Stillborn - 34 days later - One month and 3 days (Death Certificate)

Today I received her Death Certificate in the mail.
Just the thought of it makes a rock hard lump in my throat and my stomach twist into a knot. I have been working on "not feeling guilty" for the death of my child. That's a tough one to get through. I notice this guilt is always preceded by "should have".

I should have noticed she wasn't moving as much.

I should have went to the hospital sooner.

I should have known.

I received the autopsy results at my last OB appointment on 5/10/16. I asked the questions on my list to the doctor. She went over the fact that Faeryn DID have a normal 3 vessel cord. That the specialist was incorrect. It wasn't a two vessel cord (Single Umbilical Artery), as the specialist had stated on our appointment on 3/29/16. Oh, 3/29/16, that dreaded day when our world first tilted at a slant. Everything was so perfect until 32 weeks along.
I scanned through the autopsy report when I got home from my OB appointment. There was no cause of death stated. Just a bunch of measurements and descriptions on how much my little girls organs weighed, how her skin looked the day after her birth, you know, all the things that no parent "should" have to read about their child. I haven't looked at it since. I've thought about it, but what's it going to solve?
I received a letter addressed from the Funeral Home today. I wasn't sure what was in it. I was thinking maybe a letter or something. Who knew it would be the Death Certificate? Makes sense now, but I wasn't expecting it. To see the official State of Florida Bureau of Vital Statistics information when I opened the envelope, on my little girl, almost made me throw up. Instead of puking, I cried.

I've been trying to come up with what I'm thankful for each day. What I am grateful for. I was asked this from my therapist on our last visit. At that moment my answer was NOTHING. Yes, I was having a fit of pure grief. At the beginning of that therapy session on 5/11/16 I found out that my therapist has taken a wonderful position as a director for a rehabilitation center. A very prestigious job, and of course not one that she could pass up. I've been seeing her since my Mother's death in 2014. I was making such progress. I had not had a panic attack until I found out I was pregnant, she got me through that and then we were working on the death of my child, just over a month ago.

She asked me how the news of her new job, and our termination of therapy made me feel. I cried and said it's another loss. I was angry. I don't know at what exactly. I felt like I was being thrown for yet another loop. I need her.
I'm a overly independent person, I never ask for help. I would rather not impose myself on people. We've been working on that for 2 years, my fear of rejection when asking for help. She is someone that I've come to trust. She is someone that I respect and seek guidance from. She is someone that I need. She is soon to be gone as well.

I will continue to survive. I have never cried so many tears in my entire life. I've lived 37 years of my life without a child, but now I question how I will live the rest of my life without her, my Faeryn Willow. My heart is heavy tonight. It is an actual physical pain. There is a tightness in my chest, an ache. Heartache.

I'm setting up her room tonight. We had just put her crib together the weekend before we found out she died. I was clearing off the shelf and preparing to take that down to fit her crib on that wall. It was all left in disarray and hasn't been touched since she passed away in my belly. Tonight, I'm finishing clearing off the shelves; dusting them. I have cleared off everything that doesn't have meaning. This will be her shelf now. She received some stuffed animal gifts from family and friends before her death. Those are up there. I have a Dr. Seuss book that was mine as a child, it even has my name scrawled in it from my youth. I was going to read that to her. I remember finding that book during my pregnancy and thinking how fun that would be to share with her. Bed time stories with my girl. That book is on her shelf now. A special shelf for my special angel.

So, what am I thankful for tonight... I am thankful for the little girl I had to say goodbye to before I even said hello. She changed my life and my whole being. She changed ME. Completely. She showed me how much I LOVE her by how much I GRIEVE for her. I love her and grieve for her with every inch of my body and soul; every fiber of my being. She taught me true love. I have loved before, but not like this. I felt true love as soon as I birthed her. Instantly- right that moment. I loved her so much that I would do it all over again. Every. Single. Thing. Again. Her life, and her death; I would do it ALL over again, even knowing I couldn't change a thing.

I would live this pain again, just to know her as I know her.

That is true love.

Stillborn - 30 days later - 4 weeks and 1 day (She is everywhere)

She is everywhere.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. It was a pretty rough day to say the least.
Today was worse.
I woke up singing the song that Tim has stated he wants played at his funeral one day. Since Faeryn passed away, Tim now plays that song daily for himself. Every morning in the car on his way to work. The song is by Michael Jackson, "You Are Not Alone". He says he believes that is her song to him.
So that's what I woke up singing this morning. Needless to say it depresses me. Maybe he finds inspiration in it, but me, makes me cry. I get up, put on my robe, pick out clothes to wear to work, walk past the "Baby Girl" balloon from 4/08/16, the day of Faeryn's baby shower, the day we found out she had no heart beat.
The balloon is somehow still inflated. It's a little crinkly but it still floats near the fireplace mantle and moves around when we stir enough air as we walk past.

She is everywhere.

I get dressed, straighten my hair and put on the necklace I wear daily. There are 9 charms on it. It was given to me by someone I've never met in person, but someone that is dear to my heart now. Tim's best friend, Paul - his mother. She was at the baby shower that Tim's work threw for him. The one that the balloon came from. She made me this necklace. It has a picture of Faeryn that she encased in a heart. On that picture it says "Our Heart, Our Faeryn". There is a moon and star charm attached to an emerald, a topaz and a pearl; the birthday gemstones for Faeryn's due date, me and Tim. There is a "F" charm, and an "S" charm. A charm that represents the night sky- purple and diamonds. A sparkly purple charm (the color of the nursery). A diamond charm for Faeryn's actual day of her birth (April 10th), a heart that says "Love" and an angel's wing.

She is everywhere.
 
I go to work this morning and Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" is on the radio. I'm instantly reminded of the day that Faeryn was in my tummy and I imagined she was dancing to this song a few months ago. I tried to record her moving. I still have the recording on my phone. All you can see is me breathing. But I know what was happening in that video. She was moving so much that morning. I laughed and thought, "this little girl loves her some Johnny Cash", and couldn't wait until the day she was born and I could play it for her, see her reaction. I remembered this like it was yesterday.

She is everywhere.

I get to work, go to put my purse away in my drawer and I see the Sriracha Peas that I would eat every day during my pregnancy. I loved them, craved them. We at work made jokes about me eating those peas every day. They are in little individual packets. I haven't ate them since we lost her.

She is everywhere.

A friend of mine Kathy, at work, came over to check on me today. See how I was doing. I was holding it together, but I knew since this morning that it would be a rough day. I expected to have to excuse myself at least once today. She mentioned that my boss Cheryl, who has a 5 month old and who has become an amazing ally and friend to me said that she wanted to text me on Mother's Day. Cheryl didn't know where I was at emotionally that day. So she didn't. Instead Cheryl, my friend, cried all morning for me on Mother's Day. Kathy said it was probably because Cheryl had her own hopes and dreams as our daughters would be 5 months apart when Faeryn was due, they would have been best friends we always said. Cheryl was mourning the loss too. For me.

She is everywhere.

I showed Kathy the picture I drew/painted of Faeryn. She hasn't seen any pictures of Faeryn. Any of our "Fetal Demise Photography". Our memories. I showed her my drawing and explained that its not "right". I have a picture in my head and I have the photographs but I can't get it right on paper. I then ask her if she wants to see a picture. A picture of my baby girl. I start to cry. She has a straight face and says yes. Through my tears I find the picture I have of her on my phone. A photograph. I show her and turn away. I don't watch her face, I let her zoom in and she now see's the little one that was growing in my tummy all 8 months. The one who's heartbeat she heard with me at my Doctor's appointment 3 days before she died. Such a strong heartbeat that day. I think it makes it so much more real when people see Faeryn. She no longer is a thought, or a thing that happened. She's real.

She is everywhere.

I turned back and Kathy was crying. Last time I saw her cry is when I came in to work and told her I was pregnant back in September. I heard her cry and yell and question WHY when I called her from Maternity Triage to tell her I lost Faeryn. But I saw her cry today. She also kissed Faeryn's picture on my phone. Just like I do. I touch the picture as if I'm touching Faeryn. As that's as close as I will ever get.

She is everywhere,
and yet
She is not here.
 
 

The First Trimester

The stress of telling friends, family and my workplace that I'm now pregnant. This is how I remember the first trimester.
My Mom passed away on April 23rd, 2014. She was sick for so long (7 years) with Frontotemporal Dementia, also known as FTD. She had the semantic variant with Primary Progressive Aphasia. So, I hadn't heard her voice or a sentence for years before she passed away. I really miss my Mom's voice.
Anyway, I remember thinking that SHE would be the one person that would be ecstatic to hear of my pregnancy. She loved babies.
My Mom and Dad's marriage was the romantic love story that you always hear about. They met, fell deeply in love, and he took care of her in their home until she could no longer swallow on her own and passed away.
I remember being so afraid to tell my Dad I was pregnant. I'm not sure why exactly. I mean, I was 37 years old and had been married for 8 years. I think it might be the fact that I'm a "planner". I like to plan all things in my life. He's the same way. The fact that this was unplanned was a bit of a shock. My husband and I weren't using protection for 8 years, but I figured that since it hadn't happened yet, that my eggs must be ancient, old and shriveled up so it just wasn't "meant to be". Oh... how I loved to use that phrase all the time back then.
My best friend was so excited, she was 38 and had just had a little boy. By the time I was due (May 23rd, 2016) they would be one year apart. I think she at that point was imagining our children either being best friends (if it was a boy) or married one day (if it was a girl). I asked her so many questions - she was definitely my go-to person on all pregnancy symptoms in the beginning.
I experienced night sickness. I HATE throwing up, puking, vomiting - whatever you would like to call it. I'm one of those people that would rather be nauseous then throw up and get it over with.
I never once puked. But every night I would feel right on the verge throughout the first trimester.
I bought the book "What to expect when your expecting", I bought ginger candies, I bought gummy prenatal vitamins. I quit taking my allergy nose spray and inspected my new pregnancy app for all medications to see how they were categorized. I felt like I was being pretty responsible. Trying to take this all in stride. I had an OB recommended to me through my General Practitioner, whom she went to. I made an appointment at 9 weeks and 1 day and we got to see what everything looked like in there, in my belly. Tim, my husband was so excited to go to the ultrasound appointment. I remember that clearly.
Here's what we saw:

This was when things changed for me.
Seeing that little tiny bean in there with that big old head and tiny little foot sticking out.
I remember thinking "Wow... there's a little alien being in there!"
Of course I couldn't feel any movements until the 2nd trimester, so I spent the first trimester feeling a little claustrophobic.
I remember one night I got freaked out that I'm having to change my WHOLE LIFE for this baby. You have no idea how this thought haunts me now. There were so many thoughts that now haunt me. I have a whole slew of "Should have's" that I now live with daily. If I could only go back in time... there's so much I would change. And it would all be with me, how I think, and I would have given more love to this little alien being in my belly. I would have cherished every moment.

How it all began

Before...
I asked my husband about 2 years ago - Are you happy with our life? Just us, our cats (we have 4) and no children? I was getting ready to turn 37 and he had just turned 42. He replied "yes". Seemed sincere. Made me feel okay. I wanted to make sure that he was as okay as I was with not having children. I've never been the maternal type. Ever. When we would go to restaurants and were sat next to a family with a child under 8 years old I would normally sigh internally and hope that they wouldn't be loud and obnoxious. If they were under 2 years old I would quickly judge how closely the parents were monitoring the child, as I would not want to attempt to eat dinner next to a family that lets their child scream without addressing the situation.
It's not that I HATED children. I had two nieces whom I adore. It's just that I never had that NEED for children. The biological clock that people mentioned never chimed for me.

Fast forward to 2015. 37 years old. I started a new job in April. I loved it. Everyone was great. I got my own office! I've never had one of those before in my life, and it's HUGE. Everything is pretty darn fantastic.
September 2015: Umm... My periods have been on schedule, 28 day cycles, exact for years. My boobs were sore and I had slight cramping. I remember thinking "just start already". Went to work out, couldn't even do some machines, as the slightest touch to my chest area was crazy pain.
7 days later: Called my best friend. Told her "it's weird, my boobs are really sore, BUT I'm having cramping, BUT I'm around 7 days late." Her immediate response was "Holy Shit, you're pregnant."
8 days later: Searched through the cabinet beneath my sink. I could remember there were ancient pregnancy tests in there. I'm talking SUPER EXPIRED. Surprised there weren't cobwebs on them.
It's 2:00AM, husband is asleep. I take the test out of its foil packaging. Pee on the stick. I can remember not breathing. I stared at the window INTENTLY. The instructions said 2 or 3 minutes and the test will be complete. I remember the second line forming as soon as the "test line" formed.
Holy Fuck. My world turned upside down. I felt nauseous. I was pregnant.
I woke him up, I was crying. He had those gigantic eyeballs that people get when you wake them from a deep sleep and they are pretending they are wide awake. I was crying now. "I'm scared you're going to be mad or freaked out." I say. Who knows what he was thinking was wrong at the time, but I could tell from his face that yes, that sentence had freaked him out. "I'm PREGNANT!". I didn't say this with the elation you may be imagining. Not the type of things you see around the web or on commercials. It was said with complete and utter fear. Fear of his response. Fear of what the fuck am I gonna do??
His response was "It's okay, everything will be okay." I asked "are you freaked out? Are you scared?" He said no. And he hugged me.
I don't know how I fell asleep that night, that part is fuzzy, but I do remember having a full blown, not being able to breathe, panic attack the next morning as I was having coffee. OMG should I be having coffee? I can't even take a Klonopin! Holy Shit. I'm trapped!
My husband grabbed my hand, said to make a doctor's appointment for a real test in case that ancient test upstairs was giving us a false positive.
Thursday my doctors office is open after work hours. I go, pee in a cup. I can feel the puke feeling rising. I try to breathe through it. Doctor comes in - "Yep, you're pregnant."
I think the room diminished to the size of a peep hole. Like I was looking through a periscope. Everything was black around me but there was this tunnel vision. I kept breathing. The room came back into view. I asked "what do I do now?" She said, "Listen, I just had my first child a year ago, and I thought I didn't want children, but they are great. Motherhood changes you, as soon as you have the child, it changes." Yeah, that's what they ALL say. She's one of THEM though. The people that have children and like them. The people who's children like them back. Will my child like me? Too many thoughts, I start to feel claustrophobic and need to find an Obstetrician. I'm considered "High Risk" my general practitioner says. Great. Why? "because you are of advanced maternal age." Jesus.
I'm geriatric and pregnant.