Deep down I had a feeling that something may have been wrong. We’d had a perfect ultrasound at 20 weeks and found out that we were having another boy. Every body part and system they looked at checked out and we were relieved to have another healthy child. I hadn’t been feeling him kick yet, but the sonographer reassured me that it may be a little later since my placenta was positioned in front. I became more and more anxious to feel him with each day and week. 23 weeks hit and I became concerned which turned into worried which turned into panic by Friday. My next appointment was the following Monday, but I called a nurse on Friday to express my concerns and try to get some reassurance. She did just that and I had mostly peace through the weekend, even enough to paint his room with our friend. I told BJ that I would be fine to go to my appointment by myself, despite my recent fears. I explained it later that deep down I felt something might be wrong, but even deeper down I really never thought we would face what we were about to.
I saw the nurse and finally Dr. Cooper came in with the doppler. Time stood still as she searched and searched for a heartbeat. I looked at her face and knew she was trying not to show me concern. Moments later I was stepping into the ultrasound room and my worst fears were realized. Our baby boy was gone, most likely 2 weeks before. I felt numb, sick, and out of my body all at the same time. Dr. Cooper was so kind and with tears in her eyes walked me through what this process would look like. I could barely comprehend any of it. BJ was on his way by this point and I knew she would need to repeat all of it for him. He met me in her office and we just held each other and cried. Dr. Cooper gently explained to us that within the next 24 hours I would need to be admitted in the hospital and induced to deliver our baby. It felt like the cruelest and harshest way possible to move ahead, but she explained that it was by far the safest for this stage of development. We walked out the back and I could barely walk to the car.
Over the next several hours I went between disbelief, grief, and plan mode. And our roller coaster ride had begun. It’s a cruel irony that in one of the most tragic events I could imagine we were forced to carry on making decisions and plans. We went to my parents’ house and told them our devastating news. We just cried together as the boys ate peanut butter sandwiches and played trains. I couldn’t even imagine getting through the next 48 hours. I can remember desperately wanting to handle this tragedy quietly amongst ourselves and wanting to feel normal again. I didn’t want the attention and sympathy and ripple across our family and friends. We knew we needed to tell the boys and that night before bed we told them as best we could that their “baby buh” wasn’t in mommy’s tummy anymore, but that he had gone to heaven to be with Jesus. We pointed up and told them that Baby Buh was so happy now and that we would see him again someday. They pointed up with us and then promptly requested their train book to be read. I guess that went well.
We met with our pastor that evening and he walked us through some of the decisions we would be faced with in the hospital and after. It’s crazy how in 12 hours we had gone from making decisions like paint colors for the nursery to decisions about testing for a cause of death and how our time would be spent with our tiny son. We knew that we were in way over our heads and weren’t even sure where to begin. Mike was exactly what we needed and provided a necessary support throughout the week.
We also had the blessing of spending time the next day with my dear friend, Rachael, who is a NICU nurse. She played another helpful role of preparing us for what to expect in our time with Grant and gave us some great spiritual perspectives in what we were facing. We are so grateful for all of the loving and tender preparation we received.
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