One month ago Dion & I were given the worst news we have both ever received in our lives. Our daughter's heart stopped beating.
On Monday, June 13th, I had some leaking which can mean your water broke. I came into the hospital after calling my doctor. The nurse said go ahead and go to Labor & Delivery since the office was almost closed for the day. I called Dion and told him I was going to the hospital but not to worry and I would just drive myself because I was sure it was nothing and that I was overreacting. So Dion played another hole of golf and met me at the hospital.
It was confirmed that my water did break, so we just assumed I'd be in the hospital until I delivered the twins since you can stay pregnant for a little while even after your water breaks as long as you're being monitored. So they strapped me to the heart monitors to monitor Elijah's and Amiah's hearts. They found both heart beats, or so we thought.
About 2 hours later, they needed to give me magnesium to stop the contractions and steroids to mature their lungs in case they came early. When they went to adjust the heart monitors they could not find Amiah's heartbeat. Apparently they were picking up my heartbeat when they initially thought they had Amiah's, and assumed it was her's because mine was so elevated. The doctor brought in an ultrasound machine and was checking to see Amiah's heartbeat. We'd had over 10 ultrasounds at this point, so I knew what a beating heart looks like on a screen. I didn't see her heart moving. The doctor said let me get the better ultrasound machine. I didn't need him to say it, I knew it. I knew she was gone. He brought the other machine in and looked at the screen for a while. He then asked our family to leave the room. My parents and Dion's mom were in the room. I knew why they had to leave, he had to tell us our daughter was dead. He said I'm so sorry you all, her heart is not beating.
After Dion and I had a moment together, he went and told our parents. Dion asked them to go home so that him and I could just be together that night. That was the longest night of my life. I didn't sleep. I was in shock. I felt like a bad mom. I couldn't keep her safe in what is supposed to be the safest place for her. I felt disconnected from my son, because why did he get to live and she didn't?
The next day, we had another ultrasound with the high risk doctor. He told us based on her size, her heart had probably stopped at least a week ago. I felt like he punched me in the gut. Worst mom ever, how did I not know that my daughter wasn't alive for a whole week? How did I not know something was wrong? What if I would have known? Could they have done something to save her?
The days following the news of her death are such a blur. Partly because I was on so much medicine, partly because I did not want to believe this was happening. I still haven't let myself fully grieve her death because it's like I'm in limbo. I know she isn't alive, but she's still inside of me physically. I'm sure the weight of her death will hit me like a ton of bricks the moment I see her and she isn't breathing. Losing a child comes with so much grief, you're not just grieving the loss of your baby, you grieve the loss of a toddler, of a kid, of a teenager, of an adult. All the phases of life that I won't get to have with her.
The days ahead are going to be harder than I can imagine.
