Each day I felt the heaviness of losing the girl that I had always wanted, but my love for the little boy grew as he continued to develop. I was so afraid that something would happen to him. What if I lost him too? The doctors told me that occasionally the twin that had passed away would miscarry and cause the other child to miscarry as well. Usually though, the tissue from the baby that died would be absorbed back into the tissue of the placenta and by the time I went into labor the tissue would no longer be identifiable as a baby. I know that may be hard to read, or sound gross. Believe me, it was hard to hear. She would remain in my uterus, growing smaller every day…. next to her brother who continued to thrive. Thankfully.
As my baby belly grew larger and larger, a fierce protective love began to grow and deepen. I needed to pull myself out of my funk and be strong for him. I needed him to know how much I loved him. It was hard to not get pulled back into depression though. Every time we went out and someone commented on my cute baby belly, one of my kids would announce to the unsuspecting stranger or a friend who didn’t know that “there were two babies in there but one of them had died.” There was always an uncomfortable silence as they processed the information and didn’t know how to respond.
Since my baby was growing normally and the risk of having a miscarriage was decreasing, it was possible that we would be able to go back to our original plan of having a home birth. So I kept the idea on the table but continued to see my regular doctor. I began to feel a little bounce in my step, a more positive outlook on life, and anticipation for our new adventure with 3 boys. We began to grow closer as a family. On my birthday we were celebrating in Cayucos, my husband had a gig and a bunch of us went out to eat beforehand. While we were eating dinner we were jokingly tossing around ideas for names and we started saying the last names of famous musicians. Van Halen, McCartney, Starr….
Lennon.
Best name ever. It was the perfect name. John Lennon was one of our favorite musicians, such a talented beautiful, creative, inspiring and peaceful person. I couldn’t think of a better name for this little boy that was changing our lives and inspiring our hearts every day.
One day, when I was about 31 weeks pregnant – the day of a doctor’s appointment, I felt some cramping. When I went to the bathroom there was a strange beige colored discharge. I felt concerned, and called the doctors office to make sure the Doctor would be at my appointment (I was supposed to just be meeting with one of the midwives). When I arrived, and the midwife “checked me” she immediately said “I’ll be right back, I need to get the doctor.” As I waited for them to come back in, fear arose in my chest… my uterus contracting slightly. He walked in, calm and collected and carefully checked my cervical area. The nurse handed him some clippers, and he cut through something, and then gently pulled it from my body.
I asked what was going on, and he said that the baby that had died had miscarried. The discharge that I had seen that morning had been part of the tissue from her body, and that he had just pulled the rest of her remains from my body. I asked if I could see her. He placed her in my hand. She fit, from palm to finger tips in my hand. My baby girl, the one that I had always dreamed about dressing up and climbing trees with. Her name would've been Lilly. I was holding what was left of her… and somehow staring in wonderment and sorrow at her tiny fingers and toes and the outline of her nose. It was surreal and heartbreaking. I asked if I could take her home, and the doctor said that they would have to do some tests on her, to see what had gone wrong, and then he would see if they would release her to me.
I felt a contraction in my abdomen again.
The doctor told me that I was beginning pre-mature labor and that my cervix was dilating. I needed to go and check myself into the hospital so that they could try to stop the labor. ”We don’t want your baby to be born yet, it’s much too early. His lungs are not completely developed. They will give you something to help his lungs develop quicker …” He continued on as my mind raced with fear and anxiety. I was only 31 weeks pregnant.
“Wait, what?”
“Check yourself into the hospital, immediately.”
I felt fear, stress, anger, and frustration. Wounds being re-opened, wounds I had been carefully trying to heal and now I had to check myself into the hospital because I was going into labor and might lose my baby Lennon.
I WILL NOT LOSE HIM.
I was determined…but also scared shitless. I left the doctors office and went out to my car. If I remember correctly, I made some phone calls from there, one to my husband and one to my mom. I let them know what was going on and began to attempt to micro-manage everything to make sure that the kids got picked up from school and that everyone would be okay without me. They both told me not to worry and that they would make sure everything was taken care of. In that moment, the only thing I could do was drive myself one block over to the hospital to check myself in. If you know me, you know I’m someone who will do everything in her power to avoid even going to the doctor’s office, let alone the hospital. But for my family, I will do everything it takes to make sure they are okay.
I bravely walked through the doors, went up the elevator to the labor and delivery wing and surrendered myself to the hospital staff. The doctor’s office had called ahead to let them know I was coming, so they were prepared for me. They gave me my own room and hooked me up with an IV with something they hoped would stop the labor. It worked for about 5 hours but then the contractions started up again. Then they gave me Magnesium Sulfate because it would help my baby's lungs and heart develop more quickly so that if he was born early he would have a better chance of surviving.
As I waited in the hospital room for someone to tell me what was going on, I continued to feel slight contractions every once in a while. They were not painful, just a small twinge. But the strange thing was that every time I had a contraction, the heart monitor would slow way down. It turned out that every time I was contracting, Lennon’s heart rate would plummet.
My doctor came in to visit me and told me that I was officially on disability and on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I couldn’t even walk across the room to go to the bathroom, the nurses brought in a bed-pan and set it next to my bed. Every time I would get up to go to the bathroom, the monitors would come off and it would take a while to get everything hooked up properly. Every time this happened my chest would fill with panic because I couldn’t hear Lennon’s heartbeat. I slept lucidly during my time in the hospital. I was always conscious of that precious heart beating on the monitor.
I was assured that I was in wonderful hands. Sierra Vista hospital is known for their NICU facilities and most babies that are born early survive and grow into healthy children. They were going to do everything they could to stop the labor, but wanted me to trust that no matter what, everything would be okay. This was reassuring to me, but I was still scared out of my mind and I wanted my husband, my mom, my friends, and my kids. Anyone. I just needed someone to be there with me.
The doctors would not let me leave the hospital until I had gone 24 hours without Lennon’s heart rate decreasing during a contraction. Hours would pass, and then when we thought we were in the clear his heart rate would plummet again. My biggest fear was that it would stop completely…but as soon as the contraction would stop, his heart would beat at a normal rate again. At one point I had an ultrasound and we discovered that the baby was breech. Unless he turned around, we would have to have a c-section. This scared the crap out of me, but I knew that the most important thing was that Lennon was safe. Eventually I felt him moving around inside me, and he adjusted his body so that he was in position to birth naturally.
The next few days were a blur. It’s hard for me to stay in one place for very long and I don’t like being indoors for days on end. The nurses were kind and supportive. They assured me that everything would be fine and that I would only have an emergency c-section if the baby was in distress. My doctor came to visit and he said he was going out of town and told me to hold off on having the baby until he got back. He introduced me to his partner, a lovely woman that would attend my birth if I went into labor while he was gone. We discussed my plan and I shared that I would like to have a natural birth as long as it was safe for the baby. She agreed and supported the plan because she thought it would be best for the baby. I made a point of telling every new nurse on duty what the plan for birth was. There was only one nurse that disagreed with me. I remember the confusion and frustration my mom and I felt when a new nurse came in and said, “Oh, you’re going to have a c-section for sure.” She was positive that it was the only viable option and made me feel guilty for even thinking otherwise. Later I found out that she was known to be a bit opinionated but that the plan was still in place for me to birth naturally, and the NICU staff would be ready if Lennon came early.
I had been in the hospital for a week. I had many visitors, friends and family bringing gifts, prayers and words of encouragement. My husband and my mom would take turns spending the night in the hospital room with me. My friends and family pulled together and took care of the kids while hubby was at work, got them to school; they brought us home cooked meals. There was a huge outpouring of love, prayers and thoughtfulness from my village. How did I get so lucky? I tried to micro-manage, to make sure that everything was okay, but I didn’t need to because these amazing people made sure that we were all taken care of. I will forever be grateful to everyone that helped out, near or far.
My husband is always strong. I knew he was worried but he stayed positive for me and was sure that everything was going to be okay. Inside I am pretty sure he was stressed about both of us. He kept himself busy at home, it’s easier for him to work when he’s stressed out and I am sure it was hard for him, being a full time dad trying to hold down the fort. He brought the kids in to visit me several times and I savored every moment cuddling them. My mom was at my side every possible moment that she wasn’t with the kids. Reassuring me, and standing up for me. Everyone was exhausted because they were spending the night in the hospital in an uncomfortable bed, taking care of things at home or waking up early to get the kids ready for school.
The contractions never slowed enough for me to go home, and each time I had one, Lennon’s heart rate decreased. The doctors told me that this could continue for a month, but that I could not leave the hospital. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in there for that long. I am pretty sure I would lose my mind. I am thankful I didn’t have to wait to find out.
On Saturday night my water broke. That meant there was no way I was going home. The doctor said that my amniotic fluid could replenish itself, and that the baby would still be fine…and that I could still be in the hospital for a long time. My mom spent the night in the hospital with me, and we woke off and on throughout the night as my contractions progressed. By morning they were consistent, close together, and becoming more painful. Later my mom checked the contraction monitor -7:50, 8:00, 8:12, 8:38, 9:06. Like clockwork.
Here’s the part where I am thankful that my mom took the time to write in her journal…
My doctor walked in that morning, after the nurses let her know that my contractions were closer together. She took one look at me and said “You look different, it looks like you are ready to have a baby.” I felt ready. I was excited and scared, but I knew everything would be okay. I trusted the doctors and nurses.
We knew that my deliveries tend to go quickly once they begin, so we called John at 9:32. More contractions. We called Laura and Edana at 9:42. I think we all learned from my previous births that when I go into labor you’ve got to hurry if you want to make it. They rushed over as quickly as possible. At 10:16 my mom saw John pull into the parking lot and called him “Run up the stairs!” He made it just in time. I remember looking out the window, surrounded by my family and friends. The beautiful view of Madonna Mountain out the window gave me the stability; the people surrounding me gave me the strength and courage. Everyone was ready, and in place. There were doctors and NICU staff ready to go. Everyone was in position.
Lennon was born at 10:24 am on September 29th. 8 weeks early. He came out easily because he was so small. I held his tiny 3 pound 11 ounce body against my chest for a moment. He was smooth, precious, newborn perfection. They whisked him away quickly, hooked up to tubes and monitors and took him straight to the NICU.
This precious, tiny little boy was a complete surprise, he threw me for a loop, and he turned our world upside down. His sister’s death shattered my heart into a million pieces. But he healed me, and my family and friends support healed me.
Now the doctors would heal him.
They let me go and visit him a few minutes later, after he was all hooked up. His precious pink body bundled up. Monitors making sure he was breathing regularly, tubes going through his nose and down into his chest, showing his lungs how to expand and contract. I touched his little hand and my world changed forever.
I will do anything for this child.
I spent as long as I could with him, but eventually had to go and get some rest.
The next day when I went in to visit him the nurses asked if I wanted to hold him skin to skin. My heart burst with joy and love as I held his little body next to mine. I sang to him and he cuddled close to my heart. They let me try to nurse him every time I visited him, and reassured me that even though he couldn’t latch on just yet, he would be able to. I began pumping every 3 hours, trying to create as much milk as I possibly could. The nurses would take my precious milk…no matter how small the amount, and fed it to Lennon in a feeding tube.
The day that I was released from the hospital was one of the hardest days of my life. I got into the elevator with a woman that was leaving with her baby in a car seat. Her baby was a healthy 8 pound bundle of joy. She had so much joy in her eyes, and excitement to be taking her baby home. I couldn’t help it. I just burst into tears. She was leaving WITH her baby, and I was leaving WITHOUT mine.
A few days after Lennon was born, the doctor called me to tell me that they were able to release Lilly to me. Again, my heart was breaking. I went and picked her up from the office. I had found a pretty box to put her in. I buried her next to Lennon’s special tree (each of my children has a tree in our backyard where their placenta nourishes the roots) and planted Lilly's to mark her special place. I know that her spirit is out there somewhere, watching over us and giving us protection and strength. Lennon’s little guardian angel.
I spent the next 5 weeks pumping milk every 3 hours. Every day after getting the kids ready for school and taking them to daycare I would drive the 20 miles to visit Lennon in the hospital. I would nurse him and hold him for hours. I would sing to him, and the nurses would wipe the tears from their eyes when they came to check on us. I know they could hear the tears in my voice, the longing to take him home with me. It was hard on my family because I wanted to be with them, and be there for them, but I also wanted to be at the hospital with Lennon. Every day he became stronger and stronger. The doctors said that when he was over 5 pounds and was taking 10 feedings a day by bottle or breast, he would be ready to come home.
One day I walked into the NICU and the doctor was checking Lennon’s vitals. The tubes were all gone from his body. The doctor looked at me with a smile and said “Do you want to take him home?”
I felt pure joy and bliss envelope my whole spirit.
Our baby was finally coming home.
Lennon is now a healthy almost 3-year-old boy. He is beautiful and strong, curious and brave. He loves his big brothers and his family very much. Some day he will read the epic story of his birth, and understand all the tears, and sadness, joy and fierce courage and the importance of having a village of family and friends. In the meantime, I will sing him to sleep every night and be grateful for the sound of his breath and the strong beat of his heart.
John and the boys visiting and the hospital.
