It has been way too long since I blogged and we have had so many things happen.
Our most recent happenings had to be written today though.
I need to remember details of this day for the rest of my life and I figured, since I don't have a journal, the blog was the best place.
November 21st 2014
Today was our ultrasound day!
We were so excited and nervous to find out whether boys were our destiny or whether a little girl could be added to the mix.
I met Davin at the doctor and we were pretty promptly called into the ultrasound room.
The ultrasound tech knew us from our previous pregnancy and was very aware of the fact that we had 3 boys and not a girl in sight.
She started the ultrasound and commented on what a perfect looking baby it was.
The profile was so beautiful and all of the little baby feature - the toes, the hands, and feet were absolutely clear.
The one strange thing I noticed was that the baby did not move when she moved the ultrasound instrument over it.
I quickly put it out of my mind.
The ultrasound tech is a very talkative person and we quickly noticed that she was becoming very quiet.
She then turned to me, looking very melancholy, and said "This is not going to be a good pregnancy for you."
I didn't know what that meant. Did the baby have some kind of disorder? Was there something wrong with me?
She moved her ultrasound instrument over the baby's tiny torso and said "There is no heartbeat."
The tears immediately came. The memories of 17 weeks of intense morning sickness, the anticipation that another little, sweet person was going to join our family came back to me in an instant and happy thoughts were quickly dashed.
She then asked through tears whether we wanted to know the gender.
We nodded.
Through sobbing tears she said "It's your girl."
The three of us sobbed in that tiny ultrasound room.
Even the ultrasound tech knew the enormous heartbreak in that sentence.
Off to the hospital
The doctor informed us that our little girl would need to be delivered.
We left one of our cars at the doctor and went across the street to the hospital.
Walking to labor and delivery was an out of body experience.
This thing I had done before with such excitement was now filled with such dread and sadness.
We went into our delivery room and I immediately noticed the baby warming station.
It was so strange to know that it wouldn't be needed.
I changed into a hospital gown and they started me on some medicine to induce labor.
Our first nurse was an older woman and she looked at me and said "I've been through this. You are going to make it and you are going to be fine."
I wanted to believe her so badly in that moment.
The day was long waiting for contractions to begin.
I cried most of the day and I am pretty sure I used up a whole box of kleenex.
I had painful thoughts running through my head.
Thoughts of leaving the hospital empty handed, thoughts of the baby and what she would look like.
When the contractions began, they not only hurt my body but my heart. It was one of the strangest moments of my life. It was like each one was mocking me. My body thought this was just a typical birth, but my heart knew it wasn't.
During the contractions I had nurses bring me books and pamphlets about dealing with death, how to deal with a baby not coming home.
Everything was so surreal.
They came in with an epidural.
They said no one who is delivering a baby who has passed away should be allowed to feel any physical pain at the birth.
I quickly agreed.
My next nurse was a sweet girl about my age. She told me she had 3 girls and had miscarried a little boy.
She was an angel to us at this time.
She told us that they wanted the baby to come without pushing or pulling.
She would come on her own, maybe even with nobody there except Davin and I.
The thought terrified me.
The delivery
The contractions began getting stronger and I was praying so hard that I would be able to deal with the heartache that was about to happen.
The nurse was giving me some antibiotics because I had developed a horrible fever because of the induction medicine, when I suddenly felt something pushing it's way out.
The nurse quickly came over and said "Here she is!"
She came.
She was still inside the water sack, but I could see every little feature of her body. She was so small and perfect.
They carefully picked her up and put her on a clean blanket.
The nurse carefully removed the sack around her and then pointed to the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around her tiny neck.
This is why my beautiful little girl was not here with us.
The pain of knowing that she could have been here if it were not for the accident was almost unbearable.
However, we were grateful to know that nothing was wrong with me and that this would not hinder us from having more children.
They took her over to the warming table to clean her up.
They placed her in a tiny hat and tiny blanket, then brought her to me.
This was the moment I had been dreading.
Would this image be burned into my mind forever. A tiny, underdeveloped baby most people never wanted to see.
I was very wrong.
She was a person. A tiny person.
Her feet and hands were dainty and beautiful. Her tummy was round and sweet. Her face was small and peaceful.
I cherish that time I got to see her and hold her tiny body.
For legal reasons I had to hand the baby over to the nurse and say the most awful words I have everyhad to say - "Please take her."
Davin and I and the nurse sobbed and the nurse said "Don't worry. I will take good care of her."
It was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life, but I am thankful I got to see her and be with her for those few precious moments.
We named her Ruth Garlick.
Ruth is still here with me.
Heavenly Father and Ruth have never left me and I am grateful.
Heading Home
The night after her birth was rough.
Physically I was exhausted.
I threw up most of the night and had a horrendous fever.
Emotionally I was broken and what seemed like beyond repair.
They discharged us the next day.
I put my clothes back on, signed some papers, and left the hospital in a wheel chair with only Ruth's tiny hat in my hands.
This experience has been one I never wanted to have. The loss of a child, even one as tiny as Ruth is almost too much to bear. Friends and family have sent so many flowers and food and cards and comfort. I have been grateful for them and for my Heavenly Father and his loving arms and loving comfort. I am grateful for my belief that this life is not the end.
We will see our beautiful Ruth again.
