Awareness . . .

in the form of film? A few weeks ago I watched the film Love and Other Impossible Pursuits starring Natalie Portman as the lead character. The movie chronicles the life of Emilia following the death of her three day old daughter, Isabel. I knew what it was about going in. I felt compelled to watch it. Parts of it infuriated me. Many other parts I empathized with and understood. I bawled throughout most of it. It was a good movie, though hard to watch in parts because it rings so true.

One thing I thought to myself was how taboo pregnancy and especially late term, neonatal and infant loss is. I understand that it can be uncomfortable for many to discuss, but the fact of the matter is, it's an unfortunate reality for many parents. It's not as uncommon as people think it is. This lack of awareness makes it taboo. A topic that should never been addressed or if it must be addressed then do it in a private area where the chance of making others feel uncomfortable is diminished. Basically sweeping it under the rug and pretending it doesn't exist or it only happens to other people. Everyone always thinks it happens to other people until it happens to them. Until they become a statistic, part of a club no one ever wants to hold membership to. I'm glad there's some awareness, even if it's by way of the silver screen.

Happy Birthday my sweet boy!

It's hard to believe it's been two years since I carried you in my womb, where you knew only love and warmth. It's been two years since my world came crashing down. Two years since I held you in my arms, felt your weight, cuddled with you and kissed you. We didn't have nearly enough time together. My heart broke into a million pieces all over again when I had to give you away to the nurse so she could take you to the morgue. Two years ago I went home with empty arms and a purple memory box. I had to look forward to choosing between burial and cremation and when we chose cremation we had to choose which urn would be your 'home.' Instead of enjoying the early days of your life in our home we were left planning arrangements with the funeral home director. I had to leave you in the hospital all alone. Leaving you there was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You belong with me. I am your home. Your home is my heart. That is where you are and where you'll stay. You are so loved and so very missed. I think about you always. You transformed the very essence of my being. You taught me a new Love. Love in the midst of heartache, pain, and devastation. You are so unique and special. You are my son and I love you so very much.

Happy Birthday, Duncan!

Tomorrow is the day we honor and remember our babies

I wish there was something going on in my city.  I'm going to light Duncan's candle and a candle in honor of all babies lost too soon.

Face of Loss, Face of Hope

Getting the word out. Putting a face to the loss of a child. Lots of love to fellow babyloss mothers.

October 15th - Remembering Our Babies

Light a candle at 7:00 pm (your time) in memory and honor of our babies.

Reborn Duncan

For information on reborn dolls see wiki (everyone loves wiki, right?--- sarcasm)

I've been considering having a memory doll made for many months. I've always thought they were interesting, but never considered one for myself until after losing Duncan. A couple discussions have been brought up on a support forum for baby loss mothers. Some moms expressed interest in a memory doll. I've been drawn to one, but somehow would end up retiring the idea because society deems it "weird," "morbid," "delusional," or whatever. That a doll can't possibly replace the child that was lost. I have brought this up for debate on other forums and many non-baby loss mothers expressed that if it was beneficial for the mother in her grief then all is fine. The only time it becomes weird is when the mother begins treating the doll as if it's her real baby. It may not be the right choice for some, but I believe it's very much the right choice for me.

My friend Dawn referred me to a reborn artist that offers memory reborn services. I was amazed at her work when Dawn shared reborn William. So very life-like and real. She did a wonderful job recreating baby William. What has been really hard for me is that while I have come to a sort of peace with him being gone, what I have to remember him by doesn't bring positive feelings. A lot of the feelings resurface and I start thinking about all the things I regret. How I wish I had taken more pictures or how I wish I had taken notice to his lack of movement and maybe if he were born sooner we could have spent more time with him. Three hours was definitely not enough. He was so delicate and fragile. Even though he was dead I thought I was hurting him somehow. Seeing him in that state killed me and those images still upset me. I wish I had more "pretty" pictures.

Having a doll made in his likeness will hopefully bring me that peace and closure. Where I have something positive to think about. Instead of trying to fantasize how he should or would have looked like, I'll have something tangible made in his likeness. No blue/pale skin or blisters and skin deterioration. No vernix all over him and no dark red lips. I can't wait to see what Duncan would have looked like. The issue with having a memory doll made in his likeness is trying to find one that shares Down Syndrome features/characteristics. Finding a preemie size wasn't difficult at all. Just finding a *cute* sculpt that actually resembles him. I found two good matches, but the sleeping doll wasn't exactly cute to me. It had a lot of the Ds features, but wasn't very pretty. The other would have made for an older version of Duncan. I want a young/newborn Duncan.

Marilyn, the artist, recommended some sculpts. I immediately liked two of them, which were the ones she liked as well.

I'm planning on two dolls, one sleeping and one awake. Here's the sleeping version:

Here's the "awake" version:

Here's my Duncan:

Gender Preference and . . .

Disappointment. The feelings involved in gender preference and disappointment are very real.

We find out the sex on Saturday, in two days, and I'm SO nervous. Since the beginning of this pregnancy I have kept thinking boy because this pregnancy reminds me so much of my pregnancy with Duncan. I'm getting total boy vibes. My intuition was right with my others, but I'm not so confident now. I've been preparing myself to hear "girl," and as much as I try to be as excited and happy about the prospects of another girl, it's hard. I try to think about the positive aspects of having another girl, but I can't help but yearn for a boy. I wanted a boy with Duncan and I got him, but in the end, I didn't get to keep him. =(

It doesn't help that I think I see a boy nub in the NT scan picture. I don't want to get my hopes up, though. I'd love to experience a mother & son relationship. Just two more days! Ack!

Proustian Phenomenon

Last night before bed I lit a white sage incense stick. White sage will always remind me of my darkest time. It reminds me of the pain and heartache I felt days following the loss of Duncan. It also reminds me of the love and support I had around me. Lighting the white sage smudge the first time felt very cleansing. The scent brings back these memories and the emotions I experienced then. Every time I light a smudge or incense stick I feel a wave of emotions and memories wash over me. Sadness, pain, numbness, emptiness, and when the smoke clears I'm left feeling a sense of clarity and optimism. Another scent that transports me back to that time is neroli. When I received a crocheted baby blanket a friend made for me I applied some of my solid neroli perfume to it. Scents are very comforting to me. They're attached to feelings, emotions and memories. Those two scents will always live with me. They're attached to the most life changing event so far in my life.

Finding the Light in Utter Darkness

There were times I'd ask myself how I'd find my way back to the Light. The Source of warmth, joy, optimism, and hope. In the beginning it felt as though there would be no Light to come rescue me from the darkness that grew around me. How would I find the Light again? Would the darkness ever loosen its grip? I felt swallowed up in darkness without ever so much a glimpse of Light.

While wandering in the darkness unable to find my way back to the Light I realized that I had been searching for something else to pull me up, to rescue me, when it was me that was the Light I was searching for. It was in me. It was never gone. It just appeared that way because the darkness consumed everything around me. The Light was with me all along. It was then I was able to see a glimpse of Light, where the darkness had loosened its grip. Now I was able to find my way to a place of healing, peace and hope.

The Dawn of a New Life: A Big Fat Positive Tale

Translation: I'm pregnant. I'm due with our fourth child December 31st 2009. At 11 dpo (for you non-TTC folks -- 11 days past ovulation), the morning of April 20th, I woke up and took my temperature. 98.1 the basal body thermometer read. Still high. Even though for the previous two weeks I told myself that I wouldn't test until 12 dpo, I caved in. I scoured my bedroom in search for the last internet cheapie test I had. I was hesitant to test because I didn't want to be disappointed, but I also thought to myself that I hadn't experienced any spotting so that must be a good sign. I went in search for a suitable cup for my liquid gold (pee). I ended up using a kid cup (sorry girls). I dipped the IC strip in for like 15 seconds and laid it on the counter. I knew it was best not to look at it until a couple minutes had past, but I was too impatient to wait a couple minutes. So, I waited like 10 seconds, if that. I told myself nothing was there. I'm fooling myself. After 30 seconds or so I see a faint pink line appear. I think to myself, "This can't be real. There's no way. I'm imagining things." But, I wasn't. There *was* a line, but I was still doubting it. I needed to confirm it with a FRER (First Response Early Result). I asked my kind husband (Mark) if he could run to the store to get me a test. Mean while, my cup of pee was sitting there waiting for me to dip another stick in it.

So, where to from here? Oh yeah, Mark went to the store and came back with bags of groceries. I'm standing there like a kid waiting anxiously for her birthday present wondering which bag holds my treasure. I peeked in a few of the bags and didn't see my pee sticks. :cry: I had waited like almost two hours. I was getting so anxious. I asked Mark about my sticks and he said he completely forgot about them. I guess taking two kids grocery shopping with you can do that. He volunteered to go back to the store. Of course, at this point I was *still* on pins and needles needing more of a concrete answer. I think roughly 45 minutes went by and my nervousness was getting worse. Finally, after what felt like forever, I see the car pull up. What was my response or reaction? I run to hide in my room. I didn't want to look like a fool, all anxious and excited about her pee sticks that she had long been waiting for (not really long, but to a TTC woman, 3 hours is a long time to wait). I peeked out of the room and glance at the bags. About the third time I did this I found, to my horror, my daughters waving the box of pee sticks in my father-in-law's face! NOOOOO! I didn't want him to know what the deal was just yet. NO! I can only hope that he didn't have a clue what was in that pink box. Yeah right!

When I saw them waving it at him I got one of the girls to bring me the box. I hurried into the bathroom. I managed to get a SMU (second morning urine) collection before testing. So, I had the FMU (first morning urine) and SMU collection. I wanted to see which collection produced the strongest line. I dipped the sticks and waited. I waited like 5 seconds to look at the sticks. Within 30 seconds I see lines! Woohoo! These weren't faint lines, either. These were nice pink lines. I felt SO relieved. Now I didn't have to hold back my excitement. The SMU collection yielded a darker line. It was such a pretty line. I was in disbelief. Here we were with a BFP, less than two weeks to go before Mark deploys. I just had a feeling this would be the case.

I couldn't contain my excitement even though I was nervous about this pregnancy. Pregnancy after a loss can be nerve-wracking and scary. I told some family members that day, including the in-laws. The following day I called a local homebirth midwife to schedule an interview. The interview was set for that Thursday. It was a great interview. The midwife and her assistant midwife were wonderful. I felt nothing but good vibes. My first appt. is June 1st. There are times I'm still in a state of disbelief. I'm nervous and scared. I want this pregnancy to be uneventful and painless. I also remind myself multiple times a day to take it one day at a time. And to remain optimistic and positive. I know every baby and pregnancy is unique. I want very much to treat this pregnancy with the same innocence I had with my others. I want so much to enjoy this pregnancy. All I can do is remain positive. This little bean is part of me and I want to cherish every moment I have with him/her. Hope for the best is about all I can do. That is my plan.

**As for the picture, the 11 dpo test line doesn't show up well here. I took the picture three days after I took this test. It had lightened after two days. This was the FMU picture, the lighter test line.

The birth that never came to be

For months I had been planning and anticipating the joyous and peaceful homebirth of precious Duncan. I was so completely excited and anxious. I had been wanting this experience for so long. I looked forward to it from the beginning. I love giving birth. Birthing a new life is so empowering, more so when it is done on your own terms, in your own environment surrounded by loved ones. I wanted this so much. I still get emotional and deeply sad when I recall the events that took place in the wee hours of Friday morning. I felt so helpless and lost. I hated being in the hospital. I hated not being in control and poked and prodded. I regret going back to be induced. I wasn't thinking clearly. I wasn't thinking at all. I was just so shocked and stunned by it all that I didn't even consider the idea of just staying home and birthing him there. It would have been as "peaceful" as it could be in that situation. It still wouldn't have filled the void, the void of giving birth to life, but it would have caused me less anxiety and stress.

I will get my dream birth; I will get my homebirth. I look forward to the day I where I will be overcome with joy, happiness, empowerment, awe and wonder. I wait for that day; I wait for that birth. It will come.

I think I've come to terms with it . . .

With not getting pregnant by the time Mark deploys. Finding out he was going to deploy some 5 weeks ago really did throw a wrench in our TTC plans. Instead of hoping it would occur soon, but being fine with it if it happened later, we, or I, was now on a deadline to conceive before he departs sometime late May or early June. I didn't expect to get pregnant with first postpartum ovulation, but I was hoping. I couldn't really chart because I hadn't even gotten my first postpartum period. I had to rely on examining my CP and CF and OPKs. I was bummed when my luteal phase with a whopping 5 days. I hoped that next time would be IT or perhaps end in a better LP. I took upon the use of bio-identical progesterone cream hoping it would help if low progesterone was the culprit. My chart was looking good that cycle. I got a very, very faint positive at 8 dpo (days past ovulation) and started spotting that day. I got my period the following day. That time it ended with 8 day LP. So, better, but not good. Maybe next cycle. I'm doing all of my charting and waiting and ended up ovulating a little later than I expected (cd 23). My post-O temps were high and looked good. I got a nice temp dip at 6 dpo and a good temp spike the following day. I also started feeling sharp uterine twinges or pinching at that time. They lasted until 8 dpo. I experienced the pinching and twinges with all of my pregnancies. I was slightly convinced I was pregnant. I tested yesterday at 9 dpo and nothing, which is to be expected. I didn't use a super sensitive IC this time. I started spotting yesterday as well. I became very emotional and frustrated. I cried on and off from mid morning to 3:30 pm. I was so freaking frustrated. *I* know it can take the body/hormones a number of months to return back to normal, but it's still frustrating.

I called the OB that had been handling our situation hoping he'd be understanding and sympathetic, and, well, he wasn't. But then how many are? I could tell he doesn't buy into the whole charting thing and he didn't even sound like he knew anything about the hormones involved with the reproductive cycle. He made a comment akin to: "If you're even ovulating." WTF? I AM ovulating, dammit. He basically said there's nothing he could do, no clomid or progesterone supplements and that luteal phase problems don't exist and blah, blah, blah. I don't even know why I thought to even call him. I should have known better. Toward the end of the conversation I even wondered if he even remembered me or knew why we'd be TTC four months after giving birth. He went on to say wanting to get pregnant before one's spouse deploys is common around here. Well, no shit. I know that. However, my situation isn't ordinary or "common." I wouldn't be in this position if I actually had my baby in my arms. Idiot doctor.

Today, very early this morning, I got my period. While I felt sad and less than hopeful, I think I've come to terms with not conceiving before he leaves. I want so much to be pregnant again, to experience a growing baby inside me and to have something to look forward to, to anxiously wait in excitement for the arrival of a new life, to hold, kiss and nurse a baby that I nestled in my womb for 9+ months. I want my arms full. My heart aches to be healed, at least partly. I want that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I would love to have a baby in my arms by the time Duncan's death/birth anniversary rolls around. Since yesterday I've been thinking about the possibility that we may not conceive by the time he leaves. I have to be prepared for that. We can hope that we do, but I have to look on the bright side. I have to remain positive. I can keep charting and I'm certain my cycle and hormones will regulate over a short period of time. I know it's normal to have wonky cycles for 4-6 months after giving birth, so what I'm experiencing isn't unusual. If it doesn't happen then I can work on losing weight and focus on other areas I want to work on and improve. The positive thing about conceiving #4 after DH returns is that he'll be here for the birth. I know it's something he'd want to experience, especially after having planned a homebirth with Duncan and everything going horribly awry. So, I have to keep my spirits up and remain positive. I can do that. No need to wallow in sadness and frustration. It will only eat me up inside and that's not good.

So much for getting pregnant sooner rather than later . . .

Until recently, we had been anticipating Mark would be receiving PCS (permanent change of station) orders in March for MCAS Miramar in San Diego. We were expecting to move spring/summer, and I was hoping to be pregnant by spring/summer. Well, the Corps has other plans. Instead, he will be deploying sometime late April or early May. This definitely throws a wrench into our TTC plans, but we'll just have to roll with it. It's what we have to do. We'll just have to pick up where we left off when he returns, assuming we don't conceive by then. Here's to hoping we do!

Yearning to have my arms full

I want to be pregnant again . . . like now. At the hospital I knew I wanted to be pregnant again right away. That urge to bring forth a life, especially after a loss, is so strong. I want that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. A rainbow baby. Days following Duncan's birth we began talking about names. I was obsessed with wanting to be pregnant again. I desperately wanted something to look forward. A new hope. A new life. Something. I want the experience the ups and downs of pregnancy. I want to pull a plump crying baby to my chest and have the cocktail of motherly hormones wash over me and not sadness and heartache. I want to experience Ultimate Joy of bringing forth a new life. I want to be pregnant again.

At three weeks postpartum, I took a pregnancy test and it was NEGATIVE. I was never so happy to see a BFN in my life. Yes! My hormones are returning to normal. My body is beginning to heal and return to normal.

My wish can not come soon enough.

Drowning In Tears

My milk is in now and I can't stop crying. I have no baby to feed. My heart aches and I'm numb, so numb and raw. My arms empty when they're supposed to be full. My heart hurts. My whole world was shattered in an instant and now I'm reminded of what I don't have. My son is gone. He's not here with me, in my arms receiving my warm milk, that liquid life. I can not stare into his eyes and watch him fall blissfully asleep while hugged tightly to my breast. I'm left wanting and yearning for my baby, my son and my heart to be whole again. It hurts. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I just want to be whole again.

Into the storm: The Loss of Duncan

My husband and I had been planning a homebirth this pregnancy and we were ecstatic about it. Before learning about Duncan's passing I was counting down the days to his impending birth. I ordered last minute things for the birth and was in good spirits. Much of that changed when after ordering some stuff for the birth I noticed I hadn't felt him move or his hiccups in the last day or two. In the back of my head I thought everything was fine. I have a doppler (the kind some midwives and OBs use) that I had since my first pregnancy and thought to use it to reassure myself. I don't like using it, but I thought it would give me peace of mind and reassure me everything was okay. The doppler was on its last leg and was a hassle trying to get heart tones because it kept dying out. After maybe five minutes I pick up a what I thought was his heart beat which read 136. I found it low and in front. I thought everything was good.

As the day progressed I didn't feel him move at all. Something just didn't seem right. I first checked for his heart tones around 9:00 am. I checked again at around 2:30 pm. This time after trying for 10 minutes I just knew something wasn't right. I tried every place I could think of. Another 30 minutes went by and still nothing. Being almost 35 weeks I should have been able to pick up his heart beat anywhere, but I wasn't getting anything above 108, which was mine. I decided to rest and see if I could feel any movements. I thought if I took it easy then maybe he'll wake up. In the back of my head I just knew that wasn't the case. I decided to get up and go search for a 9v battery to replace the dying one. I replaced it and still nothing. I was getting a ton of feedback, though. Very annoying. By this time Mark came home from work and asked how long I had been trying. I said, "Too long. Over an hour." He had a feeling, but wanted to remain optimistic.

After not getting anything back I called my midwife to tell her what was going on and she got worried. She wasn't as worried about me not feeling as much movement because I had the excess fluid and that can sometimes muffle the baby's movement. She was concerned about not being able to pick up his heart beat. She asked if I wanted her to come to the house and check to hopefully reassure me that all was okay. She arrived and noted how huge my stomach was. I was approaching 35 weeks and my fundus measured 47 cm (equivalent to 47 weeks). I had so much fluid. It was now her turn to try and she tried and tried for about 30 minutes and didn't get anything. We were set to go to the hospital. I called and spoke to a nurse and she transferred me to a CNM and I told her what was going on. I wanted to bypass triage and head straight for an ultrasound. During this whole time I knew he was gone, but it hadn't hit me yet.

Mark stayed home with the kids while my midwife and I headed to the hospital. I was going to call him as soon as it was confirmed. We get to L&D and the NM greeted us at the front desk. I made sure to tell her that I was really just about 35 weeks. I'm sure she was thinking there's no way, simply because of how big I was. Now it was time for the ultrasound. It didn't take her long to tell me that she wasn't seeing what she wanted to. She went ahead and got the OB on duty that night and he confirmed that Duncan had passed. I already knew he was gone. I knew since the beginning of the day. Seeing him still on the ultrasound was when reality hit me. He was really gone. So many things were whirling about in my head. He noted the abnormalities he saw -- my fluid level and there looked to be some calcification on the placenta, which isn't normal at this point. I honestly didn't think anything was wrong with my placenta.

The OB and NM left to give me some privacy and said they'd have the chaplain come up to talk with me. The tears started to flood and I started to feel really numb. I called Mark to tell him of the news and I could tell he wanted to stay strong for me. My midwife was so kind to ask a doula friend of hers to watch the girls since we don't have family here. My husband arrived with the girls and I was so relieved to see Eve was asleep. I wasn't sure how they'd handle being up since it was getting late. I called my mom and some friends to let them know what was going on. That was rough. Having to break the news to family and friends. Mark had a hard time telling his family.

After we had some time to ourselves the OB and chaplain came in to talk to us about what our plans were with inducing labor and when. He suggested not to wait longer than two weeks. I wanted to be induced ASAP. He told us that they can induce that night. Since it was already around 10:00 pm, we figured it would be in the morning. We left to go pack my things and meet with the lady that was going to watch the girls. My midwife had another client in labor that she was going to check up on. She was going to come back to the hospital in the morning.

We got home and I packed my things and took a shower. Still completely numb and in shock. It was my worst nightmare come true. Ann showed up and we left. I'm so grateful for her watching the girls. She was so sweet and kind.

The 15 minute drive seemed a lot longer than it was. I kept thinking I had 5 weeks to go and he just couldn't be gone. He seemed so active and well days prior. What went wrong. We arrived at the L&D floor and were met with very sad faces. The nurses were so wonderful and attentive. I knew it was going to be a long night. Nothing is ever quick in the hospital, at least not in my experience. The nurses attempted to start an IV and didn't have much success at first. After four tries the IV ended up going in the median cubital vein (elbow bend). I was stuck a total of nine times by the end of my hospital stay and over 20 vials of blood was taken.

The OB came in to talk about the induction process. He said what's most important to him was that I wasn't in any pain and that I rest. That in a normal situation he wouldn't stress a medicated birth, but in cases like this he doesn't want to see the patient in pain. I definitely understood what he was saying. He told us that given the situation it wouldn't be a normal induction. They were going to be more aggressive with the dosage they use to induce labor. I was hoping to just have my membranes ruptured and see if it could get things going. He wasn't at all convinced my cervix was doing anything at this point. He didn't even want to check until after I was medicated. He didn't want me to be in physical pain while trying to cope with the enormous emotional pain I was feeling.

But hell, an epidural was NOT what I wanted. I like to be in control. I like to move around. I didn't want my lower half being numb. I didn't want to feel paralyzed from the waist down and I sure as hell didn't want to be hooked up to a bunch of beepy annoying machines. I just wasn't sure what to expect with this kind of induction. He brought up Cytotec, which is an awful drug used to induce labor. I told him I wasn't comfortable with that drug. He said giving me pitocin if my cervix wasn't ready could backfire and make it a very long and painful process. The same and worse is said about Cytotec. I was nervous about this induction process. I was convinced I'd be starting with a closed, high and thick cervix. Still, I was not about to have Cytotec.

Much to my dismay I consented to the darn epidural. Hated the whole process. I felt the anesthesiologist threading the catheter down the epidural space and to the left side. I felt him pushing it in. Wonderful. I knew my left leg was going to be more numb than my right since that is where the catheter was threaded. A kink formed in the line and the anesthesiologist administered lidocaine to make sure it was working. Not cool at all. The epidural was placed at 5:30 am and the doctor came in to check my cervix for the first time at 6:15 am. Much to his surprise I was 4 cm dilated, but Duncan was of course floating around in all that fluid and I wasn't yet effaced, which was to be expected. It was this time he ruptured my membranes. His game plan was to induce with pitocin and it was administered at 6:45 am. Within 15 minutes the contractions started, but didn't register very strong on the monitor. They weren't regular at all. I so hated being numb, but I was mentally and emotionally exhausted and really needed some sleep. Mark passed out in the pull-out chair and I dosed off. I woke up in every so often to see what was going on, if anything. I remember waking up maybe close to 8:00 am and I freaked out when I couldn't move or feel my left leg. It just felt like a huge mass or heavy stump. I was getting very anxious and had Mark buzz the nurse two times to have the epidural turned off. I hated that feeling. I couldn't move my lower half to reposition myself at all.

The nurse called for the anesthesiologist, which was a different guy this time. He told me what I was feeling was the local block he initially inserted into the epidural catheter. He said it would wear off and wasn't permanent at all. I asked about having it turned off and he advised against it because the new OB on duty was going to up the pitocin to a much higher dose to really get things going. It was around this time the OB came in to check my progress. I was 5 cm and Duncan's head was at -1 station without a contraction and 0 station with one. I wasn't completely effaced yet because for so long he had been floating and wasn't able to put pressure on the cervix to thin it out. So, with the pitocin turned up he said it should get active labor going. Around this time my midwife showed up and was my labor companion during this whole process. My excess fluid really did show itself when the contractions started to come on strong. I don't think the nurses were expecting to see so much fluid. It leaked everywhere. There was a huge puddle behind the bed and my midwife was standing in a big puddle. It was like a non-stop gush of fluid. I had these leg cuffs on to stimulate the muscles so blood clots don't form. Interesting gadget.

I was so hoping the whole induction process was going to be over soon. I was able to get a little bit of rest here and there and we all joked about the edema in my legs. Being pumped full of so much fluid really does it. Apparently, my left leg had massive swelling. My foot was huge. They got a good laugh. The mood was lightening up, but I knew that would change as soon as Duncan made his entrance. By 9:00 am I was beginning to feel the contractions, which was weird because my legs were still numb. Finally, I had some feeling and was able to get an idea of where I was at. Contractions actually weren't bad at all. I did feel them coming every 2 minutes and we could see on the monitor that I was getting close to transition. It was around 9:30 am when I told them I was feeling some pressure, like he was descending. My midwife said the contractions were beginning to come back to back. The nurse called for the OB and they began prepping. I started to feel the contractions getting a little stronger along with the pressure. The nurse turned off the epidural pump just in time, which was pointless since I was already capable of feeling the contractions and pressure. The pressure I was feeling at that time was a gush of water and then out slid tiny Duncan. He was so small. He was a little peanut compared to our girls. He was beautiful. Still covered in a lot of vernix. Mark and I both broke out in tears at the same time. Finally the whole induction process was over, but now reality hit us. Our son was gone. He wasn't the screaming pink and wide-eyed baby we so wanted. But gosh, he was just gorgeous. We couldn't give him a bath since they needed him to be "preserved" for the autopsy. Duncan Lewis Garibaldi Hines was born on 11/14/08 at 9:40 am. He was 5 lbs., 4 oz and 17 1/2 inches. He was born just under 3 hours after I was induced with pitocin with 1 hour and 40 minutes of active labor. He had blond hair like his dad and big feet like both of us.

Moments after his birth I inquired about the placenta. He said on appearance it look normal. Nice and big. Not shriveled or aged. He mentioned the ultrasound picking up some calcification and that the autopsy might reveal something he can't visibly see.

We got to spend over three hours with him. We cuddled and took pictures. The chaplain/bereavement counselor gave us a keepsake box to put pictures in. It came with an outfit, hat, a card for his footprints and a little baggy to put some hair in. He was dressed up in the little outfit and the nurse took his pictures. I loved the time we got to spend with him. I'll forever cherish the time we had together. We got to bond for just over 8 1/2 months and I will treasure every moment of that time. I could tell Mark was trying to stay strong, but it really hit him when he got to hold him. He said he looked like our youngest. One of the nurses said he looked like Mark and I agree.

When it was time to give him to the nurse I just broke down. It was so hard to give my son away. I would never get to see or hold him again. After he left I just wanted to sleep. I hadn't had but a couple hours of sleep in over 30 hours at this point. I couldn't wait to be discharged and go home. The OB came back in to check up on us and said 6 hours was the minimum stay. He wanted to make sure everything was alright with me before letting us go. He wanted to make sure I retained sensation in my legs and was able to walk and urinate. I couldn't wait to get out of that ugly and annoying hospital gown. And I wanted some food. Real food. The hospital food definitely wasn't the greatest. The bereavement counselor came in to talk to us about our plans for Duncan. We agreed on cremating him. We want to keep him with us. We were told it would take 3-4 weeks to get the pathology and autopsy results back and it's certainly one thing on my mind a lot. Even though I am anxious to get the report back, in the back of my head I have a feeling what went wrong.

It's been three days since his birth and each day is different. I think about what could have been and how much I miss him. Coming home without a baby was so hard. I want him with me. I want to smell him and cuddle him. My milk just came in today and I cry so hard knowing I can't nurse him. I want to smell the sweet milk on his breath. I want to wake up every two hours to feed him. But I can't. My baby is gone. Part of me is gone. I try to stay strong for our girls and put on a face and there are times that I tell myself I can get through this and be at peace. Mark has been a great support and I know he's going through the grieving process in his own way.

He will always live on in our hearts and memories. I miss him and love him dearly. I have to remind myself that it's going to be a long journey to recovery. The pain will never go away it just gets different.