A New Day

We were woken up a few hours later for my vital checks. Neal laid down on the father's bed and I had another reality check. I still had to deal with the effects of delivery via cesarean section sans baby. It sucked. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief knowing we got through the first day and we were on to day two. We just have to take it a day at a time, I told myself. I was still in shock and denial that it even happened. I got out my phone and texted my friends.

The text I sent was similar to one I've sent to them twice before. My friends and I always shoot each other a text after we have a baby and announce the time of birth, weight, name, pictures, etc. This text was just so different and filled with so much pain. They all responded back with so much love and heartache and it was just what I needed. I felt relief again knowing we had a strong support system to get us through this.

Within a couple hours we started receiving flowers and cards. It made a dark hospital room feel a little bit lighter. They really helped.

The rest of my hospital stay was a blur. I don't remember much. I know we had a lot of visitors. We received flowers and cards and treats. The kids came to visit every day and every day it was hard for them to say goodbye. I wanted to be home but I also didn't want to go home and deal with what was to come next. We stayed in the hospital for 5 days before I was released.

We slept a lot and I obliged any time I was offered pain medication. I just wanted to numb out and not feel anything. I could feel myself shutting down anyway- I may as well not be in physical pain while I'm at it. (*no I didn't turn into a drug addict after this)

After a C-section they ask you to start walking the next day and walk further and further the days following. Most new moms get to push their babies bassinets down the hall. I got to improvise and push Liam and Kate in a wheelchair around the maternity ward floor. The doctors were nice and set us up in a room furthest down the hall from all the 'alive' babies. They put a special sticker on our door reminding staff that our room was 'sensitive' and to not ask where our baby is.

As I pushed the kids down the hall, their laughter filled it, and filled my soul. I felt alive and knew they were extra special blessings that would get us through this. We passed the nursery and looked at all the babies. We passed the rooms with moms and babies crying. I forgot how frustrating breastfeeding can be with a screaming newborn. But those screams made my heart hurt. I would give anything to deal with a screaming baby right now over dealing with the prep work to bury one.

We raced back to the room after stealing more oreos from the snack pantry. We are emotional eaters.

The doctors and staff were so kind and gentle to me and my family. Dr. Ward (who also delivered Kate) came in to check my incision and give us an update. He said that my blood, placenta, and cord all looked perfectly normal. There were no signs of trauma on the baby. In fact, they couldn't find anything wrong. Again we were told- his heart just stopped. Nothing extraordinary, he just wasn't meant to be on this earth and only needed a body.

The nurses taught me how to stop my milk from coming in strong but it was relentless, another reminder of the loss we were feeling.

And... I guess that's it? There really wasn't anything significant that happened. It was just as bad as you'd expect but sprinkled with love from our visitors, notes, flowers, and messages online. We could feel the outreach of love and support. We could feel the prayers on our family's behalf.

The Goodbye that is never supposed to happen

The funeral director walked in. He was dressed up in a black suit and tie. He reluctantly carried in an infant car seat. I was horrified. We held Finn tighter. Reality was sinking in that we were not leaving this hospital with our baby.

I immediately lost it and began to cry. I loved that he brought in a car seat, how else was he going to safely transport him to the funeral home. But we just felt sick to our stomachs about leaving him alone in there while we prepped for the funeral. Time went by too fast, I wanted to stay with him longer but knew he was no longer with us. It was time to say goodbye. We kept our eyes on him and knew when he left this room it would never be the same. Even at his funeral, it just wouldn't be the same. He was so new, and pure, and perfect. This goodbye would be the hardest.

I couldn't stand the thought of handing our baby off to a stranger so I gave him to Neal. It would be the last time I held Finn. Neal had to be the strong one for us. It wasn't fair. But he was the strong one for us through most of this and I regret not being there for him better. Neal hugged and kissed him one last time before placing him in the car seat. I couldn't even watch. It was an unbearable pain.

We talked about the next steps but it was all a blur. I was angry at this point. I felt jilted. It was just all so unfair.

The funeral director left and we were left alone. We laid in that hospital bed together and just cried. I couldn't stop telling Neal how much I love him and how grateful I was that we had each other to get through this. It was such a sad moment. Parents should never have to say good bye to their children like that. We cried together until we fell asleep on the bed, cuddled up close, protecting each other from the pain of losing our son.

Fleeting Moments

We knew his spirit was lingering. He was being called to do work on the other side. The longer we held his body, the more he felt just that... a body.

We decided to take one last picture. Our amazing nurse came in. Neal and I held our baby, cuddled up close, and laid in the hospital bed together.

The nurse left the room. It was almost 4am. I got out the dreadful sticky note from earlier. The one with all the mortuaries contact information. How was I given this less than 24 hours ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

I reluctantly called (or maybe Neal did?) our funeral director at the mortuary. He was so kind. His voice sounded peaceful and heartbroken. He could sense our pain. I felt bad having to call him, I'm sure times like this he says to himself "I didn't sign up for this. This isn't supposed to happen." He let us know he was on his way.

I wanted him to take his time but I also wanted him to come as soon as possible. I wanted this to be over.

Struggling to keep my eyes open, we held on tight to Finn, taking turns holding him and kissing his soft head of hair. I wanted to keep my eyes open to see my son but then I didn't want to see this as a reality, our reality.

It hurt to see Neal in so much pain. He just kept telling Finn over and over how much he loved him and missed him. He kissed him, held his hands, touched his feet, and adored his most perfect and previous son.

I imagine this is how heavenly father felt when he sent his son to earth or when he had to watch his son on the cross... just wanting to hold him and protect him and show him love.

We heard a knock and our hearts sunk.

"Do you want to meet my Brother?"

We finished up as a family of 5 and decided it was time to let the rest of our immediate family into the room. Liam and Neal walked out to get everyone. As Liam turned the corner into the waiting room he said, "Hey! Do you want to meet my brother?". With tear-filled eyes, everyone got up and followed him back to our room. We were surrounded by our parents and siblings. We hesitantly passed Finn to our parents first. I felt so proud but very protective of him. He seemed to be too precious to be held by anyone else except for Neal and I. Yet I was so proud of us for creating this beautiful perfect baby. "Too perfect". A term we will hear over and over again. Although true- it still hurts to not get to have our son with us. A "too perfect" child is both a blessing and a curse.

As his body was passed around I found myself smiling but crying at the same time. You could feel Finn's spirit close by mourning the loss with us, comforting us.

Everything about this felt familiar and wrong. I yearned to have the same experience with Finn that we got to have with Liam and Kate. The birth of Liam and Kate were the happiest days of our life! And this.... it just wasn't. It was an absolute nightmare. We were all just so sad. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the room. I watched everyone cry. I wanted to comfort them but I knew Neal and I needed the most comfort.

People are right when they say the veil is thin during the birth and death of our loved ones. Even thought it was just our immediate family in the room, I could feel our family on the other side in there, as well. The room felt so full. It was a tangible feeling that is close. Heaven is real.

Finn was born about 8:30pm that night. As time went on, the later it got, and family slowly started to leave around 2am. As people trickled out, the emptier I began to feel. I like being surrounded. I liked the distraction. The day was going too fast. I didn't want to get to the next part.... being alone with our son, preparing to say goodbye.

The last person to leave was my mom and aunt. As soon as they walked out the door my heart sank deeper. I took inventory of where we were at. 2:30am, his color is changing, he's cold. So cold. It's unreal to feel a cold body. I gave him to Neal and he laid down on the father's bed with him.

The way he laid was the same way he did with all our babies. On his side, hand holding up his own head, and our children snuggled up tight near his chest. I took a picture. I didn't want to forget this. It just wasn't fair. Our arms will ache the rest of our lives for this moment with our Finn boy.

Something Beautiful

Something beautiful happened next. The understanding I thought I felt earlier when the news was delivered came back. I looked down at him and knew he was just too perfect for this earth. All he needed was a body. At that moment I felt so proud to call this beautiful baby our son. This beautiful spirit was ours forever because we are sealed together as a family.

We invited the photographer from “Now I lay me down to sleep” organization in and he took very special pictures of our sweet Finn. We can’t thank him enough for the service he provided for our family. To check out their organization and show them your support, please go to https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/

We took some pictures with just the three of us and then Neal left the room to go get the kids. I was apprehensive to have the kids come in. There’s a part of me that wants to shield them from this loss, but I knew that could be even more devastating. I wanted to be able to have all 5 of us together, to be a whole family, regardless of how short the time would be for now. I knew we would all be reunited again someday but for now, I needed this moment. I needed to have all my children in my arms.

Liam was scared to meet his brother. Kate couldn’t wait. She loves babies and I knew she was so excited to see Finn. She climbed right up next to me and loved on him. Neal held Liam until he was ready to give Finn a kiss.

No matter how wrong this whole experience felt, this moment in time felt so right. We had the opportunity to explain to Liam and Kate that families are forever. That Heavenly Father needed our Finn more in heaven then he did on earth. The Finn has a very special mission to fulfill on the other side while he waits for us to join him. That we now have our very own guardian angel to look after our family. We took this opportunity to share our testimony of the gospel and families with our children, and it was beautiful.

The Aftermath

Our son was cleaned off and wrapped up in the hospital blanket, he was brought over to us so I could see him. He was beautiful. And so perfect. Why was he so perfect!? What happened? Why did he die? He looked like he was sleeping and should just start crying. Neal held him as I kissed his big cheek. He was still warm.

The anesthesiologist offered to put me to sleep for the remainder of the surgery. I obliged. At that point I just wanted the pain to go away. I wanted to forget that even happened.

I woke up in the recovery room. Neal was sitting in the chair holding our son.

 

Finn Bradley Burk was born at 8:11 pm on September 2, 2015  weighing 6 lbs 2 oz and 19.25 inches long. He was our biggest baby yet.

As soon as Neal saw that I was awake he walked over to me and handed off Finn. As he handed him to me I could feel just how limp he was. This is when reality hit me. He really was gone. I was holding our dead son. Regardless of how perfect he looked, I knew he wasn’t there. In his body. Instead, his spirit was in the room with us. I could feel him. I felt him there watching us, grieving with us.

I couldn’t get over how much Finn looked like his brother Liam. They were the same baby. He was so perfect! I couldn’t stop crying but through my tears I could not get myself to look away from him. I didn’t want to lose one moment I had with him, I knew it would be short for the time being.

Neal climbed in bed with me and we just held our son and cried.

The Hospital

Driving to the hospital seemed like de ja vu. Just 18 months ago we were driving to the same hospital to deliver our sweet Kate. The feelings were starkly contrasted. That morning was filled with excitement to meet our little girl. This evening was filled with apprehension and pain. I couldn’t even get myself to look down at my belly. I didn’t want to hold it or touch it, the thought of who was in there was just too hurtful.

We walked in to labor and delivery and I immediately felt angry. No mom should have to walk in to these sacred halls knowingly she has to deliver a dead baby. I felt like an alien. Neal had his arms wrapped around me but none of the nurses could even make eye contact with me. We were expected… everyone knew what happened… but no one could stand the pain of expressing how they felt when they saw me. So I was ignored.

That was until my nurse came around the corner. She ran up to us and gave me a big hug. She looked me in the eyes and said, “You are so beautiful. I am so sorry.”

We walked to our room to get prepped for the surgery. I have to get c-sections. Luckily. And I say luckily because I cannot wrapped my head around having to go through labor during all of this. There are women much strong than me who have had to do this so I am glad I could take the “emotional easy way out” and just have the surgery.

After I changed into my gown I got into bed. At that point Neal’s Dad arrived. They gave me a beautiful blessing and I immediately felt love, comfort, and understanding that this was always a part of the plan. This baby was never meant to be here on earth. He didn’t have to be.

The nurse came in and said we had to make some more decisions. She asked if I wanted to hold the baby right after delivery, or if they should clean the baby off first, did Neal want to cut the cord this time? Do I want the doctor to tell us if it’s a boy or girl or does Neal want to? I just broke down. Everything about this was so wrong! This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

I explained to her that I didn’t know if I’d even want to see the baby. Depending on how long he had been dead, I was worried about decomposure and honestly just having to see my dead child. The thought of it was too hard. She calmed me down with her caring eyes and explained, “Erin, I think you’ll be surprised at how perfect this baby is going to be. The baby will look like they should just wake up and take a breath.”

“I’ll be in there right by your side, how about I look at the baby and if I feel like they look good enough, I’ll let you know so you can see him or her.” Remember? We still didn’t know what we were having…

I felt good with that decision and we immediately got prepped for surgery. Neal was by my side through the whole thing. I got wheeled into the operating room. It was so cold… and so quiet. Last time I was here the nurses and doctors were conversing, laughing, it felt so warm and bright…. And happy! This time it was just cold and quiet. Too quiet.

I was given my epidural and laid down. My anesthesiologist leaned over and whispered to me that he gave me some extra medication to ensure that I’m comfortable. I was grateful but I couldn’t definitely feel it. Neal held the bag as I threw up. I felt like such a victim right then. I felt sorry for myself. Neal kissed my forehead and I could feel his love, he didn’t even have to say anything. We were both hurting so much in that moment.

The surgery began and within minutes Dr. Ward was holding our baby. The nurse proclaimed how beautiful he was and Dr. Ward invited Neal to look around the curtain to see what we had. I looked up at Neal and the memory of the look on his face is seared into my brain. With tears in his eyes he told me, “It’s a boy”.

I was so pissed. I waited for nine months for that moment to have Neal tell me what our third child was. It was supposed to be happy. I should be crying happy tears! But instead, I just cried because of the deep heartache I felt knowing we had lost our son. The baby wasn’t just a baby anymore. It was our son, and he was gone.