I had a fitful night. I didn't feel like I was in my right mind, honestly. It had been ten days since I was admitted into the hospital. The emotional toll of everything was beginning to wear on me, and the doctors were concerned I would get an infection. We found out this morning that, where originally Carlie Wren had only her feet in my cervix, she'd moved to a squatting position. The doctor warned this made labor inevitable. He also warned that cord compression was a possibility. As with every day before, I cried until I lost the energy to create tears. Just a day before, it had appeared that Carlie had tucked her feet up higher. With the ultrasound today, it crushed the 7th wind we were riding on from the good news. Still, we remained prayerful, believing that God could create a miracle in Carlie Wren's survival. That night, I was placed on a contraction monitor per my fear that I was going into labor. No contractions were found, and at 4:00 a.m. that morning, I heard my sweet baby girl's heartbeat for the last time. It lingered in the 140's, as it had since I was admitted. I fought my sleeping pill, and for the first time, I was given both my sleeping pill and an anxiety pill so that I could sleep. It was the best sleep I had while in the hospital. Somehow, I feel like my spirit was being quickened, knowing that Carlie wouldn't live another day. Perhaps me fighting sleep was my attempt at grasping the last few moments with my baby girl. The last song Mommy played for her on the IPod, before eventually trying to sleep, was The Pretenders "I'll Stand By You."}
Day 1 (July 21st):
I slept until 9 that morning, before meeting the doctor that was on call, Dr. Stacy Hunt-Okolo . I had never met her before, but she quickly became the angel I needed for this difficult day.
I specifically remember that on this day, where I usually would've had Carlie's heartbeat checked on the doppler in the morning, I napped throughout the day and a nurse didn't get to me to check her heart rate until after 2:00 p.m. At that time, the nurses spent what felt like an eternity, poking around near my pubic bone to try and get Carlie's heart rate. They reassured me that perhaps since she had dropped so low that getting a heart rate via the doppler wasn't possible. They ordered that an ultrasound be done in my room by Dr. Hunt-Okolo. Wesley and I were anxious, but we didn't lose hope. We reasoned she was just too low to pick up a heart rate. After all, she'd had such a strong, healthy heartbeat earlier that morning. Surely, just as she had so many times before, Carlie was just keeping her Mommy and Daddy on their toes.
They rolled the ultrasound machine into our room, coating the lower part of my swollen belly with the gel I'd grown accustomed to for the last 11 days. As the doctor began maneuvering the wand, I immediately noticed that our wiggly Wren wasn't moving around as she usually had before. I reasoned that she couldn't move a lot because of the absence of fluid in the sac. But soon, the doctor's sorrow-filled eyes turned to lock on mine. She grasped my hand as she slowly shook her head "No", her lips tightly held together as she communicated an unspoken message. She pointed out the absence of movement inside the four chambers of the heart. She explained it was difficult to see things clearly due to the lack of fluid. She asked if we'd like to have a second ultrasound after I filled my bladder, stating that the fluid might help us see things clearer to double-check. Relieved, I whole-heartedly agreed. As soon as the nurse and doctor left the room, I broke down. Wesley placed his hand on my stomach and we prayed a dozen prayers, much in the same language that Jesus used to will Lazarus to life. We weren't giving up hope. God could still revive her tiny, strong heartbeat. He could, if it was in His will. After the second ultrasound, we learned that nothing had changed. Our daughter was really gone.
Through the guidance and encouragement of one of my nurses, Whittney, I decided to begin induction of labor that night, and the process began around 11:00 p.m.
Day 2 - Carlie Wren's Birthday - (July 22):
Actual induction began at 3:30 a.m., and six hours later, my beautiful baby was born. My insides quaked with nervousness, as I wasn't sure what she'd look like. A 21 weeker isn't fully developed, and the longer the baby stays inside the womb, the more their body will change. However, as soon as she was placed in my arms, I fell in love. She was beautiful. She was perfect. She was ours.
I never wanted to let her go, but eventually I had to try and get up to use the restroom. If I wasn't successful by 6 p.m. that night, I would need to have a catheter put in. After a horrible experience with my first catheter, I was scared to death of having a second. However, I wasn't successful. As soon as I sat down in the bathroom, I began to pass out. They used ammonia to bring me back, and it took me several minutes to reach complete consciousness. It was discovered that due to the large amount of blood I lost before and during delivery, I would need a blood transfusion. I eventually did have to have a catheter in, as my uterus began spasming due to the fullness of my bladder. This was by far the most physically painful thing I'd experienced in the hospital, and ever.
I couldn't bear to give Carlie's tiny, 11 ounce body to a nurse until well into the night. It killed me, and my arms ached the moment she was taken from me.
Day 3 (July 23rd):
I was given a blood transfusion, and received three bags of blood. After this, my color began returning to normal, and I started feeling better. There were many, many tears shed this day. Things were sinking in, and with each new realization, I was devastated. We battled with decisions no parent should have to make; burial or cremation. I asked for her body again, and a nurse brought her to me. I'm still not sure if this was the best decision, as she had deteriorated significantly. It was heartbreaking to see how fragile she was. Still, I was able to tell her the mommy things I'd wanted to say the day before, but couldn't muster the energy to utter. I sobbed as Wesley called for the nurse to come take her. Though my mind told me it was time, my heart just couldn't let go of her. I begged for more time, but in the end, it was best to let her go. I didn't want to cause her tiny body any more trauma. I went to sleep with a heavy heart, knowing that she would never be coming home with me.
Day 4 (July 24 - Carlie's Graveside Service & Burial):
The next morning, I was so ready to leave the hospital. This day marked two weeks since we'd arrived. I was torn, because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving my baby at the hospital without me being there. God mercifully orchestrated an opportunity for Carlie to be buried that evening. I panicked at first, pleading with Wesley, telling him I wasn't ready for any of this yet. However, my desire for her to be at rest overruled my anxiety. I finally got out of the bed, and Wesley and I cuddled on the hard loveseat in the room, positioned by the window. We watched birds fly by, and more tears were shed. I was finally discharged, with a little over three hours to spare before we were to be at the Graveside Service. I sobbed through the whole service, and leaving her side was one of the hardest thing I've ever had to do. If it'd been my choice, I would have camped out with her that night. These thoughts aren't rational. I know that my baby is in Heaven, rejoicing with the angels. But that fact doesn't automatically turn off my motherly instincts and need to protect and nurture Carlie Wren. So, I waited until the dirt tucked her in tight, and then I waited some more. I was so frustrated as I heard people talking around me. Couldn't they understand my world had stopped for a moment, and the last thing I wanted to hear was the outside world carrying on with business as usual?
Eventually, it was time to go. Wesley comforted me by describing her first night in the cemetery:
"She'll be out under the stars, out in the country. And she can listen to the birds."
At the exact moment he said this, a chorus of birds began chirping cheerfully. I smiled internally, and it was just the strength I needed to rise from the ground, the soil of her grave rubbed into my palms, as we made our way back home.
Day 5 (July 25th):
I received the first few edits of our photos, courtesy of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep and Brandy Kemp. They were breathtaking. We cried at how beautiful they were, and we mourned the loss of our daughter. I soon learned that aching sorrow would become a daily occurrence, not easily avoided.
