor was I worried about how we would adjust to life after the baby was born, she just needed to come out.  I was so done being pregnant, and ready for the next stage.  On Friday I had a second round of acupuncture.  I could feel Simone moving around all afternoon.  Two days before, I had my membranes stripped, and I was 40 weeks and 6 days pregnant. I felt different, like something was going to happen.  Just to make sure, I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the wooden floors.  I showered and started some soup in the crock pot so everyone would have food to eat. I baked some bread, and felt ready to meet our baby girl.  That evening, Gabriela and Easton both read stories to their sister in my belly. It was so precious.

Just after midnight, I woke up to a stronger than normal contraction.  I felt like this was labor starting, but I needed to relax. And all of a sudden I felt wetness between my legs and it started increasing. I got up to go use the bathroom and was shocked to see my underwear full of blood. Blood was in the toilet, and it just kept coming out. It didn't feel like I was peeing.  My water had broken and it was full of blood. I was scared, worried, and surprised. Of course, Easton woke up crying for Mama right then, so Lane was busy comforting him back to sleep.

Immediately I called the midwives and let them know what had happened.  They were on their way over. I asked Cynthia to come over to watch the sleepy kids.  Karen arrived first.  She got my IV ready for the penicillin drip I would need, and tried to listen for the baby's heartbeat with the doppler.  I wasn't even worried at all when she couldn't detect the heart beat.  I figured the baby was just in a weird position.  But then Beah, my other midwife, couldn't find the heartbeat either. It was time to go to the hospital. I didn't know until much later that while we were still at the house, Beah told Lane that she thought we had already lost the baby.  Lane was so worried, hurrying around trying to get us out the door and in the car. I told him I didn't want to waste any energy being worried unless I knew we had a reason to worry.

Our midwives both work at Alta Bates Hospital. Karen is a labor and delivery nurse there.  Beah has so many connections. She made phone calls on the way.  We walked right in, they told us which room to go to, and Karen advised the nurse that she would clock in and take over my care, for which I am so very grateful.

They still couldn't detect the baby's heartbeat with the hospital-grade machines, and ordered a sonogram, so that they could at least see the heartbeat.  Soon the sonographer came in with the equipment. I was unable to see the screen, but I saw Beah and Karen's faces.  The worried look in their eyes, I saw them holding each other.  Lane and I burst into tears before they confirmed what we already knew.  Our baby's heart had stopped beating.  She was gone.  I never could have imagined that this would happen.  Never.

Through this all, my contractions starting getting stronger and coming more frequently.  I decided that I had enough to sort out emotionally, that I no longer wanted the natural childbirth I had been planning.  I got an epidural and pitocin, and then we had a number of other decisions to make while we were still in shock, in an incredible emotional fog.  We had to tell Cynthia what was going on, but were nervous about her feeling overwhelmed, especially since she was taking care of Gabriela and Easton. We decided to call Meliss to tell her what was going on, since she was originally going to be at our birth and help with Gabriela.  Lane tried to tell her, but how do you say those words out loud, when you can hardly believe that they are true?  Beah, who was at Meliss's home birth, took over the call and told  Meliss what had happened and asked her to be with Cynthia.  Then she called Cynthia to tell her.  We needed them both to be strong for our kids.  I was so nervous about Gabriela getting up and being excited to meet her sister, only to find out that she was gone.

We told our parents and spent much of my labor in tears, holding each other, unable to believe that this was our reality - that we would not be bringing home the baby girl whose arrival we had so eagerly anticipated.  Karen gave me some pain medication that would help me to rest, and Lane had some Benadryll to help him rest.  We slept together for a short while in the hospital bed before I woke up feeling like it was about time to push.

Over the next 30 minutes, I pushed out Simone.  Apparently, I lost a lot of blood in the process.  They placed her on my chest immediately, and I held her and cried and cried.  My sweet baby girl, so beautiful but lifeless in my arms.


We originally had a different middle name chosen for her, but after learning of her fate, changed her middle name to Esperanza, which means hope.  It is a beautiful name, and a reminder to us that we will make it through this difficult time.  Before my Nana was born, her mother had two stillborn babies, both of whom she had named Esperanza.  It seemed a fitting, beautiful name for our precious daughter.

The hospital staff were all very tender and helpful.  They let us know what had happened.  Simone's cord had been pinched at her shoulder.  As she started to descend down, the cord pinched, stopping her blood flow and oxygen, and then her heart.  Not only this, her cord was positioned at the very edge of the placenta, rather than firmly in the middle.  This made it easier for the bloodflow in the cord to pinch.  The doctor compared it to a garden hose.  She said if it is on securely and on full blast, it's much harder to pinch or bend, and that wasn't the case in this situation.  Also, another problem was of course, the amount of blood I lost when my water broke.  This suggests that a blood vessel could have ruptured, stopping blood flow to the umbilical cord.  She was very sweet and honest and was sure to inform us that there was nothing we did wrong, no choice we made that could have influenced or prevented this from happening.  If we had planned a medicated hospital birth, this still would have been the outcome.  There is strange comfort that comes from knowing that no matter what, Simone did not have a chance at life.

We had a very hard time deciding whether or not we wanted our family to see us in the hospital. In the end, we decided to give our parents, Simone's grandparents, the option to come in and see her at the hospital.  As soon as we let our families know, they started coming.  We couldn't have kept them away if we had tried.  And, honestly, it was very therapeutic and comforting to have them there to hug, and cry to and love us in our time of complete devastation and despair.  It was truly the worst day of our lives, yet so touching and beautiful at the same time.

I felt so terrible, but Lane had to leave to go tell Gabriela in person that her baby sister did not live through the birth. I didn't want him to have to do that alone, but what choice did I have? We decided to give her the option of coming to the hospital to see her.  We talked and he wrote down notes while we thought of how and what to say to our daughter, who has done nothing but talk and think and be excited about the arrival of her baby sister.

After he left, Karen gave Simone a bath and cleaned her up so she looked nice for Gabriela.  It was then that she also weighed her and I was surprised to see Simone was 9 lbs, 14 oz., 21 1/2 inches long.  I had no idea she would be such a big baby!  I was even more amazed after learning of her size that I didn't tear at all from her birth, I was hardly swollen and not sore. I think my body knew that I could only handle so much pain and spared me the physical pain of recovering from childbirth.


When Lane got home, he walked inside to see a huge smile on Gabriela's face quickly disappear.  He told her what had happened and she cried. She said, "I thought you were just going to tell me something bad happened, not that my sister died!" He was crushed. They cried together, picked out an outfit and hat for Simone to wear. And Gabriela wrote her a note that said, "I have so, so much love for you". And at the house, she asked him if we could celebrate Simone's birthday every year.

She came to the hospital to meet her baby sister.  There were moments when she was her normal happy self, curious questioning moments, and very tender heartbreaking moments as well.  She wanted to see Simone's whole body. She marveled at her soft skin, tiny but long fingernails, itty bitty toes. She asked why Simone's lips were so dark red, why her skin was peeling, and what would happen to her body.  Gabriela asked why we couldn't take her home with us, she held Simone, caressed her little cheeks, hugged her, cried, and said goodbye.  She cried and asked what about her crib, and all her diapers and all the clothes she would never wear, and why Simone would never meet her big brother, Easton.  It. tore. us. apart.

Simone's Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Nate and Auntie Liss, Nana and Papa, Auntie Banu and Uncle Matthew, Auntie Cynthia and Uncle Dan, Auntie Kristie, and Uncle Tim, big sister Gabriela and Mommy and Daddy all had the chance to hold her, look at her, and say goodbye.  So much love for our baby girl.

My mom said over and over again how much Simone looked like me when I was a newborn.  She had the same little nose that Gabriela and Easton have, dainty little lips, and the softest head of hair.

Lane brilliantly asked his parents to go to Michael's to get supplies so we could make baby hand and footprints for Simone.  They turned out perfectly. I know we will treasure them always.  The hospital took photos of her as well, and sent us home with them.  And now I appreciate my belly cast more than ever.

Lane and I stayed overnight in the hospital. We weren't sure if we would at first, but the kids were happy to sleep overnight with their cousins.  The hospital staff said we could spend as much time with Simone as we wanted.  But around 12:30 in the morning, we decided it was time to ask them to take her away.  It was a very difficult thing to do, but we had already noticed her body change so much in less than 12 hours.  Truthfully, we weren't sure we could handle what she might look like in the morning, and wanted to remember her the way she was.  We told her how much we loved her, how we would have taken such good care of her, how she would always be our baby, and how terribly sorry we were that this had happened to her, to our family.  But how hard it was to ask someone to take her little body away.  No one should ever have to do that.

Lane and I spent the night cuddled up together in that tiny hospital bed, crying. It was helpful to take the time to grieve for her, just the two of us.  We are surrounded by so much love in each other, our beautiful perfect children, an amazing selfless and giving family, and wonderfully supportive friends. We have to focus on these blessings in our lives and put everything into perspective.  We know that this will help us to love each other more, to be more patient with our children and to truly appreciate every moment we have with them.

It's like this is our gift from Simone. 

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Simone's Tree

We were not planning on having a formal service for Simone. But on Monday, without planning, one somehow organically came together and it was perfect.

Originally, I had been planning to encapsulate my placenta. There are supposed to be so many benefits to ingesting it because of all the hormones in it. It's supposed to prevent that sudden plunge in post partem hormonal levels reducing the chances of post partem depression, give mama more energy, and even help with milk supply. And, even though it seemed like I needed that extra boost now, more than ever, it just didn't feel like the right thing to do anymore. But we still kept the placenta. 

Having our midwife, Beah by our side throughout the whole process at the hospital was such a blessing. She was so warm, loving, and sensitive. Somehow, she knew what to say. She shared that she had lost her 8 month old son, and stories of other families who had experienced similar tragic losses and how they handled them. 

We really liked the idea of planting a tree in Simone's honor. Lane and I decided on a flowering cherry tree. They have always been our favorite, and then have held a special place in our hearts after living in DC. And they have the most beautiful pink blossoms in Simone's birthday month of April. So, a cherry tree was the perfect choice.  And then, my sister asked me if I had read about the symbolism behind the cherry tree. 

"the cherry blossom represents the fragility and the beauty of life. It's a reminder that life is almost overwhelmingly beautiful but that it is also tragically short. When the cherry blossom trees bloom for a short time each year in brilliant force, they serve as a visual reminder of how precious and how precarious life is."

Now, of course this just happened to be our favorite tree, and we chose it without
 ever knowing how truly perfect and fitting it was for our baby girl. 

Lane and Uncle Noal went and got the tree and supplies at our local nursery and then everything just happened, a ceremony that no one actually planned. 

We decided to plant the tree in a big pot, in case we ever move. Lane put some soil in the bottom of our pot, and had me put in the placenta. He shaped it like a heart and we all looked at it. The kids even touched it. We all took turns covering the placenta that nourished Simone and filling the pot with our beautiful cherry tree.


Lane bought a dozen ground cover plants to put at the base of the tree. He had no idea that we would all take turns planting one next to the tree. It was beautiful to have everyone who was present participate in the planting of our baby's tree. We all took turns watering it as well. Everyone was crying and hugging each other. 










And then, my brother Tim pulled a poem out of his pocket and tearfully shared it with us. 

“Just For A Moment”
(From A Silent Love, Adrienne Ryan)
"Our hands have touched, our paths have crossed
A love is gained, a love is lost
Just for a moment I kissed the face
Of an innocent child I can’t replace.
Just for a moment a maternal touch
Would say the words that meant so much
A soft caress, the gentle tears
That will make those minutes last for years.
Just for a moment, I held your hand
My broken heart in your command
So much to tell you, so little time
Why were you punished, what was the crime?
They took part of me when they took you away
As much as I love you, you weren’t meant to stay
I gave you a hug that for always must last
As facing the future means leaving the past.
Our souls have merged, I live for you
Perhaps I’m living your life too
I will carry on, I can always stand tall
Because just for that moment, I had it all."

Friday, April 4, 2014

38 Weeks

Today I am 38 weeks pregnant.

I have been having Braxton Hicks contractions like nobody's business.  The other night, I woke up like four or five times to a rock solid belly.  They are just enough to be uncomfortable (and to wake me up), but not enough to be considered painful.  Sometimes I have ones that I call perma-contractions.  My belly just contracts and stays that way for ages.  The midwives tell me this is very common for subsequent babies and that this will likely continue up until I am actually in labor.

I just have to remember that my body is practicing, and that this will make labor more effective, when it actually starts up for real. With Easton, every time this happened, I thought I was going into labor. It drove me kind of crazy wondering if every day was "the day". So this time, I am trying to keep things into perspective, and get extra rest as often as I can so that I have energy for the big day.

Every day I am taking this birth prep supplement, evening primrose oil, my prenatal vitamin, a probiotic pill, eating dates, and drinking my pregnancy tea to get my body ready for this baby's arrival.

I felt awful and crampy all morning. I took a shower and then declared today "homeschool from bed" day. So Gabriela got into bed with me and we read and did her school work while Easton drove cars up and down my bed and played with stickers on the floor.  After my nap I felt better, so Gabriela and I made a count down paper chain for the baby's birth day.

I have big plans for this weekend to cook and freeze lots of food and get some last minute preparation items taken care of.  Wish me luck!!